Give Me a Little Credit Here

"Know what?" Donna smiled, gliding her fingertip down Valerie's nose. "You're pretty."

"You're prettier," Val purred back, caressing Donna's cheek.

They'd have progressed further, but were interrupted by something else. They heard what sounded like a gong being struck. Then, a new recorded voice assumed the line.

"Welcome, and thank you for calling the DiscVisMasterExpress credit card authorization department. To begin, please press 1."

Donna widened her eyes. She spoke.

"You are NOT telling me we could've just dialed another number to get here."

Valerie interlocked their fingers, pressing 1 with the other index. "It doesn't matter, sweetie, we're there now," she cooed, her silky voice sweet as honey. Donna couldn't help noticing her tone and mannerisms were much, much calmer than they were a few minutes ago. She considered saying so, but thought better and decided to let it go. Besides, she thought, maybe she was the reason Val'd relaxed. Maybe she wasn't giving herself and her seducing finesse enough credit. Maybe she was hotter stuff than she thought! Val could make her sizzle with one touch in the right spots, but Donna didn't know she had the same effect. Meanwhile, the new recording went on.

Gong! "Thank you for your selection!"

Donna rolled her eyes, quite tired of being thanked. Though this was her credit card, and she was indeed super excited four hours ago, the process was sucking her energy well dry. She found herself now wanting to do something else, like carry her blushing bride back to bed. Where they could snuggle, watch TV and drop asleep together.

Val, on the other hand, was now set on making this happen for the love of her life. She'd made some strides, and was convinced things would play out in their favor. She was confident and encouraged, though...while good things, confidence and encouragement could be a trifle dangerous in the hands of one like Valerie Megan O'Hanlon.

"Please state your name," the recording requested.

With a silent "Oh!" Val slid the phone over to her. Donna sat up.

"Okay, uh, *ahem*...Donna O'Hanlon."

The voice responded. "I think you said, 'John Bo Banlon.'"

"Wh—...NO. No, I didn't."

"If this is correct, please press 1."

"It's not," Donna snapped.

"If this is not correct, please press 2."

Sigh. BOOP.

This time they heard the sound of a buzzer, not unlike that of a vintage game show.

Bzzz! "Thank you for your selection. Please state your name."

"DONna O'HANlon," she repeated, trying to be distinct.

"I think you said, 'Lon Ho Flanlin.'"

"WHAT the f—" Donna griped.

"If this is correct, please press 1. If this is NOT correct, please press 2."

"Nope, strike two..." BOOP.

Bzzz! "Thank you for your selection. Please state your name."

Putting her mouth as close to the phone set as she could without ingesting it, Donna tried again. "DAHHHHHHNNA... OHHHHH... HAAAAAANLUHHHHN."

"I think you said, 'Gonna Go Pan'lin'.'"

Donna shook her head while dropping it in her hands, and whimpered.

"Oh, for heaven's sake," Valerie lamented. "This one's even slower than the last one."

"If this is cor—" BOOP! Bzzz! "Thank you for your selection..."

"Okay, fine, how 'bout..." Donna tried her maiden name. "DONNA GARDNER."

"I think you said, 'Kinder Gardner.'"

Donna made her hands into fisted claws. "MOTHER—"

"ALL right, a'right, lemme give this a try," said Val, dragging the phone back her way.

"If thi—" BOOP! Bzzz! "Thank you for your selection. Please state your name."

Valerie gave it a try. "Donna O'Hanlon."

"I think you said, 'Donna O'Hanlon.'"

"Ah!" Val smiled with a clap of the hands. "See?"

If only the look Donna proceeded to give her could be defined in words.

"If this is correct, please press 1. If—" BIP!

Donna spoke out loud, matter-of-factly, to no one. "I've married Barbara Eden."

Gong! "Thank you, Donna O'Hanlon! Please wait a moment."

"Who's the witch now," Donna muttered. "A'right, Sabrina, how'd you pull that off?"

Valerie smiled innocently. "I told you, me cheery lass, pure fortune of the Irish."

"Oh yeah?" Donna shot back, her mordant side unleashed and very much active. "Well, you better take a laxative, Glinda, 'cause that horseshoe's gotta be pretty damn painful."

