Entertaining ( 7 pages / 3700 words)
As I sat on the floor wiping the cake from my face, I wondered how it all got so out of hand. It was supposed to be just a simple dinner party. Now my social life was ruined, my house was a mess, and I’d never get the stains out.
It was a long road to this point, and I should have seen it coming, but I didn’t. I think it all began 4 weeks ago. That was when it all started. I had just stepped inside the foyer of my North Raleigh house when the whining began. I looked down at the small furry creature I held in the crook of my arm. She looked back up at me with a worried expression.
“Aw, Mom,” My thirteen year old son Justin whined. “Not another one.” He looked at the tiny dog I held and shook his head. Justin was thirteen going on forty. He hid from life with his computer and Wii. At five feet ten inches, you’d think he would be out playing basketball. Right. The only basketball Justin played was a video game.
Emily, my daughter walked out of the den, looked at me and sighed. I almost laughed. When had Em learn to do my sigh? On her tiny twelve year old body, the sigh lost most of its drama and made her just too cute. Of course I didn’t dare tell her.
She stepped up and held out her hands. “Give it to me,” she said in a serious tone.
“But,” I began.
“Jane Heather Doe,” she said firmly. Her eyes were as serious as a twelve year old could be. “You hand that poor dog over to me right now.”
I handed the dog to Emily. The tiny Maltese wagged her whole body at the attention from a new person.
“Mom,” Justin whined, “You promised.”
He was right, I had promised, but she was just so cute! I had to adopt the poor little creature as soon as the shelter let me. Justin, Emily, and my husband Bill had an “intervention” last month. After I adopted four dogs, they felt I had to face my addiction. I, of course, allowed them their say, and told them I would be more considerate of their feelings from now on. I mean really, Just because I liked a few dogs, doesn’t mean I have a problem.
“Look at her,” I said, “She’s so tiny, you’ll never even know she’s here.”
Right on cue, the tiny dog twisted out of Emily’s grip and scrambled across the foyer floor towards the den. She must have smelled… Uh oh!
The sound of a large dog barking and a loud crash came from the room. A high pitched yip followed by a higher pitched yelp had all of us running into the room. We all stopped and stared at what we saw.
Our tiny new Maltese was walking back and forth in front of Rocky, our cocker Spaniel, who was cowering behind the fireplace set. Seeing us in the room, the larger dog jumped out and ran behind Justin, peering at the tiny madwoman at my feet.
“So,” Emily said with an accusing look on her face. “She’s so small, we’ll barely notice her?” She stared at the broken lamp beside the couch. “Dad’ll kill you, and we’ll end up in an orphanage,” she sighed again. She was quite the little diva in training.
“I’m going upstairs,” Justin announced. “If you and Dad get a divorce, I want a car.”
“You’re only thirteen!” I yelled up the stairs as he vanished into his cave.
“Yeah, but you’ll feel guilty enough to get it for me anyway once Dad kicks us all out.”
Yeah, like I’d be the one going. I felt a weight on my ankle. I looked down and saw my grateful little friend squatting on my foot. As warm water filled my Monolo, I realized I shouldn’t have stopped to change before I came home from the shelter.
I didn’t get divorced. Bill was pretty tolerant by the time he got home. Apparently both the kids called him at work and warned him. By the time he got home he had already accepted the fact that I had a new pet and there was nothing he could do about it.
Besides, Bill knew better than to argue with me right now. Aside from the normal stresses we always had to go through, Justin was doing his Eagle Scout thingee; and I have to organize most of it. I call it a thingee, because I honestly can’t seem to take it too seriously. Bill, and his father make it sound like Justin just made general in the army. I still see it as a dress up game they do a few times a month.
Sure, I get the responsibility and the accomplishments. But this is Justin. He’s only thirteen! He’s a baby, not a soldier. Besides, when was the last time the boy scouts were called out to help with a national disaster? But Bill insists that this is a big thing, so I smile and go with it. In any event, Bill is still trying to suck up to make me happy about that dinner party he is throwing for work.
The next morining, I was drinking my morning coffee when Bill came into the kitchen intent on ruining a perfectly average day.
“I’ve got the list of dietary restrictions for the party,” he announced.
I stared at him. I still had half a cup of coffee before he should dare talk to me.
