This weekend, my sister-in-law came up from Vermont to visit and while it was a great time, it certainly was odd having a woman around the house.
It meant that nighttime trips to the bathroom included some sort of pant-wear, it also meant that the door had to be shut, much to the anger of the kitties. When you have two guys living together things tends to de-evolve into pantless fart machines. Having a guest makes that all the more painfully obvious.
One morning I was feeling mischievous and I ran from the bath (freshly showered) to our bedroom, nude. No one saw me even though I knew Syl was in her room reading while SharkBoy was somewhere else in the apartment. I was safe.
Suddenly, I heard footsteps coming towards the bedroom – ah here comes SharkBoy, I though. I also thought it would be funny to flash him some man-bits as he walked past the door, seeing how the taboo of naked was 24 hours strong and the act would garnish some prudish kind of indignation reaction.
I start to whip my hips side to side, fast, to make DeadRobot Jr swing in the breeze. I raise my arms over my head, the backs of my wrists touching, like Marylin Monroe. Flap flap flap.
…just as Sylvie crested the bedroom door.
Our faces were like mirrors. Our eyes locked first and then hers went down. Mine went wide. We both screamed. I launched myself into the closet, gasping for breath between the screams and the laughter.
“YOU’RE NOT SHARKBOY!” I yell.
“MY EYES!!” She yells.
We’re family now.