Donna's smart remarks only endeared her more to Valerie. "C'mon, hon," Val adorably rejoined. "You know I don't work like that. All I did was put a rainbow over the house."

The recording had returned. Gong! "Hello, Donna O'Hanlon! If you wish to hear options, please press 1, or say, 'Yes,' now."

Donna chuckled caustically. "Ho boy; this again, huh?"

Val took her hand, gave it a rub and a pat. "Fear not, my darling, for you've got a higher order on your side. I summon my powers only for good." She pressed 1.

Gong! "Thank you for your selection, Donna O'Hanlon!"

"You are welcome, O Elusive Electronic Voice Person," said Valerie.

"If you would like to speak with a representative, please press 1, or say, 'Yes,' now."

Surprise and hope engulfed Donna's face. "A human??" she shrieked. "HELL YES!"

Val sighed contentedly. "God bless you, Alexander Graham Bell." She pressed 1 again.

Gong! "Thank you for your selection, Donna O'Hanlon."

Gong! "You are now being transferred to one of our efficient representatives. Please hold, and we will be with you VERY shortly."

Through the phone began to play a mellow '70s song neither knew.

Donna shook her head, feeling some stamina return. "...Wow," she breathed.

"Yeah."

Donna gazed at Val...her straight strawberry blonde hair reaching down her shoulders, the way her gentle, lucky green eyes rested pleasantly on the phone, subtly nuanced by her laugh lines...the side portrait of her face traced by the light, her demure lashes, her diminutively pronounced nose, the way her hint of a smile dimpled her cheek...then down to the fingers of one hand idly drumming on the table, the way her elegant breasts relaxed in her jammie top unshackled by a bra...even the simplicity of sitting on her knees, her tootsies poking out of the p.j. pants...everything. Donna loved everything.

My wife, she thought. My gorgeous, wonderful wife. Her eyes went dewy for one brief moment. "You know what?" she said.

Val turned, her rogue strands of hair wafting up and floating back down. "What?"

"I like you."

Valerie smiled back, limerence crinkling up her shining eyes.

"I like you more."

Donna shook her head. "If only possible."

They took time-out for a soulwarming kiss. After another sec, a familiar voice returned. The first electronic cheerful-sounding voice they encountered—with its own sound.

Ding! "We are currently experiencing a high call volume. But please do not hang up, as your call is very important to us. Thank you for your patience."

The music returned. Valerie and Donna stared at the phone.

"...You again?" asked Donna.

Valerie turned a bit hostile. "I don't like you," she frowned, addressing the first voice. "I don't care for you at all. You tortured me. At least the other one's cooperative."

Donna sprawled herself out on her back. "Well, babe..." she said with a relaxing groan, deciding to cheer up her wife by teasing her. "Why don't you summon forth those powers of yours, and get us a representative on here?" She closed her eyes, chuckled and stretched, which lifted her pajama top, which exposed her belly.

Valerie didn't think Donna was seriously ridiculing her power (which was really her faith in God), but...make fun of me, will you, ya little minx, she thought. Though she knew she'd probably pay for this, she reached down for Donna's exposed tummy, and give her one big vigorous tickle, right around the bellybutton.

"AAAHH!" Donna shouted, bolting upright. She smirked at Val, who shyly smiled back.

"Big mistake, doll," Donna threatened playfully, both of them well aware Valerie was the more ticklish one—and that every time they got in a tickle fight, Donna owned her.

"Of course you realize..." Donna continued menacingly, "This means war."

Valerie tried to get up, up and away, but Donna pounced on her, straddled her and had her begging for mercy in about eight seconds. She was right. She did pay for it.

A moment after they'd settled back down, voice number two came back.

Gong! "You are now being transferred to one of our efficient representa—..."

"Hm!" Donna chuckled. "Look at that, Valentine, they're tag-teaming us now."

"...Please hold, and we will be with you VERY shortly."

Valerie waved it off. "Don't you sweat it, baby. Trust me, by the time this is over, these people're gonna know MY name."

The music returned, right on cue, in the midst of a very particular Steve Winwood song.

"—wind, in her arms...Valerie! Call me/Call on me! Valerie..."

Both jaws hit the floor. As if by magic, a song entitled "Valerie" happened in fact to be piping through the speaker. A stunned Donna and Val slowly turned to each other.

