Finally, some time to myself. Things have been so busy lately, I haven't really had a chance to just sit quietly and relax. Of course, if any place is going to be quiet and secluded, this would be it. It's just me, the shower curtain, the sink, and my DS. I snuggle down on the cold porcelain and turn on an old classic I've been meaning to revisit: Mario Kart.
With all the games that have come out for the DS since the little racer's debut I'd almost forgotten what a blast it is. The power slides and items and all the different karts to choose from, I'll just run a race and then try to see if I can find a quiet place in the house to spend with the grand prix. Just one race. One more race. Just one more race after this one. Otherwise my wife will get suspicious.
Roger has been in that bathroom for 20 minutes. I can't think of what he is doing in there, unless . . . oh no, I hope it wasn't the chicken. That's the first time I tried it in the oven like that.
Lord, I'll never hear the end of it if I've made him sick as a sick dog. I better go check on him. What's the use in having a husband if you just poison him to death?
"Honey?" My wife knocks on the door. "Are you ok in there? Your stomach hurt?"
"I'm fine, dear. No problems. Be out in a minute!" I shout back. Ok, I should go after this battle game. A few more popped balloons and I'll finish up and leave.
Damn! I got hit! If I don't re-inflate I'm finished! I take a deep breath.
Listen to him panting in there! He sounds like he's giving birth! Is that the sound of the toilet rocking back and forth? I better get the pink stuff for when he comes out. From the sound of it I might need to go buy some more.
"Man, I just can't pass this guy! Come on you little turd!" He groans loud enough for me to hear it in the next room. Poor guy. Be strong Roger.
I hate Toad so much! He's always using those cheap little blue shells. He doesn't know how to race like a man. Enjoy 2nd place while you can you little mushroom bastard. I'm coming for you.
I can't help but rock as I jerk the wheel back and forth to pull those red sparks and burning tires around the hairpins. I'm so close to the lead car's rear bumper I could spit on him. The wind rushes by my little tan tank and the speed boost sets me up to pass on the next turn. Then he lays out a banana right in front of me.
"God! I can't believe I ate that!" he screams. I'm already scraping the leftover dish of chicken out into the garbage.
"No sir, Scruff." I scold the dog as he eyes the trash. "I don't need two sick dogs on my hands."
I feel so bad for Roger. I should go see if he's in any pain.
"Roger? Hon, I'm so sorry. It was the chicken wasn't it?" My wife through the door again. What in the hell is she talking about? Does she know what I'm doing?
"No, babe, it was a banana. Kind of snuck in there at the last minute." I shout at her.
"Well, that's what you get for sneaking in snacks after dinner!" She huffs and I can hear her stamp off.
What in the hell?
A whole plate of chicken in the garbage! I can't believe I was worried about that big lummox in the first place. I should have known that it was just him getting himself stuck in another ridiculous situation!
This is not good. I'm curious about what in the hell chicken has to do with Mario Kart so I put it on standby, but, in my feverish attempts at beating Toad to the finish line I hadn't realized that my legs have gone numb.
Everything's cool, though. I can make it through this. Just have to get the blood going to the old stems here. What do they do in the wild when you can't feel your legs? I think they beat on them. Maybe that will get the nerves to wake up.
I start to slap my thighs. They are starting to get cold.
Is he slapping himself in there? "Roger what the hell are you doing to yourself?" I swear it's like living with a mental patient. I wonder if straight jackets are expensive.
"I'm trying to wake my nerves up! I can't feel my legs!" he shouts.
"You are such a drama queen! You're just doing the same thing in there we all have to do everyday!" I roll my eyes and go back to the TV. A scream erupts from the bathroom and I just turn the volume up. What a freak.
Pins and needles like I've never experienced in my life explode throughout the nervous system in my legs. I am torn between screaming or biting my tongue till it bleeds. Screaming it is.
I'm making a mental note to keep a hacksaw in the restroom when the pain starts to become manageable. At least I can move my legs again. I lift myself up to a standing position for the first time in an hour and a half. The blood sloshes in my head like a thick wine and I have to concentrate on the steps to take to get myself in order and dressed.
The sound of the swirling water in the toilet has an almost calming effect as the cold air from the rest of the house blasts me when I open the door.
"Hey, you lived!" My wife beams up at me from the couch. "Well with all that racket I hope you at least got something done in there."
"Yeah, I won." I sigh.