His smug look folded up when he saw my annoyed expression. Realizing he’d interrupted my morning ritual, my husband went for a more subtle approach.
Bill’s version of subtlety was to quietly slide the paper onto the table beside my coffee cup and beat a hasty retreat. My version of subtlety is to ignore the paper while I drank my coffee.
I read the list in horror. Mr. And Mrs. Silverman required kosher food. James and “Sunshine” Cooper ate only vegan food. Charlie Wells was on Atkins, so he could eat only meat. Henrietta Jones was allergic to shellfish and peanuts. Sharon Ashe needed gluten free food, and Bill’s boss was lactose intolerant.
So I had to eliminate dairy, seafood, breads, pasta, nuts and meats, and it had to be prepared in a kosher kitchen. Yeah, that was do-able. Not!
I can’t deal with this right now… I need to shop! Besides, it’s a good opportunity to get a new dress and replace the shoes that died such a horrible death last night.
“Emily!” I yelled, “Let’s go to the mall.”
The thunder if little feet on the stairs lets me know my daughter is coming. She’s dressed in a black T-shirt that says “I eat glue!” a pair of well worn blue jeans and sneakers. Her hair is tied in a ponytail that bobs from side to side as she squeaks to a stop beside me.
“You’re going dressed like that?” I asked
“Well, duh.”
“Young lady , go get changed. We can’t have you looking like a bum in the store.”
“Umm, Mom, it’s a clothing store, they know I need new clothes.”
“Emily, if I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a thousand times, your appearance makes you a person to get attention. If you want to get attention from bums and homeless, dress like them. If, on the other hand, you want people to treat you like a respectable young lady, you have to look like one.”
Emily sighed again. What was with all the sighing lately? She thundered back up the stairs, and five minutes later came running down again. She wore a slightly wrinkled peach sundress and some decent sandals. It was probably the best I could get from her, so I let it go.
We climbed into my Lexus RX 400 Hybrid. I love my new SUV. I glanced back, and looked down at the in dash back-up camera display. The screen, surrounded by aluminum controls, showed the edge of my garage and the driveway behind it. I pulled out into our loop driveway, and drove out of into our subdivision. Just two turns later, and we were on Six Forks Road. A short ways south, and we passed over Raleigh’s own raceway, otherwise known as Highway 540.
After a short trip, we pulled into the parking lot at Crabtree Valley Mall. We walked into the mall and I headed straight for Bandolino. I needed the perfect pair of shoes to build my outfit around. I froze in horror when I saw the barricade.
“It’s gone!” I squeaked. My shoe store was closed! No notice, no warning, it was just gone!
“What? You mean that old lady shoe store?” Emily asked.
I stared down at the evil alien who had somehow come from my body. “Old lady shoes?” I gasped.
“Yeah,” Lets go to Journeys,” Emily urged.
I stared at my daughter. Journeys was a nice store. If I was trying to prove I was still a teen or a twenty something stylista, I might even go there. For a forty-year-old woman, it was just…wrong.
I sighed as I looked around at the suddenly alien shopping center. With another sigh, I headed for Macy’s.
It took all day and several shopping centers for me to find a kosher, vegan, lactose free, Atkins compliant, hypoallergenic outfit. I had to settle for a little black dress and a pair of cute little strappy heels. As big as Raleigh is getting we really need some new clothing stores.
Usually I’m happy to have a party, but this one is the exception. This party was for Bill’s department at work. Bill wants the supervisor’s job. This party was his way of showing his boss that he could handle the stresses caused by the … diversity of employees in his department. They had gone through fourteen supervisors in three years.
I was downstairs making last minute checks when the doorbell rang. Showtime! The first to arrive were Jim and Sunshine Cooper. Bill wasn’t even home from work yet and people were already arriving.
Jim Cooper was in his work clothes; a button down shirt, some slacks, and a tie. Sunshine wore some sort of cotton muumuu thing with several scarves attached in various places. She glanced around the room and zeroed in on our leather couch. Her eyes narrowed for a split second.
I stepped up to her, “I know it’s not classy,” I whispered, “But it was in a second hand store, and we couldn’t allow the poor animal’s sacrifice to be tossed away like that.” I hoped my face didn’t give up the lie.
“It certainly looks new,” she said, her brow lowering in concentration.
