It’s been a tough week for Sugar. There’s still snow on the ground from last weekend’s big drop; the temperature has been hovering in the teens; and the wind chill's got the bark of a pit bull and a bite to match. All week long that pit bull has chased SugarAnne back into the house. One day it even undercut my authority. She was tasked to go to the gym. But because of the cold she refuuuuused to go.
“I guess you’ll be able to get your ‘tweed’ on tonight”, she wrote in a chat message.
"Why? What do you mean?” (I’m actually thinking, “Oh no, what the hell unfixable thing did you do?!”)
“It’s cold outside”, she says. (I think: “Duh. Who doesn’t know that?”)
"Yes, I know”, I sanitized my internal sarcasm for external delivery.
“I’m not going out there!” She says.
I’m-not-going-out-there? I was so caught off guard by this last line that I actually tilted my head up to make sure that I was looking down through the most powerful part of my lenses. I squinted and slowly lowered my head until I could see those fateful words with the sharpest focus and clarity available. I just wanted to be sure that what I was seeing was actually what I was seeing. And that's exactly what I was seeing! Perhaps I had a virus that affected my vision. Nah. Maybe the computer had a virus? Nah. Perhaps she had a virus! Perhaps.
But there they were: “I’m not going out there" – followed by the ubiquitous exclamation point!
I mean, I can’t be seeing this! This cannot be true. It is not possible that these words were uttered from the loving pixelips of Her Royal (characteristically compliant) Sweetness. Surely there is something wrong with the World Wide Web – a glitch, perhaps, in the configuration of the electromagnetic forces, fields, rays and waves that pull and push words from keyboard to the screen and on to the screens all over the world. The World Wide Web was obviously broken!!
“Really.” My response was more a statement than a question.
“It’s just too cold”, she said. And the chat went silent for a moment.
I’m just not quite sure I’m believing this. At this point I could’ve picked up the phone and gotten to the heart of the matter. But I kinda like these chat exchanges we have each day. We actually get each other – even in chat.
I break the silence.
“You always have a choice in these matters Sugar” I veil my threat at first.
“But you’ll regret it.” Uh-oh! Here we go! It-is-on! I put my electronic bark up against the bite of the pit bull.
“I’m not going out there!” Wha’th-? There it is again! That frickin’ glitch!
"MickyD’s 3:16”, I say.
"???” She doesn’t understand.
“Have it your way”, I clarify.
“That was actually a Burger King campaign”. Oh no she di’int! She MUST have a virus!
“You know what I mean!” If the glitch were equal opportunity those letters would’ve been capitalized.
“I’m going to bed”.
That being settled we went on to chat quite amicably about other unrelated stuff. I spent the rest of the morning and part of the afternoon nervously planning a big “tweed” event. And event that outright defiance called for.
The reality of Sugar’s outright defiance was driven home quite humorously later that afternoon. It was as if God was watching out for her. I had the unusual (and unfortunate) opportunity to be called out of the office in the late afternoon – the warmest part of the day mind you. I park in a garage but I had to stop for gas.
And when I stepped out of my car the breath of that pit bull wrapped around me and the damned thing bit me right on the ass! All I could say was “OH-MY-GOD!” And I said it out loud too (yeah, I’m the pastor - smirk). I, quite literally, quelled the urge to say to other people pulling up to the pump, “DON’T! Don’t get outta your car!!” I'm serious. I was freezing my ass off!
Needless to say, the plans for a big “tweed” event were blown away by the breath of that pit bull. Yeah, I got the paddle out when I got home. I postured; even threw a little intimidation around – at first. But ended up laughingly explaining how I came to understand her outright defiance. Amnesty International is not one of my charities. But amnesty was in order and amnesty was bestowed.
But don’t think I didn’t spend a few spanks - loving spanks that is - on her willing bottom.