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When your wife demands you find that noise!

Posted by on Tuesday, September 5th, 2017 @ 8:05 pm.

I have been battling a bug as of late.

No, it’s not anything catchy, or catching.

Not that I wouldn’t share it with a select few people given half a chance, but then that wouldn’t be nice now, would it?

The reason that little factoid is vital to the following story is because the treatment involves a certain number of liquid drops throughout the day and a vial once to twice a week until the treatment course is complete. Unfortunately, the treatment takes more than a year; but we don’t do mainstream healthcare where you get a shot and a handful of pills and all is well. That simply doesn’t work in the real world, regardless of what you might be accustomed to.

No, we prefer all natural means of caring for our health here in my house and so the treatment isn’t anything anybody would recognize and I won’t bore you with the exact protocol.

What I did want to make clear is that the drops, taken in the evening, can make the patient wake the next day drowsy until at least one cup of coffee has been consumed.

So about a week ago I was plodding along, taking my drops as prescribed without any side affects.

The routine I have created over the past 14 years publishing this newspaper has always had wiggle-room built in so nobody gets too tired and burns out.

And I expect everybody to abide by my direction with the one and only exception being me.

The last issue ran a bit late and was close to missing deadline which I can NOT tolerate so I pushed everybody including myself and we gave birth to another issue on time.

To reward ourselves here at command headquarters I insisted we sleep in the first day following deliveries.

Suffice it to say were dead tired and didn’t even bother setting the alarm clock the night before.

It seemed like I had just gotten into that warm, fuzzy, Zen state of sleep when I heard my bride ask: “What was that?”

“What?” I asked back.

“That noise.”

“What noise?”


“It was nothing,” I assured her in my best commando, I-am-in-charge-here tone.

“Aren’t you going to get up and see what that was?” she responded in her I-don’t-care-what-kind-of-special-training-you-may-have-had tone.

I informed my bride that it was probably one of the cats and promptly went back to sleep.

I had just re-parked my brain into that Zen state of comfortable sleep again when I felt a finger poking my shoulder.

I knew from several years of wedded bliss that the digit belonged to my bride because I have been coaxed into performing acts against my better judgment with it, like driving a SmartCar through flood water, eating green vegetation I could not identify, and poking things with sticks (it’s not exactly an inside joke; readers of our Facebook page will thoroughly understand.)

“What?” I asked as gently as a non-gentle-feeling individual can ask.

“There it is again!” she responded.

“There is what?” I asked trying to get back to my comfort zone.

“That noise.”


“Not cats!” she insisted.

“Cats make noise honey, that’s part of what they do,” I explained. “They make noise when people are sleeping. And like in a video game, they get a certain number of bonus points if they can get a human to stop what they are doing and try to figure out what they are up to.”

That’s about the point where she used my First, my Middle and my Last name, making all three sound like some kind of alien cuss word.

“I want you to get into full commando mode and perform a search of this house and report back on what that sound is!”

“If I wanted to spend my off time looking into every little sound that exists on this planet I would never have gotten…”

“I mean it this time…!” she interrupted.

And that’s about the time I tossed the bedcovers back, sat up, grabbed the .45 caliber handgun I keep on the bedside table, locked and loaded a live round, and stood up.

That’s also about the time I heard the noise that sounded as if somebody were inside the house banging and prying open one of the many doors we keep locked.

So there I was, half asleep, moving quickly from mildly annoyed to atomically furious.

Oh… Yeah! 

And I had a loaded gun…!

So I proceeded to take a shooter’s stance and yanked open our bedroom door.

Thump, Thump Thump…

I still wasn’t awake enough to figure out where the sound was coming from, but I was darn sure awake enough to shoot whatever was making the noise once I found it.

So I burst into the hallway, snap-checking right, snap-checking left, looking up.

That ‘up’ part is what gets most folks. 

People never think to look up.

I have hidden up on numerous occasions and it seems to work every time.

Anyway… Nothing.

So I proceeded into the living room and heard the sound again.

Thump, Thump Thump…

I ran in half a squat, right arm extended out in front of me, holding the handgun supported by the left hand, and made my way into the dining room.


Thump, Thump, Thump…

I was now WIDE awake and well… let’s just say ‘angry’ doesn’t touch the mood I was in.

I ran into the kitchen, first pointing the loaded gun at the refrigerator, then the stove and finally at the toaster (Transformers. Toasters can be sneaky), each time aiming, making sure the front sight was lined up with the rear.

I was in what my bride calls extreme prejudice mode.

Very bad to be on the wrong side of that.

I yanked open the laundry room door and burst down the stairs, sweeping the gun from quick-right, quick-left and around the entire room.

Oh, yeah, and checking the ceiling for any bad guys hanging around up there…


As I was walking head down, gun lowered, back toward the bedroom, I was making my way through the living room when I spotted my cat smacking the side of my desk trying to smash a fly before she ate it.

That’s just what she does.

Softens them up, tires them out and then eats them.

I knew a guy… Oh, never mind.

As I watched, my cat kept swatting at her winged prey: Thump, Thump, thump…


That did it!

I was going to head back to bed and report in to my bride that I was right and I wanted something resembling an apology or at least my own bucket of ice cream.

I turned from the living room and had taken one step back toward the bedroom when I heard: THUMP, THUMP THUMP!

The sound was coming from the front door.

Not my cat.

Someone was knocking on the front door.

I was so tired, so out of it from being foggy from the treatment drops, that I stomped to the door, yanked it open and with a two-handed grip, shoved the gun out in front of me and yelled, with teeth gnashed and in the most intimidating voice I could muster, “WHAT?

The UPS guy, eyes bugging out of his head, stutter-stepped backward but stayed on the tiny front porch.

I suddenly felt bad for overreacting, placed my left hand on the frame of the door leaned and lowered the gun in my right hand toward my feet and tried again but nicer.

“What?” I asked.

“Having a bad day, sir?” he asked, sounding as if he genuinely cared.

“Something like that,” I responded, looking at him.

“Thought so…”

“And just what, pray tell, may I ask, caused you to think I was having a bad day, except for the gun, of course?” I asked, starting to get ticked off again.

And that’s when he pointed to my midsection and explained himself with one question: “Clothes?”

As I slammed the front door I could hear the guy laughing his butt off as he walked back to his truck, having deposited the latest box of office supplies we’d ordered at my feet.

I left it there and stomped back to bed.

When my bride asked what was going on, I explained to her that it was only my cat and she was just doing bad cat stuff and not to worry about it.

“Do you always talk to your cat?” she asked.

“Only when she’s being bad and waking me up,” I responded.

“Good because there for a minute I thought I heard you open the front door and start talking to somebody. And you’re not exactly dressed for that…”

Short URL: https://www.disclosurenewsonline.com/?p=94974

Posted by on Sep 5 2017. Filed under 15.06.5 - Sept 2017, Surly & Uncooperative. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0. You can leave a response or trackback to this entry

3 Comments for “When your wife demands you find that noise!”

  1. mistis

    I’m laughing so hard I’m trying not to wake up my husband and step daughter. I’m so sorry, Jack, but my laughter intensified when I read the UPS man’s response to your question. Now your “bride” (I love that, by the way) knows you weren’t just talking to your cat…Lol. 😉

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