Chapter 15 #2
“Like hats to match their suits?” Raleigh said as he paused, leaning against the back of his chair.
“Just like that,” Daddy said.
“All kinds of hats,” Raleigh added, starting to get that far away look in his eyes he always got when he was dreaming something up.
“I’d love to see a penguin in a beanie, or even a long toboggan hat that trailed down his back.
And he’d have to have a top hat too for special occasions.
And those bowl-shaped hats that gangsters always wear in old movies.
What were they called….oh yeah, bowlers, duh, they’ve gotta have one of those.
And a pimp hat with a jaunty feather, maybe one that looks like it comes from their own tails. ”
Being around Daddy was triggering that to happen a lot lately and I loved that for him.
“Definitely need my notebook,” Daddy groaned.
When Daddy stood, I decided to give it a try myself so I wouldn’t be the only one left at the table.
Because we’d used paper for everything today, we didn’t have to worry about loading the dishwasher, but it did shock me that Daddy just left everything there and followed Raleigh, who was definitely waddling.
Raleigh stretched out to his full length on one side of the giant pit couch we usually snuggled up to Daddy on, so I took the opposite side, leaving the middle for Daddy to sprawl out on while he wrote his notes.
I loved how wide and deep it was and the way the pieces were moveable, so we could configure it however we wanted, even like a bed.
Not that any of us were even thinking about moving it now so we could lay closer together.
It had taken every ounce of willpower I’d had to shamble over to the couch without groaning the whole twenty steps into the living room.
“The hats could be an accessory line in and of themselves,” Daddy murmured as he started making notes while Raleigh flipped through the channels.
When he lingered too long on the preview for Iron Chef, I chucked a couch cushion at him and instantly regretted it when the motion made the contents of my stomach feel like they were sloshing around inside of me.
“No food, Raleigh! Don’t make me come over there.”
“You couldn’t if you tried,” Raleigh replied as he stuck his tongue out at me instead of returning fire, but at least he changed the channel.
Right to Bob’s Burgers.
“Okay, you’re fucking with me now, aren’t you?” I said as I felt around for another throw pillow to toss.
“I can’t help what’s on the channels,” he protested.
“Sure, the least you can do is pretend you aren’t enjoying yourself at my expense.”
“I’m too full to pretend,” Raleigh said. “All the pressure from the food is starting to smother my imagination.”
“Then hit the button marked ‘guide,’ and we can flip through the channels that way,” I suggested. “Or better still, toss me the remote, and I’ll do it before you land us on The Great British Bake Off.”
“Works for me,” Raleigh said and launched the remote, which I bobbled, of course.
It landed on my stomach with a smack that I retaliated for by flipping him off while he snickered at me.
“You can’t make this shit up,” Daddy muttered, shaking his head at us while he continued making notes about the penguin gear.
“SpongeBob is on,” I declared.
For some reason, that just made Raleigh giggle harder.
It literally took clicking on the show to see SpongeBob standing in front of the grill, flipping krabby patties in the kitchen of the Krusty Krab for me to realize exactly what he was laughing about.
“Fuck me!” I groaned and hit the guide button again.
Daddy lost it then, his laughter muffled by the notebook he pressed to his face while I scowled at the screen, looking for something, anything we could watch that wouldn’t have food in it.
Bingo.
I clicked on Chicago Fire because Raleigh and I were addicted to firefighter shows. We’d binged every one we’d come across, including a British show.
“See, there we go, no food,” I declared and dropped the remote on the cushion beside me.
“Good choice,” Daddy said. “Have you guys checked out Fire Country?”
“We love it,” Raleigh said. “And all the 9-1-1 shows, though I wish they’d let Lone Star go on longer. Nashville is cool, though. It just sucks that we can’t have both.”
“I love those,” Daddy said. “And Rescue Me. Third Watch is amazing too, though that one is like 9-1-1. It isn’t just fire; it’s EMS and police officers too.”
“We don’t usually like cop shows,” Raleigh said. “But when it’s a mix of all three, we really get into the show, so Third Watch is a favorite of ours too.”
“What are your feelings on medical dramas?” Daddy asked.
“Let’s just say we had some long, interesting debates about McDreamy and McSteamy,” Raleigh admitted, just as Chicago Fire returned from commercial break, not to them fighting a blaze, but to Casey serving up portions of his infamously beloved corned beef.
“The universe hates me,” I declared, not even bothering to reach for the remote.
I just pressed my face to the couch cushion and let out a long-suffering sigh at the unfairness of it all while Daddy and Raleigh snorted, giggled, and had a good, hard laugh at my expense.
I hoped their sides hurt by the time they were finished; this was so not fair.
Someone was going to find a pile of black licorice jellybeans on his pillow when he came to bed tonight, and if Daddy kept laughing at me, he was going to find some on his pillow too.
Disgruntled, my bunny and I decided that there was only one way to escape the food porn that seemed to have invaded every channel.
We were taking a nap!