EDITORS NOTE: Neil threw down the gauntlet and demanded more kitten photos and sex stories out of this blog. Today, I deliver ....
The package on the front porch was wrapped in simple brown paper. No return address.
My husband had ordered some adult goodies off the Internet about a week earlier. It appeared that the Sex Toy Fairy had finally delivered.
"Looks like we won't have to watch reruns of "LOST" tonight!" I exclaimed, digging through the junk drawer to see if we had any fresh batteries. Oh how I adore anything rubber that takes at least four double-A's.
My husband, meanwhile, tore into the package, emptying the contents on the kitchen counter. One of the naughty items was a spankin' new vibrator just for me.
I waited for him to put the batteries in so I could check out the engine. I wondered if this one may have hydraulic suspension, or maybe a turbo setting. I heard these things had StabiliTrack now - so if you got carried away and lost control it could at least correct itself before your eyes rolled out of your head.
SNAP went the battery case, as he turned the switch to "on."
It was the fucking door bell! Damnit! It was probably our elderly neighbors. If they saw what was on the kitchen counter we would most certainly have a double-coronary on our hands. Not to mention that they would be throwing holy water on us for weeks! I hate it when they do that! It stings!
"Coming!" I called as my husband and I scrambled to hide the evidence.
Nonchalantly and with my best virginal look, I answered the door. No one was there.
Maybe we took too long to answer, I thought. Or maybe it was a salesman who thought we weren't home.
Shrugging, I returned to the kitchen counter and helped my husband retrieve the toys from inside the vegetable compartment of the fridge.
He picked up the vibrator again and switched it to "on." I held my breath.
"FUCK!" I exclaimed. This time, my husband threw a kitchen towel over the items, while I stomped to the door and flung it open. Again, NO ONE.
"FUCKING KIDS!" I screamed. We recently had new neighbors move in across the street who looked like rejects from the "Jerry Springer" show. We had a few altercations with them over the last two weeks. I thought for sure they were trying to get even by ringing the doorbell and running away. A classic joke. They were probably hiding in the bushes somewhere having a good laugh.
"I'M CALLING THE COPS IF YOU FUCKING RING THIS DOORBELL AGAIN YOU GOD DAMN DELINQUENTS!" I shouted. For effect, I picked up a broom and started poking at the bushes, determined to gouge one of the slimy derelicts eyes out.
A few probes later, I decided to go back inside.
My husband picked up the dish towel, then the vibrator.
Veins bulged out of my neck. Steam came out of my ears. I could feel my blood pressure rising.
I opened the door, this time too angry to scream when I was again greeted by nothing. I fumed and fantasized about burning down the "Springer" neighbor's house.
I closed the door and went into the office, which overlooks the front patio and the front door. I crawled on my belly until I could just see out the window, without anyone outside being able to see me.
I'll catch those fuckers, I thought. I'll catch those fuckers red handed.
My husband stood in the hall and waited for my signal. We had it all worked out like an FBI sting. When I saw the bastards, he would fling open the front door and ring their puny little necks.
One minute. Two minutes. Five minutes. Ten.
Finally giving up and thinking their fun had taken its course, we both went back to the kitchen. All that stress left me needing extracurricular activities more than ever. My husband again picked up the vibrator and tried to turn it on.
This time it was my husband who snapped. With a low growl, he stormed to the door and ripped the door bell mechanism out of the wall. It was very sexy, in a bad-ass kinda way. He then stormed to the other side of the kitchen and opened the door to the garage, flinging the mechanism as hard as he could into the cavernous waste that houses not only our car, but all the useless shit we've ever owned.
"THERE!" he exclaimed. "YOU CAN'T RING IT NOW YOU BASTARDS!"
By this time we were both red-faced and sweaty. And we had yet to get out of our clothes. Determined, he picked up the vibrator, turned it on.
DING DONG! ... the doorbell echoed pitifully from the garage floor.
We've all had moments when a great truth - an important revelation - has come to us suddenly. On this day, it came to both my husband and I simultaneously, and our eyes met in one grand instant of understanding.
My husband turned the vibrator off, then on again.
It seems that this vibrator didn't have StabiliTrack, but did have another interesting feature. It made the doorbell ring.
My husband and I stood in shocked silence for about a minute. And then we laughed. And we laughed. And then we laughed some more. I think one of us may have peed ourselves laughing. I'm not quite sure.
Is there a moral to this story? I don't know. Maybe, "Don't burn the neighbors house down until you have proof they are bastards" or "Read the fine print when buying items off the Internet."
All I know is that I can't hear a doorbell now without smiling. I also get a little wet.