Tag Archives: birthday

Duck Duck Dead Duck; chapter twelve, part one

“Happy birthday, Raphael!”  My mother said, beaming at Rafe.  We were at Tiburon’s admiring the fish in the aquarium they had in the middle of the room.  I liked the mood lighting and the subtle atmosphere.  We were the first ones there, and the server graciously led us to our table so we could wait for the rest of the clan.

“Rafe!  Happy birthday, man.”  It was Hank, and he had a woman with him.  The woman from the picture.  Beth.  She must have cancelled whatever other plans she had.  “We’re keeping presents until after at the parents’ house, right?”  His date waited patiently for him to introduce her, and I took the opportunity to discreetly look her over.  She was more beautiful in person than in her picture, which was saying a lot.  She had on a green dress that accented her red hair nicely, and a warm smile that was aimed at everyone.  “Guys, this is Beth.  Beth, this is my family.”  He went around the table and introduced us as he and Beth sat next to our parents.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Beth said in a pleasant contralto.  “Hank talks about you all the time.”

“Does he?”  I murmured.  I was grateful that he had introduced me as Trish and not as Dodo or Beezus or Beatrice.

“Oh yes.  I am an only child, so I love to hear his stories of growing up with three siblings.”  Her eyes rested on my sling, but she was much too well-bred to say anything.  Hank leaned over and whispered something in her ear that made her look sharply at me.  I smiled, and she reluctantly smiled in return.  The chatter was light as we waited for the rest of the family.  Next was Mona and Michele.  They were wearing matching red dresses which looked great on both of  them, but too precious.  I hated it when couples dressed alike—I thought it was tacky.  Though come to think of it, I was wearing my little black dress and Rafe was dressed in black slacks and a black shirt, so I shouldn’t talk.

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Blogging My Murder; chapter four

Chapter Four

I wake up five minutes before my alarm rings, which pisses me off. I’d rather be awakened an hour before it’s time to get up than five minutes. That’s not enough time to go back to sleep, but it’s enough time to make me not want to get up, either. I sigh and roll over, careful not to squish the cats who are spooned in a circle on the bed beside me. I give them a quick pet before sliding out of bed. They’re both out like a light and don’t move a muscle. I hop into the shower after winding my hair on the top of my head. I stay in for an extra five minutes because my body is sore. I don’t know why, except perhaps I slept wrong. The hot water feels great on my body, and I reluctantly turn off the tap. I towel off before dressing. Afterwards, I wander down to the kitchen to toast a bagel. Smearing it with cream cheese, I pop a Lactaid before gobbling down the bagel halves. I wash it down with a glass of orange juice. When I turn around, there are two fuzzy black faces staring at me. I start because I hadn’t heard them come in.

“Don’t do that!” I scold them, though my heart isn’t in it. I open a can of Solid Gold wet food and scoop half onto Onyx’s plate and half onto Jet’s. Onyx wolfs hers down, then eyes her brother’s plate. I pick her up despite her protests and cradle her to my chest so Jet can eat in peace. Once he’s finished, I allow her to squirm out of my arms and race over to her brother. She whaps him on the face, taking her frustrations out on him. He doesn’t even flinch, but when she draws her paw back for another smack, his tail shoots straight up in the air and puffs out. He hisses once, and Onyx retracts her paw. She runs roughshod over him, but she knows when he’s reached his limit. She butts her head against her brother’s instead, and he relaxes his stance. The two of them are sniffing each other’s butts as I tiptoe away. I find it’s better to leave when they’re engaged with each other because there’s less yowling that way.

I arrive at work five minutes early, so I pull out my phone and check the comments on my latest post. There are several complimentary ones, wishing Julianna a happy birthday. There’s a comment from YokoOno thanking me for the post and saying we’ll be besties forever. It’s Julianna, and I write a brief response to her before reading the rest of the comments. QueenBee comments, “Sounds like she’s more trouble than she’s worth. You can do better.” I frown because it’s the first time QueenBee has said something negative on a post. I respond by telling her that Julianna is the best, then I close out my phone. I go into the office, my feet dragging. I’m tired of hawking Groupon coupons and other online shit deals. I’m also tired of Sara’s advances, and I want her to just leave me alone. I slide into my seat and power up my computer. Sara is next to me, but she doesn’t say anything. I’m grateful, and I quickly finish some leftover paperwork before reaching for my phone. As I’m talking, I become aware that Sara is glaring daggers at me. Any time I glance over at her, she doesn’t bother hiding her anger. I blink. What the hell is her problem? I decide I don’t give a fuck and turn slightly so my back is towards her. It’s a busy morning, so I soon forget she’s even there. Before I know it, it’s one in the afternoon. I decide to take my lunch break and go to the break room so I can eat my sandwich.

“Well, fancy seeing you here.” An arch tone reaches my ear, and I look up into Sara’s stormy eyes. She’s wearing a pale yellow sweater that isn’t very complimentary to her skin tone.

“What’s your problem, Sara? You’ve been pissed at me all morning.” I stare hard at Sara, taking satisfaction in making her flinch.

“No reason.” Sara smiles, her voice tight. She clasps her hands in front of her while resting them on the table. “It’s just that time of the month. You know how it is.” I refrain from sighing at her archaic language. I also don’t like using my period as an excuse for moods, but I don’t mention that either.

“Right.” I stand up and throw away the detritus in the trash before returning to the office. I get a text from Julianna saying she’s going to be late for dinner by an hour. She doesn’t say why, but I’m used to that. The day Julianna is on time is the day I renounce sex.

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