Writer Lady is just sitting down in the Big Writing Chair when she hears a distant knock and the inevitable call, “Door!” coming from the far side of the house. A long suffering sigh escapes as she rushes to answer. She finds the dance team from the local high school standing on the other side.
“Hi.” One girl smiles.
“Is Bubba home?” A second girl asks.
Writer Lady thinks calming thoughts before she responds. “No girls, I’m sorry but he’s not here at the moment. He’s out of town for a few days.”
“We wanted to invite him to join our dance club.” Another girl says. “We all had such fun at the parade last weekend. We have some great ideas for the next home game.”
“Doesn’t Bubba have to attend high school to be part of the dance group?”
“Technically yes but we can have guest performers that aren't students.”
“We checked with our advisor and the principal. They're both really excited about Bubba joining us for a song.” The first girl adds.
“When is your next practice?” Writer Lady asks.
“Tuesday afternoon.”
“Why don’t you ladies stop by on Tuesday before practice, Bubba should be back and you can invite him to make his guest appearance, how about that?”
The group of girls nod. Another girl steps forward and holds up a loaf of bread surrounded by plastic wrap. “Friendship bread. We all put some of our starter into the dough because we all want to be his friend.”
“A lovely gesture.” Writer Lady says accepting the gift. “I’ll be sure he gets this and tell him about your shared contribution. I look forward to seeing you ladies on Tuesday.”
“Thank you.”
“Thank you.”
“Thanks ma’am.”
The high schoolers leave, Writer Lady closes the door behind her. She stops in the kitchen and places the food gift on the “Bubba” shelf in the pantry next to the other food gifts. She returns to The Big Writing Chair, her hands hover over the keyboard when she hears...tap...tap...tap.
“Would someone get the door?” She calls. “I’m writing!” Writer Lady begins typing with gusto as she mutters. “Ten years in this house without a single visitor you take one dragon to a parade and…”
Tap…tap...tap
“Read the sign!” She calls. “Tell them to read the sign!” The muttering continues. “Visiting hours. We had to set up visiting hours just to get some peace and quiet. Peace and quiet that I’m still not getting!” She lowers her voice, imitating Tinkletoes. “No one will notice a thing.”
Another sigh is expelled from her lungs.
“What kind of moron thinks people aren’t going to notice a seven foot dragon? What kind of a lunatic believes that moron?” Writer Lady looks at Dobby who's sleeping nearby. “I don’t know who to be more worried about Tinkletoes or me.”
“Don’t worry about The Missing Link.” House contributes. “He’ll do something fatal eventually.”
“That’s not very reassuring.”
“It will be a lot more quiet.” House continues. “I’ll finally be able to give my common areas the feminine touches they deserve.”
“I thought you were done with that. It’s okay with me as long as it’s not too...girlie.” Tinkletoes says entering the room.
“I made a fresh pot of coffee before I came in here.” Writer Lady says without turning to face him.
“Thanks for the intel but that’s not why I’m here.”
“Did you point out the sign?”
“Sign?”
“To whoever is at the door?”
He shakes his head. “The perimeter is secure. No new visitors have entered base camp.”
She turns The Big Writing Chair and faces the self-proclaimed mercenary. “What do you want?”
“Tacos?”
“I made a batch of enchiladas three nights ago remember? Taco Tuesday?”
“You didn’t make tacos.”
“It was Mexican food, isn’t that the point of Taco Tuesday to have a excuse to eat Mexican food?”
“No.” He counters. “Taco Tuesdays are for tacos and only for tacos.”
Writer Lady looks at Dobby, the ginger tabby opens one eye, peers at both humans, closes the eye and rolls over before returning to his nap. Deciding that getting back to her writing is more important than debating anything with the person standing next to her, Writer Lady keeps her response brief. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“So, when will there be tacos?”
“On Tuesday.”
“Great.” Tinkletoes turns, heading out of the room.
She hears, “One more thing,” halfway through her pivot. Writer Lady turns back to Tinkletoes, “Could you use decent filling this time?”
“What do you mean when you say, “decent?”
“Real meat. Not that…”
“Fake meat? I don’t use fake meat.”
“Whatever it was last time sure the hell wasn’t meat.”
“It was beans. Beans and veggies.”
“I’m a man. Men need to have meat in their tacos.”
Writer Lady pulls up the internet browser on her computer and searches tacos. “Let me share some intel with you. Tacos can have any number of different kinds of fillings. Not all of them are meat. Some have beans, vegetables, fish, tofu, or eggs in them. They are still tacos.”
The self-proclaimed mercenary looks at a picture of a vegan taco which has been filled with tofu, corn, sweet potato, tomato and avocado. “That’s disturbing.”
She crooks a finger and gestures to him to come closer then whispers, “There are some tacos out there that don’t even have cheese on them.”
Tinkletoes shakes his head. “I will not stay here to look at such...carnage.” He looks at Writer Lady. “I need tacos on Tuesday. Man tacos.”
“There will be tacos.” Writer Lady says, a small dimple appearing with her smile, one that only appears when mischief is afoot.
“There it is. The mean streak.” He says pointing at it before leaving High Command.
Writer Lady responds with her most innocent shrug before returning to her story. One where the characters are suddenly hungry for tacos.
Tap...tap...tap
Tap...tap...TAP
“I can’t work like this!”
Dobby raises his head then sits up, “Mom?”
“I’m sorry kitty. That tap...tap...tapping sound is driving me nuts.”
“What tap...tap...tapping sound?”
“You don’t hear it?”
Dobby raises his head a little higher, moving his ears in various directions he listens more closely.
Tap...tap...tap
“It just happened again. Did you hear it?”
“No Mom.”
“Has anyone else been hearing strange noises?”
“No.”
“There’s no way my hearing is better than yours.” Writer Lady begins searching High Command when she finds nothing, she retrieves the Big Red Flashlight and begins searching the rest of the house. Closets and drawers, nooks and crannies. Writer Lady checks heating vents and windows only to come up empty. She digs out her thermal leak detector and searches everything again. She searches throughout the day and well into the night to no avail.
She is searching the “Bubba” shelf of food gifts in the pantry when she hears it again.
Tap...tap...tap
“Tap...tap...tap.” House repeats.
“House? Have you been tapping the entire time? Did you think it was funny?” Writer Lady’s face turns red. “It’s not funny!”
“Sorry to break it to you but it wasn’t me.”
“TP?”
“Wrong again.”
“Pirate?” She asks.
“You really suck at this.” House responds.
“Who is it?”
“Wouldn’t you like to know.”