Saturday's Storyteller: In Which Belinda Scares Arden and Gets Into a Tight Place
In Which Belinda Scares Arden and Gets Into a Tight Place
by Belinda Roddie
The school year had ended, though there was still much to do. I had finished a meeting with my English department, and now I was scrolling through Facebook while adding tidbits to scripts I was working on. I was obviously being a very productive person.
Later into the night, around 11:23, I received a Facebook notification. Social media had its way with reminding me of other people. In this case, Paul Kilzer, my father-in-law, had a story to tell.
For the past thirty years, my father-in-law and mother-in-law have had a tradition of scaring each other in unique ways, forgoing shouting or sudden movements so as not to be cheap. This time, Paul had hidden himself under his bed, waited for Bethany to come in, and grabbed her ankles, growling. She had fallen over in shock and fear! Needless to say, this was incredibly humorous to me. My wife Arden and I had similarly spooked each other, though not to the degree of concealing ourselves within or under furniture.
Needless to say, I had to share this with Arden.
"Look, hon," I said, childish enthusiasm oozing from both my voice and my pores. "Your dad hid under the bed to scare your mom."
Arden swiveled around in her desk chair to face me. She had been busy multitasking, as usual - Animal Crossing was warbling from the Nintendo Switch in her hand, and both her computer monitors were displaying a Youtube video and a Reddit forum. She seemed put off or perturbed by what I had told her, though later, she would clarify that she was simply unfazed by something that she knew her parents would do. After all, it was a game they had played long before she was born. Why should she have been surprised?
"Okay?" she asked. "And?"
"It's hilarious!" I exclaimed, being the newb I was.
"Why is this pertinent information for me to know?" she asked.
I was floored, again due to my ignorance. "Excuse me," I retorted. "Are you saying that your dad scaring your mom from under the bed is not valuable information?"
"No," Arden answered calmly. "It's not."
My eyes widened. Not valuable information? Who was she to downplay such a fantastic tactic? Why did she seem so nonchalant by it? Did she not practice what her father preached in this regard? No. This would not do. I would show her that she should have taken this more seriously. Watch out, Paul, because I was going to carry out this operation a second time. Only it was gayer.
Two hours went by. We both stayed up far past one in the morning. I was waiting for my moment. I even pumped myself up with epic pirate music (Classic nerd). I knew this would have to happen tonight. If I didn't execute this perfectly, it would be all for nothing, and I didn't want to disappoint Mr. Kilzer.
"I'm heading to bed," I told Arden. "You still need to brush your teeth?"
She did, and soon, she was in the bathroom, the loud fan whirring. Now was my chance.
It was go time. I had already brushed my teeth, flossed, and taken my happy pills. I slipped into my Hobbit meal plan T-shirt and a pair of boxers and got to work. The plan was to slip under the bed, wait for Arden to head into the bedroom, and give her a fright. I was essentially following my father-in-law's plan almost to a tee. The student would soon become the master.
This was not as simple as I thought it would be. It turns out that we have accumulated quite a few boxes and containers, and these were all blocking my way to get under the bed and potentially foiling my plans. With little time and no room to make excess noise, I managed to pull out a few boxes and push aside one container full of Pokémon action figures (yes, we have a bunch of those. No, I will not give them up just yet) in order to create a pathway for myself. Binx, our lovely black cat, was making himself cozy under the bed already, and he was baffled by my appearance. I kept trying to gently shoo him away, but he was not having it for some time. Finally, he must have realized that I was being serious, and after I managed a brief back petting session, he fled.
This finally allowed me to squeeze myself fully under the bed - a very tight fit, admittedly. Everyone who's friends with me knows that I am not a small person, not by any stretch of the imagination. I'm fairly fit, but I'm bulky. I look like I could be built like a brick, but I'm fairly squishy in many areas. The day after this event, Arden described me as, "one of those old-fashioned teddy bears with the sawdust core - squishy, but also solid," which I think works pretty well. Basically, certain aspects of my physique worked both for and against me in this endeavor. As you'll read later on.