“Why, thank you,” I said innocently. “I did my best to make it look nice.”
She tilted her head and stared at me. She wasn’t sure whether to believe me or not.
“I understand you work at the animal shelter,” she said.
I didn’t have to fake the smile this time. “Yes, I do. I love working with the animals. But I don’t actually work there, I’m just a volunteer.”
Sunshine nodded, her new respect suddenly apparent. We spoke for a moment until the next guest came and I had to excuse myself. Where was Bill?
Georgia and Charlie Wells were next to arrive. I did my best to keep the conversation away from food. Letting Atkins diet Charlie and vegan Sunshine talk was just a volcano waiting to explode. I managed to steer the conversation towards kids. Since neither couple had any, I was able to dominate the conversation and keep them calm.
Henrietta Jones was the office peacemaker. As soon as she arrived, I passed over the responsibility of peaceful co-existence to the sharp older woman. Henrietta is the only one of Bill’s co-workers with whom I regularly socialize. She already knew all about the problems and had offered to help in any way possible. While I ran upstairs to pry my kids out of their rooms, Henrietta would keep the volcano cooled.
My kids sulked on the cursed leather couch as more and more people arrived. I greeted couples and singles, and pointed out the appetizer trays. There were several conversations going on at once, and Henrietta and I made out rounds visiting each one and making sure it was good party talk, with no heavy subjects. Where the heck was Bill?
Sharon Ashe arrived with a fanfare of trumpets. Actually, there was just the doorbell, but the way she acted you would have thought there were trumpets and an honor guard. The almost anorexic blond quickly zeroed in on a group of married men and strutted over, her back arched uncomfortably to show off her enhancements. I saw at least three wives glare at their husbands as the men stared at the office supermodel. Where the hell was Bill?
When Bill’s boss, Seth Howard arrived, I had barely gotten to greet him when Sharon wrapped her arms around him and gave him an “R” rated hug. Even my dogs don’t hump people’s legs like that. I had to take control; I had kids here!
I pulled her aside, and whispered in her ear. Her eyes got a big as saucers and her jaw dropped. She excused herself to go to the bathroom.
Bill walked in moments later. He’d been helping his boss take care of last minute work things so the man could make the party. Extra points for Bill.
The party went well from that point on. Sharon Ashe behaved herself, and fun was had by all.
At the end of the party, Seth pulled Bill and I aside. “I’ve been trying to get Sharon to leave me alone for weeks,” he said, “I have to ask. What did you say to her?”
I smiled “I told her that a visitor to the company had used the restroom and as a result, all the men at work got bad cases of lice. I warned her she could get it too if she touched any of you.”
Seth let out a belly laugh. He slapped Bill on the back once, and said, “You two are great. You both think outside the box. Good luck at the new job Bill.” He shook my husband’s hand, leaned over and gave me a peck on the cheek, and left.
3
All things considered, I think the party was a success. It was such a huge success, I thought maybe I could have a party for my co-workers and co-volunteers at the shelter. I forgot that I was not alone, and my family is... well, they are my family, so I can say it. They are idiots. It was a disaster.
I remembered all this later as I sat on the floor wiping the cake from my face, I wondered how it all got so out of hand. It was supposed to be just a simple dinner party. Now my social life was ruined, my house was a mess, and I’d never get the stains out.
I sighed, looking the dress I’d worked so hard to find. It was ruined. Butter-cream frosting dripped from my chin into the subtle cleavage. There was pasta hanging from where my daughter had stuffed it in the laces in the side of the dress. I even had barbecue sauce in my strappy little heels.
Someone was going to pay for all this, and I knew exactly who. My beloved family was now in the dog house.
I squished up to the shower, intent of being clean before my revenge. Once I was squeaky clean, I would plot my revenge. How dare my family do this to me. How dare they take a dinner party for volunteers at the animal shelter and turn it into a zoo!
They’d had everyone bring their dogs. These people were volunteers at the county shelter. Each couple had at least two or three dogs.
My husband promised to have special dog sitters and free grooming. As each family arrived, my kids met them outside, took their pets and hid them in the back yard and the garage. I had no idea the dogs were even here.
Once dinner was served they let the dogs in; all of them. Twenty shelter workers had over forty dogs. Five of them were our own. Forty dogs at a dinner party!
