Written with the prompts: take a cat nap, some of the rocks, anger, majestic benevolence, grand rising, I got the real story a few days later
I like to take a cat nap mid-afternoon and I won’t apologize for that. When I took up with Harold, he used to tease me about it, told me adults don’t need naps, only babies and toddlers need naps. I should have sent him on his way right then and there, but I was such a good-girl-people-pleaser, just-wanted-to-be-liked-type of gal back then. Well, what can I say? I learned my lesson, and I guess if I hadn’t I wouldn’t be here now.
One summer day, Harold snuck into my apartment when he knew I was napping, Harold did, and he replaced some—not all, but some—of my rock collection with crystalized sugar rock candy. I guess he thought that was funny. He had a warped sense of humor. He took my favorite quartz pieces, he did, and left me with some kind of grand rising rock candy mountain.
I never did get the real story as to why or when or how, but Harold claimed he didn’t think I would notice. Well, I did notice—you know, when the ants showed up, swarming around what I thought was my favorite geode. After that came the raccoons, with their thin pink tongues, and next came a long-nosed ant eater! It was a riot in my living room, spilling into my kitchen, and out onto the deck, when thank God, Coyote showed up! Lord knows we needed a predator to chase the others away. What happened next, but old Harold arrived, eager to gauge my reaction with a magnanimous display of majestic benevolence. So Coyote and I pelted him with what remained of my rock collection, and Harold had the gall to get angry. Well, Coyote pointed out that Harold was a bully anyway, and I was well rid of him. Coyote and I became vegans and moved to the desert. We make sand candles and sugared chili peppers, and sell them to passing motorists. It’s a good life.
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Photo by Simon Ray on Unsplash