For the next five to ten minutes, I lay in wait, playing Solitaire on my phone. During that time, I decided not to grab Arden's ankles, as our bedroom is no master suite, and consequently, our bed is very close to the door. I was not interested in having Arden fall back and hit her head on the door knob or on anything else. I settled on using a scary voice instead, like I was a monster lying in wait for a terrified child. Meanwhile, Binx had returned to me after initially getting scared off, trilling and sniffing my feet. I could feel his wet nose and his whiskers tickling my soles.
"Binx, quiet," I hissed. "Quiet. I'm trying to do a scare."
He didn't listen. Cats seldom do.
Then I heard the bathroom fan die down, the click of the light switch, and the sound of Arden clearing her throat. Her feet appeared in front of me. She must have seen my phone jutting out from under the mattress because she paused and was about to say something - she told me she had been about to say, "Oh. You're not here." But I was too quick. Using a phenomenal demon voice that seems to be a skill that my mom, my sister, and I all share, I snarled the following to her:
"Is it valuable information nooooow?"
Victory! Arden shrieked and skittered backward like a startled spider, then almost immediately burst into fits of laughter. She conceded, then and there, that perhaps she should have found what I shared with her important, and that she should have seen this coming. But I had won. Just like Paul, my task had been carried out seamlessly.
Well...or so I thought.
After much giggling, I had something else to say. "Well, you don't even have to scare me back. I've already gotten my comeuppance."
"Oh?" she asked.
"Yeah," I chuckled. "You're going to have to lift the bed or pull me out."
"Wait..." Arden's voice quickly morphed from amused to intrigued. "Are you stuck?"
"Yep!" I proclaimed. "I am actually stuck!"
You see, due to the size of our bed, a metal beam runs through the middle of it to provide further support. In order to completely conceal myself, and due to the sheer number of containers that I did not have enough time to move, I foolishly chose to wiggle myself halfway under this beam, thereby lying perpendicular to the bed's frame length-wise rather than parallel to it. Because I have never been a smart man, this had the unfortunate side effect of my essentially lodging myself directly under the bed, where only my feet protruded from the other side. I couldn't go forward. I couldn't go backward. I couldn't even turn sideways due to the limited space. I was pretty much like Winnie the Pooh, only instead of being a bear, I christened myself "a wedged butch in great tightness."
Arden first found the situation hilarious - "Let's just savor this moment" - but she was obviously inclined to help me. I warned her against pulling me out by the arms - given the fact that I'm a bit "bottom-heavy," I was absolutely not going to get unstuck that way. Pulling me by the legs didn't help, either; I could thank my chest for that, as well as the way the bed was positioned very close to the wall so Arden couldn't get a good angle or a good grip (again, our bedroom ain't exactly spacious). We initially believed that the only way to free me was to lift the bed frame, and my wife, as strong as she is, wasn't sure she could do it on my own. As she surveyed everything, I continued to struggle and curse under my breath - the Lord's name was taken in vain several times by this point.
I was beginning to wonder if we'd need to get the butter when I noticed what Arden was up to. We have a large, antique wooden chest that I store photo albums and other sentimental items in, and she was pushing it away from the foot of the bed. That clichéd light bulb just popped up above my head and glowed like a supernova.
"Oh!" I cried. "You're moving the chest."
"Yeah." Arden seemed bewildered by my observation. "I have to in order to lift the bed."
"No, no! That's perfect! I'll get out that way!"
Thanks to both Arden's strategy and my brain working the way I needed it to, I was able to shimmy out sideaways via the foot of the bed, freeing myself from under the metal support beam and receiving fresh air again.
My back was sore. My legs were chafed from the floor rug. And I had to take a shower the next morning because I felt super dusty and gross. But was it worth it to scare my wife? Heck. Yes. I still even got kisses and cuddles afterward!