"No...way..." Donna murmured through a hint of a chuckle.

Val looked straight up to the ceiling. "Now You're just having fun with us, aren't Ya?"

Ding! "We are currently experiencing a high call volume..."

"A'right, you can't do that with a rainbow," the amazed Donna insisted.

Not to be outdone, a more recent and recognizable song took over. By Amy Winehouse.

"—fool out of me/Why don't you come on over, Valerie..."

Both veritably shrieked in shock. They watched the phone, neither batting an eye, as Amy sang her name again and again and again.

Gong! "You are now being transferred..."

The song resumed. The O'Hanlons turned back to each other, more floored than they could ever remember being. They let it play a little longer, and Donna stood. She didn't know what kind of mystic force was at work here, but...

"What the hell," she said. "Might as well just go with the flow..." She held her paw out to Valerie. "Wanna dance?"

Val let out a giddy chuckle. Still a little dazed and confused, she laughed, shook her head, stood as well, and accepted Donna's hand. "Why not??"

*****

(V) Yes, we know...please trust me, we're not imbeciles. We're not soft upstairs, I swear. We just didn't want to give up. We just kept repeating all those clichés to ourselves. Y'know, "Good things come to those who wait"...

(D) "The best things in life are worth waiting for"...

(V) "The longer you wait for something, the more you appreciate it"...

(D) "A watched something never...something"...I never remember that one.

(V) So we figured, why not try to get a few other things done in the meantime. And by that, I mean have an indoor picnic.

(D) Right. So, Saturday afternoon, 4:-, 5:something.

*****

Saturday, September 7th, 2013, 4:47 p.m.

Donna rubbed her stuffed tummy with a contented sigh. "Awesome lunch, babe."

Ding! "We are currently experiencing a high call volume. But please do not hang up, as your call is very important to us. Thank you for your patience."

The recliners were pushed back a few feet. Now with full stomachs, both lay on the floor on their backs, disposable plates and cups sitting about.

Valerie chuckled. "Well, 'lunch' might be debatable...what time is it?"

"Shoot, y'got me...4:-, 5:something?"

They waited another moment. Donna held up a hand, all five fingers. She put down her thumb, then her pinkie, then her ring finger, then her index...and flipped the remaining digit in the direction of the phone. They had the timing perfect. Right on cue—

Gong! Donna and Valerie recited the message in flawless sync with the recording.

"You are now being transferred to one of our 'efficient' representatives," the girls mocked and air-quoted. "Please hold, and we will be with you VERY 'shortly.'"

They snickered. Val linked her fingers, turned her hands palms out, held them at arms' length and cracked her knuckles. "So, what'cha wanna do now?"

Donna wasn't ready to move for a good little bit. "The way you stuff me, babe, I could take a ten-hour nap right now, but, uh..." She exhaled. "Guess we should do the dishes."

Valerie rolled onto her side until able to get on her feet.

Ding! "We are currently experiencing a high call volume..."

Val fetched the trash can, crouched to retrieve the disposables, theatrically deposited each in the trusty waste bin, then returned it to its designated spot, and herself to the living room, clapping any accumulable dust from her hands.

"Dishes're done. What else do you wanna do?"

Donna propped up onto her elbow. "Well, 's see...what've we done today so far?"

"So far..." Valerie paced back and forth, counting on her fingers. "We had our late lunch-slash-early dinner...did some more unpacking...read the paper cover to cover...did the crossword puzzle...cut it up, turned it into an origami museum...counted the ceiling tiles...danced to my song...made love, aaaaand...oh yeah, went to the grocery store."

With that, she resumed the recliner, and made it live up to its name.

Gong! "You are now being transferred to..."

Donna tried to roll over as well, but was so full she'd a bit of a tough time. "H—...hon?"

Val declined the chair, took Donna's hands and helped her up.

"Thank you, my reason for living," Donna gratefully groaned. She kissed Valerie, then made a fateful announcement.

"I gotta take a leak."

*****

(V) Once you've invested in a project more time than it takes to get from Hawaii to Disney World—both lovely honeymoon spots, by the way—it feels like a real shame to just give up. That all that time would otherwise've been wasted. You are no doubt thinking by now that we're insane. And you're not wrong. 'Scuse me one sec, I gotta grab something...ah, here we go.

