Month: May 2020

It’s All Fun and Games Until a Viking Starts Cheating!

Since the weather was shit this weekend and we didn’t feel like sitting out in freezing temperatures and drizzle, we opted to amuse ourselves inside.  And what better way to amuse ourselves than engaging in Stabby Sports – Darts, for the less stabby people.

The Viking is far better at Stabbing than I am – it’s probably a Viking thing.  He’s so good that he gives me a substantial handicap to try to even up the odds – the first one to 301 points wins and the last stab has to be on a double.  Except for me…..I don’t need to hit a double because we both recognize that just hitting the dart board is an achievement.

So, I made myself a Lemon Gin and Tonic and he indulged in Beer with Clamato Juice and we picked up our darts.  I went first.

Me (throws darts):  Oooooo……that’s a 43!

The Viking (throws):  What the fuck?!  3?

Me (shaking imaginary Pom-Poms):  Oooooo….nice job!  Keep up the good work.

The Viking:  Just throw your darts.

Me:  Wow!  That’s a 47….best score so far!

The Viking (throws his darts):  For fucks sake!  9?

Me (dancing like a witch at the Spring Solstice celebrations):  YES!!

The Viking:  Pfft!

Me (throws):  WooHoo!  64!!  Has the student surpassed the Master?  (Evil laughter)

The Viking:  19 for fucksake!  And you had better watch out, Karma is going to get you.

Me (shrugging philosophically):  Of course it is.  It always gets you in the end, but I will dance with the Devil until it does.  Besides…..I prefer to celebrate my wins when I can because you know it only takes one throw and you’re on top again.

The Viking:  Throw your darts!

Me:  37!

The Viking (glaring at the dart board and then adjusting it):  This thing has moved to the right.  Why does it always do that?

The Viking (throws his darts):  113.

Me:  What the fuck?!  I find it highly suspicious that you suddenly throw 113 AFTER you adjusted the board.  I want to go to the Official for a decision.

The Viking:  What official?

Teddy wanders by.

Me:  Teddy!  The Viking is cheating!

Teddy:  Are you talking to me?

Me:  Yes!  The Viking is cheating.  He adjusted the dartboard and now he gets 113 points in a single turn.  I need you to sanction him by 100 points.

Teddy:  You don’t happen to have any treats, do you?  I find it difficult to make informed decisions when my stomach is rumbling.

Me (giving him treats):  Okay.  Now rule and force him to subtract 100 points as his penalty.

Teddy (licking lips):  I don’t really understand the rules so I’m just going outside to patrol the perimeter.

Me:  Turncoat.

Teddy (shrugging):  I bet you regret blaming that fart on me last night.

The Viking (singing):  Karrrrrmaaa

Me (throwing my darts):  15.  I blame you for this.  You ‘adjust’ the board and suddenly the whole game is rigged in your favour.  I’m pretty sure that’s against some sort of ‘Viking Code of Honour’.  Before we play again I’m going to install a proper Official.  One that you haven’t paid off.

The Viking (throws):  92

Me:  29

The Viking stepped up to the line, assumed his Dart-Throwing Stance and took aim.  And then………….. “Ouch!  What the fuck?!  Did you just stab my ass with your dart?!

Me (straight face):  I don’t know what you’re talking about.  Maybe someone has a VooDoo doll under her desk.  And even if she does, you deserve it for cheating.

The Viking:  I’m not cheating.  The board had moved.

The Viking assumes the Stance again and tries to aim but, clearly, he’s nervous because I’m petting one of my Darts and testing the sharpness of the point.  He tries again and then laughs when I kiss it ever so gently.

Finally…..

Me:  The unknown person, or persons, with the VooDoo doll is probably satisfied with just the one poke so you can relax.  Everyone knows it’s only funny once.

He smoked me in that game.  And the next game.  I won the third game, purely by accident when I blundered into a triple 19 and two other high points.  That deserved a celebratory Turkey Dance!  In reality though, I couldn’t hit what I was aiming at to save my life.  If we ever had to defend ourselves against our Enemies* with nothing but darts, I could maybe hit the attacker but it’s anyone’s guess whether it would be with the pointy end or not.

So, it’s a good thing that I don’t take Stabbing very seriously.  I go in knowing the odds of winning are close to zero.  And that’s okay with me.

Besides, it’s all fun and games until a Viking starts cheating.

*Not that we have Enemies.  At least I don’t think we have Enemies, but who knows?  There might be someone out there with less than warm feelings for us but that just means we need to be careful about telling new people our real names and hope everyone else has forgotten already.  

