The Angel of Caffeine
Potion Love Numero Nueve - I'm Leaving on a Jet Plane...

Sleep is such a complex wonder. You're like unconscious, but you're still alive. It's amazing. You're almost like, not alive, but you still are. So cool. Or maybe I just think this because I've only had an hour of sleep. Probably that second one.

I got pulled out of a very nice dream by the stupid phone ringing. You see, in my dream I was Rabies, and all I had to do all day was eat and sleep and procreate, it was great... Or, at least it was in the dream. I dunno, I'm not running on fully recharged batteries here.

So, like I was saying before I got myself off track. The phone rang and it woke me up. Lionel answered it and there was a bunch of really quick dialogue that seemed to me like it was being spoken in Spanish and being muffled by my pillow, which resulted in Lionel getting out of bed, throwing back the covers to far that half of my little body was left to freeze, and then rummaging about the room and the rest of the house for various items.

I try to ask who called, but my face is buried in a pillow, and I can barely keep my eyes open, so it comes out more along the lines of, "Hunawhafuttapoe?"

Lionel must be well versed in Mumbling (maybe he took it as an elective in college), because he answers with, "That was Richard. I'm going to be out of town for a few days, so don't forget to feed the fish."

I roll over onto my back so that I can actually make with the plain spoken English. "We don't have fish." Or maybe we do, it's one in the morning, I could be a 33-year-old pregnant woman for all I know!

"Then maybe we should get some." He throws some clothing onto the bed, or to be more specific, over my face. I brush them aside. "A big aquarium full of them. All shapes and sizes."

"Where ya' goin'?" I half-yawn as the words come out.

"On a trip." He's digging around under the bed on my side for something - a suitcase I assume.

"Smart ass, I already knew that. Where are you going on this trip?"

"Somewhere." I was right, he drags a suitcase the size of a minivan out from under the bed, pitches it onto the bed - which still means my head - and begins tossing the clothing that had been tossed on me into it.

He's being a real jerk about all of this, and I'm not sure if he's doing it to be funny, cute, a pain in the ass, or playful. I'm kinda hoping it's one of those first three, because if he's being playful, this may just be a dream that I'm going to wake up from in a few hours, but at least that means I'm still asleep and not awake at one in the morning, so maybe this is the better option.

"No, for seriously, where are you going?" I say while wiggling out from under the gole'dern' suitcase.


I sit up and watch him as he paces the room, gathering his things. "Why are you going there?"

"Because Richard told me to, and the company's paying for it." I get this funny feeling that I'm not going to get much information out of him.

"How long are you going to be gone?" I yawn in the middle of my sentence again. Oh my gosh do I need sleep.

He sits down on the bed beside me and starts putting his shoes and socks on, but not in that order. "About a week, maybe more. Why, are you going to miss me?"

"Don't be surprised if the dishwasher kills me before you come back. He's been waiting for his chance."

"Was that a 'yes'?"

I yawn again. "Uh-huh."

"Oh, how sweet." Then, to ruin this perfect nice little moment we're having, he smacks me back down onto the bed, grabs his suitcase, and heads out of the room and down the stairs. He is being one damn playful pain in the ass!

I scramble out of bed and down the stairs - a nice way of saying that lack of sleep leads to lack of coordination in an already very uncoordinated person.

I get tangled in the sheets and end up falling on Rabies who is slowly waddling out of the room to see if Lionel will feed him, he makes a raccoon sound of distress that sounds like "EAREEEEEEECH!", I fall flat on my face on the hard wood floor, then drag myself to the stairs, roll/bounce/bang my head on every single one of those stairs, and hit Lionel's suitcase when I reach the bottom, toppling it over, then to make it all better, I bounce to my feet and throw my hands in the air like some Olympic gymnast that just did a back flip off the balance beam. See, I'm okay!

Rabies holds up a little sign that reads "10".

Now, where'd that S.O.B. go... wait, I can't say that. From what little I had seen of Lionel's mom at Christmas, she seemed pretty nice. I'd hate to be calling her names when she's really some nice old lady with lots of cats who spends her days knitting quilts for the poor.

Well, where is he?

Kitchen? No, he wouldn't be in there. I bet he's in his little hideout - that room with the "No Ashleys Allowed" sign on it - the den. I'd play good spy-bad spy and tiptoe around to see what he's up to, but I can barely keep my eyes open - from sleep, or a concussion from falling down the stairs.

Before my brain can process this newly come-upon information, hey I'm sleepy and that means I'm slow, Lionel comes be-bopping around the corner with his laptop bag. He's awfully chipper about this trip. Maybe he's been waiting for his chance to get away from me. I mean, the sexual tension in the house can clog your arteries, so I guess a little time away from one another would be kinda nice. Or, maybe he just finds me annoying now and doesn't want to be around me. Maybe he'll never come back. Maybe he's leaving me. That suitcase can hold a lot, so maybe he's already packed up and is going to leave me! This is so sad! Why me?!


I leap into Rabies' little arms in shock. Heh, just like on IScooby Doo/I.

Lionel half-glares, half-grins at me. "Sheesh, I've been talking to you for a good five minutes, and all you did was stand there with a dumber-than-usual look on your face. What were you doing?"

"I was thinking."

"Right... Well, while you were drooling all over yourself-" For the record, I was not drooling. "- I was saying that since I'm going to be gone, don't worry about getting to work. They'll think you're with me, or something like that. And, Leslie... Darn it, I need to call her. Can you remember to call her?"

"I don't know her phone number."

"I'll write it down before I leave. You call her, tell her I'm not going to be here, and she doesn't need to stop by unless you want her to." He starts running through a mental list, mouthing the words as he counts them on his fingers. I swear one of those word was "porn". "Ok, I think I've got everything. I'll call you when we get to the hotel, okay?"

I mumble an affirmative.

He pecks me on the cheek, picks up his luggage, and leaves the house for the jeep. Somewhere, a bird sings, the first lights of dawn peek over the mountains, little fluffy rabbits are nuzzling together in their burrow, and a early morning flight is gassing up to fly cross-country with Lionel and Richard onboard.

After the house grows completely silent again and my brain registers what just happened, it hits me like a fifty-ton sack of concrete slamming into a tiny origami crane.

"... He just... He just... He and I... He did to me..."

A wide, almost perverse grin crosses my face. I spin around and head back up the stairs. Sweet dreams to me.

Because I feel the undying need to explain myself:

#1 The holidays came around, and I'm big on family time, so I was out and about all of December. Then, #2 in early January, my computer died. #3 when I finally decided I was tired of waiting for someone to fix my computer - like early/mid February, as a result of #2, all of the files on my computer went bye-bye, so I had to try to get back all of my programs and files. I know 3 months is a little long between updates, but things happen.

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