Eventually, Donna's mother called—thank goodness Donna found her cell phone—and said she'd be by next morning to warm our house a little. Now, if I may go off on a little tangent here...those of you who're all too aware that if you rearrange the letters in "mother-in-law" you get "Hitler-woman"...I've gotta be honest in telling you that Donna's Mom and I love each other. We do. But don't hate me for it, because I'm not bragging.

...Please don't let her know I told you this, but when we first met, I HATED the woman. She always called me "young lady." Ugh...she thought it was so cute. Drove me effing nuts. She wasn't exactly crazy about me either, but, well...I know how terrible this is, but have you ever had a recurring dream that your significant other's Mom died...and it feels really good?

I know, I hate me for it too. Obviously, I'd never really wish such a thing on her. But that's all in the past; we're fine now. Anyway, the reason I bring up her Mom is, she...well, maybe I should just let you find out for yourself.

Apropos all this credit card goofiness, in our now semi-loopy state, we finally decided it was time to fight fire with fire. So we said, you know what? We can wait just as long as you can prolong it. Desperate situations call for desperate measures, and so we pulled out the secret endurance weapon. The ultimate time-killer. Sunday twilight, something like...1:30 a.m.

*****

Sunday, September 8th, 2013, 1:45 a.m.

Two teacups were on the table. The board sat on the floor between them. Donna was about to fall over on her side dead asleep. Val blew on the dice, shook them and rolled.

"'Kay, I pass Go, $200, Community Chest...oh, cool, 'nother 45 bucks. Your turn, hon."

Donna didn't move. Val crawled over the board and French kissed her nose. She awoke.

"Wh—...what happened?"

"It's your turn, babe," Val explained, gesturing to the board.

"...Oh, for G—...okay, fine." Donna lackadaisically picked up the dice. She didn't roll, but just dropped them on the board. Valerie gave her a couple claps.

"Oh, hon, doubles! You got outta jail free."

"Yippity-skip," said an exhausted Donna. She rubbed her face. "...Why's my nose wet?"

Gong! "You are now being transferred to one of our efficient representatives. Please hold, and we will be with you VERY shortly."

Donna reached toward the phone. "I'll show you 'very shortly,' you little—"

Valerie took her hands. "ALL right there, sweetie, all right..." She got up, collecting their teacups. "Sounds to me like someone needs more tea!" She headed back to the kitchen.

Donna practically begged her as she did so. "No, please! No more tea!"

Val called to her from the kitchen, refilling their cups. "Donna, honey, I told you, if you win the game, I'll treat you next time we go out. Whatever you want, all day, 's on me. And then I will make you the best dinner you've ever had."

"Oh, Val, I don't wanna win the game!" Donna whined. "I don't want more tea! I either want a human being on this phone right goddamn NOW—"

Ding! "We are currently experiencing a high call volume. But please do not hang up, as your call is very important to us. Thank you for your patience."

She finished her sentence, weeping by the last word. "...Or I wanna go to slee-e-e-eep!"

Valerie came back with the teacups a matter-of-fact moment later.

"You're just going through a state of temporal somnolence due to your circadian rhythm, combined with your somewhat lethargic physiology, which would naturally result in a microsleep condition in your cerebral cortex. Not to mention your pathological adversity to delayed gratification." With which she picked up the dice. Donna stared at her.

"Great; now I'm tired, and I have a headache."

Gong! "You are now being transferred..."

Val rolled. "Yay!" she clapped. "Boxcars!" She started moving her token.

*****

(D) When I was a little girl, I used to love to stay up late like all kids do. And like a lot of kids, I'd get out of bed after I thought my folks'd gone to sleep, and sneak out of my room. The difference is, most kids, when they do this, get caught and sent back to bed. I...did not. If you have children, or, if you happen to be a children...then you know that once you're born, an internal alarm is installed in your parents' brains, that senses when you get outta bed, wakes them up, gets THEM up, and boom, you're back in bed before you know it. Five minutes later, you've gotta go to the bathroom, then five minutes after that you get thirsty and need a glass of water, and then you have to pee again, and this time, your parents actually go to the trouble of tying you to the bed. To them it's worth it, you see.