Talk To My Back, Lady!

We tempted the Gawds with a road trip across provincial lines during the time of Plague.  And while the Gawds couldn’t be bothered with our trivial rebellion, Teddy had a differing opinion.

It’s The Viking’s fault, really.  He’s always wheeling and dealing, trading this thing for that thing.  I can’t keep up.  He is perpetually in the midst of several complicated barter agreements with shadowy people I may or may not know.  And it was one of these transactions, which involved a generator, some sundry motorcycle parts for the seller of said generator and $500.  Now that Weather has decided to indulge in Spring, The Viking wants to get Generator installed in Fifth Wheel Trailer in the slight hope that we might be able to take it camping this summer.

So, we got our shit together – hand sanitizer, disinfectant in a spray bottle, toilet paper*, and non-alcoholic (sadly) drinks.  It was 4 hours to get there, probably an hour waiting/chatting (with 6-foot social distancing of course), and another 4 hours back.  We’d be home for dinner.

And we were.  Right on time.  Izzie shouted** greetings at us but Teddy was nowhere to be seen.  I didn’t think about it much because he’s not the ‘rush-to-the-door’ kind of guy; he prefers to strike a dignified pose by the refrigerator and give me a chin nod and ‘love eyes’.  I just assumed he didn’t hear us come home and would show up on time for dinner.

That didn’t happen though.  The Viking quizzed Izzie….

“Where the fuck is Teddy?”

“Who cares?” was her response, and then, “I notice you haven’t fed me yet.  Tick, Tock!”

While The Viking was dishing out food, I called for Teddy.  “Suppertime, Teddy!”  That’s usually enough because food is extremely important after the year he spent living on the mean streets of Homelessness.

Eventually he wandered close to the back door, studiously refusing to look at me.  “Are you coming in?”  He just sat there looking at the neighbour’s house.  “Okay, fine!  I’m not standing here all night holding the door open.”

I still didn’t realize that Teddy was angry.  It was 3 hours later, when he sat down in the middle of the livingroom without looking at me that everything started to click into place.  His customary entrance in the evening is a chubby trot followed by a full body slam into my lap.

“Are you mad at me, Teddy?”  To be honest, I was a little shocked.  We named him Teddy Bear because that’s exactly what he is.  He’s sweet and gentle and lovey.  He’s the best cat on the planet.  Except for an itty-bitty, teeny-weeny streak of stubborn.

His answer was to deliberately turn his back on me.

I probably didn’t help matters when I started to laugh, but in my defense I’ve never seen him angry before.  “Oh, come on, Teddy Bear!  You can’t be mad at me.”  And yet, he was.

My previous cat would get angry with me but all it took was a cuddle and she couldn’t help herself but forgive me.   Apparently, Teddy is made of sterner stuff.

“We were only gone for 8 hours and 25 minutes!  You can’t be mad about that!”

……

“Seriously?  You aren’t going to talk to me because I was gone for a few hours?”

……

I picked him up and tried to give him a love.  He actually braced his front feet against my boobs and strained his head and shoulders away from me!!  “Oh, come on!  I’m sorry!”

……

I appealed to The Viking.  “He’s mad!  At me!”  The Viking was totally unhelpful and, most likely, secretly amused because the cats never blame me for anything – he’s always the ‘Fall Guy’.  As soon as I put Teddy down, he turned his back on me again but didn’t leave the room.  I suppose this was his version of a ‘lecture’ since I couldn’t help but see him with his back turned, full of indignation.

“It’s not even my fault!  It’s The Viking’s fault!  He was the one that bartered himself into a road trip and forced me to go along.”

……

“I wanted to stay home.  With you.”

……

“I would have cuddled you all day long, but The Viking said it was more important for me to keep him company.”

……

“Honestly!  I cried all the way to Longview!”

……

“He tied me up so I couldn’t get away!”

……

“I was a hostage!”

……

“You’re going to hold a grudge against a Victim?!”

……

Sheesh!  You would think I had pinched his Airmiles Card!

He didn’t look directly at me for the entire evening.  Not a single ‘love eye’ or brush against my leg.  The Viking, on the other hand, was the surprised recipient of many ‘love eyes’ and even a body slam to his lap accompanied by deafening purrs.

I’m not sure who wanted me to notice more – the angry cat or the pleasantly surprised Viking.

 

*I decided to rely on rest area pit toilets and severe liquid rationing to limit my contact with any Plague Carriers.

**Shouting is her permanent speaking tone, with or without swearing and name-calling.