But mark my words...Arden will have her revenge. I don't know when or how.
I just hope it doesn't involve our bed.
by Belinda Roddie
The school year had ended, though there was still much to do. I had finished a meeting with my English department, and now I was scrolling through Facebook while adding tidbits to scripts I was working on. I was obviously being a very productive person.
Later into the night, around 11:23, I received a Facebook notification. Social media had its way with reminding me of other people. In this case, Paul Kilzer, my father-in-law, had a story to tell.
For the past thirty years, my father-in-law and mother-in-law have had a tradition of scaring each other in unique ways, forgoing shouting or sudden movements so as not to be cheap. This time, Paul had hidden himself under his bed, waited for Bethany to come in, and grabbed her ankles, growling. She had fallen over in shock and fear! Needless to say, this was incredibly humorous to me. My wife Arden and I had similarly spooked each other, though not to the degree of concealing ourselves within or under furniture.
Needless to say, I had to share this with Arden.
"Look, hon," I said, childish enthusiasm oozing from both my voice and my pores. "Your dad hid under the bed to scare your mom."
Arden swiveled around in her desk chair to face me. She had been busy multitasking, as usual - Animal Crossing was warbling from the Nintendo Switch in her hand, and both her computer monitors were displaying a Youtube video and a Reddit forum. She seemed put off or perturbed by what I had told her, though later, she would clarify that she was simply unfazed by something that she knew her parents would do. After all, it was a game they had played long before she was born. Why should she have been surprised?
"Okay?" she asked. "And?"
"It's hilarious!" I exclaimed, being the newb I was.
"Why is this pertinent information for me to know?" she asked.
I was floored, again due to my ignorance. "Excuse me," I retorted. "Are you saying that your dad scaring your mom from under the bed is not valuable information?"
"No," Arden answered calmly. "It's not."
My eyes widened. Not valuable information? Who was she to downplay such a fantastic tactic? Why did she seem so nonchalant by it? Did she not practice what her father preached in this regard? No. This would not do. I would show her that she should have taken this more seriously. Watch out, Paul, because I was going to carry out this operation a second time. Only it was gayer.
Two hours went by. We both stayed up far past one in the morning. I was waiting for my moment. I even pumped myself up with epic pirate music (Classic nerd). I knew this would have to happen tonight. If I didn't execute this perfectly, it would be all for nothing, and I didn't want to disappoint Mr. Kilzer.
"I'm heading to bed," I told Arden. "You still need to brush your teeth?"
She did, and soon, she was in the bathroom, the loud fan whirring. Now was my chance.
It was go time. I had already brushed my teeth, flossed, and taken my happy pills. I slipped into my Hobbit meal plan T-shirt and a pair of boxers and got to work. The plan was to slip under the bed, wait for Arden to head into the bedroom, and give her a fright. I was essentially following my father-in-law's plan almost to a tee. The student would soon become the master.
This was not as simple as I thought it would be. It turns out that we have accumulated quite a few boxes and containers, and these were all blocking my way to get under the bed and potentially foiling my plans. With little time and no room to make excess noise, I managed to pull out a few boxes and push aside one container full of Pokémon action figures (yes, we have a bunch of those. No, I will not give them up just yet) in order to create a pathway for myself. Binx, our lovely black cat, was making himself cozy under the bed already, and he was baffled by my appearance. I kept trying to gently shoo him away, but he was not having it for some time. Finally, he must have realized that I was being serious, and after I managed a brief back petting session, he fled.
This finally allowed me to squeeze myself fully under the bed - a very tight fit, admittedly. Everyone who's friends with me knows that I am not a small person, not by any stretch of the imagination. I'm fairly fit, but I'm bulky. I look like I could be built like a brick, but I'm fairly squishy in many areas. The day after this event, Arden described me as, "one of those old-fashioned teddy bears with the sawdust core - squishy, but also solid," which I think works pretty well. Basically, certain aspects of my physique worked both for and against me in this endeavor. As you'll read later on.
