Socked

Okay, in hindsight, ‘going to the park’ was probably a good idea.

Being cooped up in lockdown with Sally AND Mort can sometimes resemble being in lockup with Psycho Sophia and her henchman Brainless Bobby.

That’s a lot of ups and downs.

Ahem…

I know for a fact that Mom had had enough.

It was her suggestion, after all, that the three of us could, in her words, ‘use some fresh air’.

Admittedly, she had a reason for her less-than-patient, overly clinical attitude.

Sally, in an effort to show Mort how to flip a pancake, had actually flipped the pan.

Right through the window over the kitchen sink.

Which would have been bad enough. But following the whole pillow-fight-until-someone-puts-a-foot-through-the-TV-screen debacle as it did.

And this preceded by…

Never mind. Let’s just say Mom was justified and leave it at that.

So we found ourselves at the park, tails humbly and firmly tucked. 

I'm Socially Distanced from anyone who counts (ie. everyone NOT Sally and Mort.) watching the pair of them play their version of soccer.

It was a bright, warm, glorious afternoon. Perfect for visiting the park.

That is if you’re a normal person.

Doing normal ‘park’ things…

Our visit had already resulted in profuse apologies to one family for mowing down their four-year-old when he managed to insinuate himself somewhere into the action. And an offer to pay another family for cleaning when Mort missed one of Sally’s field-clearing kicks and it ended with her rainbow-coloured soccer ball landing squarely (and with some force) in the center of their gi-normous bowl of potato salad.

I looked at my watch.

We’d been here a grand total of 17 minutes.

Sigh.

Off to my left, I saw Sally wind up for another of her ‘field goal’ kicks.

Mort was ready.

Which is to say he was standing some little ways away.

With a huge, red ‘X’ painted on his head.

Okay, I’m exaggerating. There was no actual X.

Just an imaginary one that seems real.

I covered my own head, just in case…

Sally belted the ball.

It flew, straight and perfect toward Mort.

For the first time, ever, Mort managed to get beneath it and bunt it with his enormous noggin.

I was so surprised that I forgot, for the moment, to keep my hands in their usual protective posture.

You have to know that Mort’s aim sadly lacks the…finesse…of Sally’s.

But what it loses in acuity, it makes up for in speed.

By the time I realized it was coming toward me, giving credible homage to the velocity of light, I could do little else but make a half-hearted and feeble gesture toward my soon-to-be belted cranium.

I told myself death was acceptable because I had fought the good fight and briefly (because that’s all the time I had) considered closing my eyes.

Hmmm…death visible or invisible…

And then, just as I took in the short sharp breath that would quite possibly be my last, a long, muscular arm shot out of nowhere and snatched the author of my demise before it could become.

And I was suddenly looking up into the warmest, most beautiful brown eyes I had ever seen.

I admit it. I stared.

Below the eyes, a pair of firm, perfect, masculine lips curled into an equally gorgeous smile.

“Hello,” a smooth, deep voice said. “I’m Peter.”

 

 

Use Your Words is a challenge issued by the Great Karen from her lofty throne at Baking in a Tonado. And we, her loyal subjects hasten to comply...

Each month, we volunteer words, which Karen then shuffles and re-distributes. We don't know who will get our words. Or what they will do with them.

Until now!

My words this month? clinical ~ fought ~ insinuate ~ perfect ~ tail

There were supplied by my wonderful friend, Rena at: Wandering Web Designer 

Rena, I (and Sally and Gwen) thank you. You are amazing!

Here are the other participants. Read them, I guarantee it'll be a treat!

Baking In A Tornado                  

Wandering Web Designer

Climaxed 

Part-time Working Hockey Mom

What TF Sarah