Good 'Till Christmas
If Christmas doesn't happen in the next 2 hours, I'm in serious trouble. This being good business is the PITS and it's killing me! I can only be good for just so long... and what does that mean, anyway?
Isn't "being good" a subjective standard?
For instance... I was "good" this morning. Did I yell at the pups for sneaking into the bedroom? (Somebody left the door ajar last night... Don't look at me! Would I allow "285 lbs. of sweet deprived, lonely, need to snuggle with their mom" pups do such a thing? That was a purely rhetorical question. Don't answer that!)
Is it really my fault that they smooched me awake with kisses but chose to goose His Holiness, the Admiral, with their cold muzzles? Was it my fault that he was asleep on his tummy and his naked two-star butt was a handy target? (And just who pulled the covers off of him when the pups slinked their way into the bedroom in the first place? Don't look at me! Must have been Wonder Woman.) Wasn't I "good" when I didn't laugh out loud when he woke, roaring and swearing? Tsk. Such indelicate comments.
And wasn't I extra "good" when I made the coffee just the way he's supposed to like it during the holiday season? Is it my fault that I made a whole festive pot of café con leché when he decided he likes his coffee black, holiday or no holiday? Okay, so he doesn't really care for café con leché but I do! Did I comment when he used some rather familiar but vulgar language and strung them into a most unusual combination when I suggested that he should place red licorice sticks in all the office coffee cups at the base? Well, honestly. I thought it was a nice holiday gesture. He mumbled something about civilian women... pregnant... and barefoot in the kitchen.
Moving right along...
I was also *exceptionally* good when I bought a few Christmas presents this year. I shopped early, good girl that I am. I pondered long and hard over what to get for David. ~sigh~ The man's a giant piss-ant and much too easy (heh heh) to shop for. I considered giving him a jockstrap but that is so-o-o personal. It was hard to ignore the one I saw on a store mannequin... a sweet shade of pink with little yellow bumblebees... really tiny bumblebees... I think they were bumblebees... the darn thing was really small. Now wasn't that good of me? And didn't I pass up a chance to give him dinner out with a Japanese wrestler... female... 400+ pounds of hunka hunka love? I am really too good to that man.
And aren't you proud that I saved a bunch of money by sending him a two-year supply of syringe enemas (cheaper by the crate) not to mention that 3-year subscription to that underground newspaper that caters to who's who and gay in the Marine Corp?" These underground newspapers are so-o-o informative. They list the addresses, world wide, for adult bookstores and a calendar of events for gay and bisexual marines. I know he'd be so disappointed if he missed a play party. And didn't I send him the sweetest purple lace teddy, extra, extra, extra large to accommodate his chest to wear to one of those shindigs? Okay, so I threw in a penile enlarger, but is it my fault that he...?"
Truly, I thought that was very generous and so *good* of me. Don't you?
Yesterday, I "out-gooded" myself! His Eminence bought enough green vegetables to feed half a million slugs! How generous! I thought as I packed the vile veggies into his SUV and donated them to the food bank. Was that good? Or was that good? I just love the Christmas spirit. And did I make a derisive remark when he yelled at the top of his lungs that if he wanted to donate them to the food bank, he would have dropped them off and not brought them home? Tsk. Tiny Tim would be so ashamed of his Scroogie attitude. I should call the coal company and see if they can spare a lump or two.
Even I am impressed with my goodness...
There is a junior officer under his command who has a crush on my Admiral Cowboy. She has made a royal pest of herself, calling, dropping by the house, and acting like a teenager with raging hormones. I have taken to calling her Lt. Hormones-For-Brains. The squid is not amused - either by her or by my name for her. The last time she called, I answered and said that the Admiral was currently occupied... and then I giggled suggestively. She hung up in a huff. The squid was not happy with my remarks even though he is annoyed with her and gave me a very *undeserved* swat.
He has reprimanded her about her behavior several times so of course, supportive partner that I am... I made a few suggestions.
I suggested that she be transferred to Uganda. He suggested I behave.
I suggested she be assigned latrine duty. He suggested I behave.
I suggested she could use a weekend with a long-haul truck driver. He suggested I behave or else.
I suggested that he spank her. He came toward me and I ran like hell.
He *did* transfer her... to David's command! That should be fun.
One of the problems with being good until Christmas is... instead of behaving as I normally do, I've unspent energy... and... find myself thinking about what I could be doing... For sure, I resolve to get into far more creative mischief in the New Year. Count on it!
In the meantime... I've been really good! So good... that I created 100 cards that say "Give Sar a sweet spanking!" and stuck them in Cowboy's Christmas stocking. I also created 100 cards that say "Get out of a bad girl spanking," and stuffed them in my Christmas stocking. Ummm, not that I would ever deserve... I mean, I'm rarely in a position to worry about... well, I'm really an angel... maybe, not exactly... an angel but in a 24-hour day, I'm pretty good in 15-minute stretches... sort of.
Well, wouldn't you know it! The giant squid peeked inside the Christmas stockings! He found the "sweet spanking" cards and laughed and said he thought he could handle administering those. He was most impressed at how well I forged his signature on the "get out of bad girl" spanking cards. Unfortunately... he decided that they don't go into effect until after Christmas and growling softly, moved toward me with "that look" on his face.
"Does this mean I've got 100 *get out of bad girl spanking* opportunities," I yelled as I ran out the kitchen door and into the backyard.
"In your dreams, little girl," he laughed as he came after me.
"Is this negotiable?" I asked as I took refuge in the dog kennel where I keep the bi-polar German Shepherd. (Dog smooched me and snarled at Cowboy.)
"Maybe one," he offered as he grabbed the dog by the collar, pulling my protective barrier away from me.
"Only one?" I turned to look at him instead of heading to the other side of the yard. "Only one after I went to all that trouble to make 100?"
Well... that was a mistake. I should have headed for the trees and the sanctuary of the top branches which hold my weight but not his.
"You already run amok," he grinned as he tossed me over his shoulder, one excessively large hand firmly patting my butt. "God knows what you'd do if you could get away with murder any time you felt like it."
"Only 100 times," I clarified. "That still leaves 265 other days in the year." Okay, so that slipped out of my mouth before I realized what I was saying.
The wretch was laughing so hard I thought he'd drop me! "Wonder Woman! I need you!"
"She's not gonna help you this time, cara mia. I've got you and your butt is mine!"
"A sweet spanking?" I suggested when we got to our bedroom. "
What do you think?" he grinned as he made short work of my jeans and sweater.
"I think you love me and are going to show me how much," I smiled, then remembered those words could be misinterpreted... and suddenly got worried.
"Read your letter to Santa," he murmured as he turned me over and onto his lap. "Santa's here and he's delivering your present early."
And the band played on...
This being *good* business has possibilities. But this being *bad* business has *much* more potential!
Happy Holidays everyone!