Bedroom Wars I: A Serial Story in Sixes
by Fred Meyer
Tired of all of the bickering about sheets being tucked in just the right way, fair and equitable blanket sharing, the light being on late at night, his clunky flopping and tossing and turning, and a hundred other things, Brian Dawson took a thick, black Sharpie and drew a half inch wide line down the middle of the fitted sheet. He tossed the rolled up bed sheet and comforter onto his wife Kate’s side of the bed, sped into the guest bedroom and looted it for its bedding, jumped back into bed and covered himself with his spoils, and took great pleasure in the work of his hands, chuckling quietly while he waited for her to come out of the bathroom.
She came out, saw what he had done—and was not amused, AT ALL—but gracefully got into bed anyway, exhausted from a long day at the office, having no desire to fight with him, yet again, about their sleeping arrangement and his foolishness. Brian, frustrated with all of the bed nonsense but still in love with the wife of his youth, in the best Yoda voice he could muster, laid down the gauntlet: “Begun the Bedroom War has.” Meeting precisely over the black line, he playfully kissed her goodnight, being neurotically careful not to cross the invisible barrier onto the enemy’s side of battle.
Startling then annoying Kate, Brian suddenly flopped over (just like a giant fish would if it were out of water, in a bed, and trying to move from the middle to the outside edge) far onto his half of the bed, and then fell asleep while mentally and gleefully plotting his next move; she rolled over slowly and noiselessly and lay awake until 2:00 a.m. wondering what she had gotten herself into when she chose to marry the class clown instead of the captain of the football team, even though the jock asked for her hand in marriage first.
TO BE CONTINUED…
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