"No Mr. Antelope, I swear those aren't mine. They were in my glove compartment? Then they must be a friend's. I have no need for cabbage streudel." I don't talk to myself. I talk to plastic antelope figurines. There's a kind of maturity to it that raises me from the level of a fifth grader to that of Jack Black. "That's quite alright Mr. Antelope. I understand. I'm sure Iowa still welcomes you."
"Shut up, Ellie."
Lying next to Devon is stellar and all, but I felt the sudden urge to save the polar bears or rescue a child from a burning building. What if there's a burning building and one conspicuously placed disoriented toddler and I'm not there to play the hero? I'll have to ask Mr. Antelope later. I shifted uncomfortably in the bed sheets, rolling under Devon's arm to face him. "What's Flotsam?" I whispered.
"What?"
"I hear people talk about Flotsam and I don't know who Flotsam is. I feel like I'm missing out on some wonderful phenomenon. Like the Ice Capades."
Devon groaned and covered his head with a pillow momentarily before getting up, taking a handful of blankets and walking away toward the living room.
"Look a YETI!"
"Do you always have to shout that when I walk around without my shirt on!?"
"Short answer: yes."
"Someday they'll lock you away for good."
"There's no time for that! There's a yeti on the loose!"
.....
My momentary head banging binge to Atreyu ended tragically with the immoral punishment that is morning sickness. Devon woke up from the couch long enough to point and laugh while I cuddled the toilet. I don't know why he was laughing, lately the toilet's been getting more action than he has.
"So how's the morning sickness going?"
"Let's just say it's not a beautiful day in my neighborhood."
"Want breakfast?"
"Devon, I'm puking."
"Is that a no?"
"No," I said pitifully, hoping for the world I could mysteriously develop the talent to puke and eat at the same time. "I want bagels. I want mountains of bagels. And I want whipped cream. And syrup. And raspberry syrup. And strawberries. And pancakes. And cream cheese. And bagels. Lots of bagels. And artichokes. And potatoe salad. I love potatoe salad. I love it so much I'm going to marry it. And have little potatoe salads. Now that would confuse the doctor. But at least there'd be no question about who the father was."
"It's times like this when I wish I'd just stayed on that sidewalk and never talked to you. Ever since that day when you followed me home and I asked the landlord if I could keep you. I promised to feed you and walk you every day and pet you, all when I could have just turned around and led a wonderful Ellie-free life."
"Wait a minute, I'm sensing an insult in there somewhere."
"People do say you're the smart one."
"Well if you didn't introduce yourself as Freddy Kreuger and kept your ewok imitations to a minimum they might get a chance to see your intelligent side."
"I should have known you were high maintenance when you wouldn't stop screaming after you got your eyebrow pierced."
"I was sleeping! You pierced my eyebrow while I was sleeping!"
"I figured if you didn't want it you would object."
"I was sleeping!"
"That's what you said when I caught you eating three pecan pies with chop sticks," Devon laughed.
"Oh my God! For God's flipping sake you're such-"
"Are Catholic school girls allowed to just throw around the big guy's name like that?"
"This is coming from a guy who thinks Eric Clapton is god?"
"I'm not a guy, I'm a man!"
"Chill out, Pinocchio."
"I'm a MAN!" He shouted.
"And now the whole apartment complex can rest happy knowing you have a lovely bunch of coconuts."
"I'm glad we got that settled. So what do you want to do now?"
"Now, you go pack for San Francisco and I'll go go buy some potatoe salad."
"Or, we can go back to bed," he said, winking at me.
"But I've had so much fun playing hard to get."
"Oh please, I didn't even have to pretend I was a brain doctor."
"And like you weren't all over me like white on Conan O'brien."
"Nice smilie."
"Thank you."
I finished brushing my teeth to remove any contents of my stomach that had lodged themselves between my teeth- I tried to phrase that as nicely as I could, really I did.
"You finish vomiting." Devon kissed me quickly on the cheek. "I'm going to go have a smoke."
"Not in the house!"
"Of course not!"
HERE IS YOUR QUEST: TELL ME HOW BADLY IT SUCKS. SERIOUSLY, MESSAGE ME WITH OPINIONS FOR IMPROVEMENT- BE HARSH. PLEASE!
< Note: I will NOT advertise your stories. Don't ask me too.
They say being pregnant heightens your senses. I can only hope this includes my common sense but right now my ablility to smell the stench of Devon's cigarettes from the next room over is pretty much overriding anything else. And here's another fun factoid:
Pregnant lady + cigarettes = Courtney Love.
"I swear to a mountain of fricking bagels that you will never be able to have children again you useless, inconsiderate fuckass!" I spotted Devon standing innocently by the front door, a burning cigarette in his hand. He saw me and his eyes immediately widened in fear. See Devon run. Run, Devon, run!
"Oh hell!" He barely had time to shout before I followed through on my promise to render him sterile and kicked him where his 'lovely bunch of coconuts' resided. I can't be held responsible for things like this when my hormones are doing the hokey pokey and turning it all about.
"ELLIE!" I heard someone yell my name and swirled around from Devon's crumpled form on the floor, to look at.... Devon?
"Fricking A! Devon?!" I gasped.
"Dave!" He shouted, gawking at the guy on my living room flooring.
"Dave?!"
"I told you I was getting you a babysitter!"
"But I didn't expect you to go out and get a clone for the occasion!" At a closer look the Devon squirming on my carpet clutching his private region, didn't look as much like the Devon beside me as he had when my hormones were wigging out to the 8 Mile soundtrack in my mind. He had lighter hair for starters, and his face lacked the freakish amount of holes and piercings that coated Devon's face- in short he looked less like the victim on an episode of CSI and more like a member of Franz Ferdinand minus the radiating gay aura.
"That's your brother?! You're his brother?!" I looked from Devon to Dave. "I'm so sorry! I promise never to touch your testicles again!"
Dave stood up cautiously and pulled Devon into a short hug while eyeing me nervously. "Now I know why you told me to knock when I came over," he said.
"Sorry, Dave! Devon! Devon! Dave!" Looking very much like a bobble head, my eyes skirted between the two. "Oh great, now I'm dyslexic."
"She's leaving right?" Dave asked. "I mean, she's not the girl-"
Devon shook his head vigorously. "Isn't she great?!"
"Oh," was all Dave answered, a hint of confusion and disappointment in his voice.
Yeah, I am so kicking his scrawny little ass.