For the next five to ten minutes, I lay in wait, playing Solitaire on my phone. During that time, I decided not to grab Arden's ankles, as our bedroom is no master suite, and consequently, our bed is very close to the door. I was not interested in having Arden fall back and hit her head on the door knob or on anything else. I settled on using a scary voice instead, like I was a monster lying in wait for a terrified child. Meanwhile, Binx had returned to me after initially getting scared off, trilling and sniffing my feet. I could feel his wet nose and his whiskers tickling my soles.
"Binx, quiet," I hissed. "Quiet. I'm trying to do a scare."
He didn't listen. Cats seldom do.
Then I heard the bathroom fan die down, the click of the light switch, and the sound of Arden clearing her throat. Her feet appeared in front of me. She must have seen my phone jutting out from under the mattress because she paused and was about to say something - she told me she had been about to say, "Oh. You're not here." But I was too quick. Using a phenomenal demon voice that seems to be a skill that my mom, my sister, and I all share, I snarled the following to her:
"Is it valuable information nooooow?"
Victory! Arden shrieked and skittered backward like a startled spider, then almost immediately burst into fits of laughter. She conceded, then and there, that perhaps she should have found what I shared with her important, and that she should have seen this coming. But I had won. Just like Paul, my task had been carried out seamlessly.
Well...or so I thought.
After much giggling, I had something else to say. "Well, you don't even have to scare me back. I've already gotten my comeuppance."
"Oh?" she asked.
"Yeah," I chuckled. "You're going to have to lift the bed or pull me out."
"Wait..." Arden's voice quickly morphed from amused to intrigued. "Are you stuck?"
"Yep!" I proclaimed. "I am actually stuck!"
You see, due to the size of our bed, a metal beam runs through the middle of it to provide further support. In order to completely conceal myself, and due to the sheer number of containers that I did not have enough time to move, I foolishly chose to wiggle myself halfway under this beam, thereby lying perpendicular to the bed's frame length-wise rather than parallel to it. Because I have never been a smart man, this had the unfortunate side effect of my essentially lodging myself directly under the bed, where only my feet protruded from the other side. I couldn't go forward. I couldn't go backward. I couldn't even turn sideways due to the limited space. I was pretty much like Winnie the Pooh, only instead of being a bear, I christened myself "a wedged butch in great tightness."
Arden first found the situation hilarious - "Let's just savor this moment" - but she was obviously inclined to help me. I warned her against pulling me out by the arms - given the fact that I'm a bit "bottom-heavy," I was absolutely not going to get unstuck that way. Pulling me by the legs didn't help, either; I could thank my chest for that, as well as the way the bed was positioned very close to the wall so Arden couldn't get a good angle or a good grip (again, our bedroom ain't exactly spacious). We initially believed that the only way to free me was to lift the bed frame, and my wife, as strong as she is, wasn't sure she could do it on my own. As she surveyed everything, I continued to struggle and curse under my breath - the Lord's name was taken in vain several times by this point.
I was beginning to wonder if we'd need to get the butter when I noticed what Arden was up to. We have a large, antique wooden chest that I store photo albums and other sentimental items in, and she was pushing it away from the foot of the bed. That clichéd light bulb just popped up above my head and glowed like a supernova.
"Oh!" I cried. "You're moving the chest."
"Yeah." Arden seemed bewildered by my observation. "I have to in order to lift the bed."
"No, no! That's perfect! I'll get out that way!"
Thanks to both Arden's strategy and my brain working the way I needed it to, I was able to shimmy out sideaways via the foot of the bed, freeing myself from under the metal support beam and receiving fresh air again.
My back was sore. My legs were chafed from the floor rug. And I had to take a shower the next morning because I felt super dusty and gross. But was it worth it to scare my wife? Heck. Yes. I still even got kisses and cuddles afterward!
But mark my words...Arden will have her revenge. I don't know when or how.
I just hope it doesn't involve our bed.
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