Then my kids; the angels of my life; started tossing food to the dogs. At twelve and thirteen, my kids should know better. The pack of dogs went wild. When my husband joined in, tossing food to the dogs that were left out, I knew my party was a disaster.
In seconds, the other guests were wrestling with their pets and tossing around food. Jim Davis took a handful of chicken noodles and shoved it down his wife’s back. She had to get revenge, so he ended up with a broccoli in his pants.
The caterers hid as my guests invaded the kitchen. Pies and desserts were quickly turned into projectiles. People were splattered everywhere, and the dogs were jumping up for more. My shepherd, George, sat on me after I tripped over another dog. He licked at my hair, trying to get some of the sauce that ruined my updo.
I stood back up just in time to get a piece of cake to the face. I’d barely wiped my eyes clear when Emily, my twelve year old daughter stuffed pasta with alfredo sauce into the laces that ran up the side of my dress. That was when I left the party.
Now, I was going to get my shower and then it was time for revenge.
The next morning as I sat at the table having my coffee, I waited for the inevitable.
After a night of cleaning up the mess, I was tired and ready for the family to leave so I could take a nap and catch up on my sleep. I’d actually gone through the house and removed almost all the food from the kitchen. I didn’t throw it all away, that would be way too expensive. It was all hidden in various places throughout the house; places my family would never find it. I had to throw out some of the refrigerated items, but I put all our frozen goods in the locking chest freezer and hid the key.
“How mad are you?” my husband asked as he stepped into the room.
I ignored him and sipped my coffee.
“Okay…” he said. “I guess that’s pretty mad.” He looked around the kitchen, and seeing no food, shrugged and left to get morning take out.
My kids came next. They thundered down the steps, and set about searching the cabinets for food. There was nothing. I’d made sure the cupboards were bare.
“Mom,” my thirteen year old son asked, “Where’s the cereal?”
I ignored him.
My daughter had the audacity to glare at me. I gave her “the look,” and she gasped and backed down.
I put a ten dollar bill down for each of them. “The school cafeteria makes breakfast. If you hurry, you’ll have enough time to eat.”
My daughter looked at me in horror. Eating breakfast in the cafeteria was a social nightmare. She would probably go hungry rather than eat this morning. It was her choice. Besides, she helped make me a social outcast; it was the least I could do for her.
My son would probably eat in the cafeteria anyway, but he’d know it was punishment and he’d remember the lesson. He wasn’t stupid, in spite of his behavior last night.
My husband was the problem. It didn’t matter to him if he didn’t get fed at home; he could always get take out. I had to get a different type of revenge on him. So I did.
The kids were happy to be sent away for the night. They had visions of a real meal without an angry mother at their friend’s houses.
My husband came home to a candlelight dinner. He walked in the house and his jaw dropped as he saw my negligee. It had been an expensive trip to Priscilla’s on Glenwood Avenue, but it was worth it. His brain was turned off, just like I had hoped.
I sat on his lap and hand fed him the casserole I prepared just for him. He happily ate it all.
“Was that good?” I asked, perched on his lap.
“It was wonderful,” he said, hands wandering down my arm. “Now for dessert?” he asked.
I ignored his question. “I thought you’d like it. ‘Alpo Casserole’ is going to be one of the new dishes I’ll be serving from now on.” There wasn’t actually any Alpo dog food in the casserole, but he didn’t know that.
His face turned bright red and he coughed a couple times. “Are you serious?” he asked.
I nodded, backing off his lap.
“You really fed me dog food?”
I nodded again.
He scratched his head, probably not sure whether to believe me or not. “Is this revenge for last night?”
I nodded again.
“Is this it? I mean is there more to the revenge still coming?”
I shrugged.
“So the lingerie isn’t part of a ‘tease and don’t deliver’ revenge?”
I shook my head.
He reached over and pulled me to him. “It’s a good thing,” he said. “If I wasn’t so distracted by you in that outfit, I’d be furious.”
The rest of the night was… eventful. I never thought the way to a man’s heart was through dog food.
Now, every time I say anything about having guests over, he demands I promise to serve him Alpo casserole by candlelight the next night. If I don’t promise, he threatens to pull another prank. My kids think he’s crazy, but I’ve never enjoyed entertaining so much in my life.
