Grumble...Moan...Whine...Complain...
by saradora
~~~~~~~

We had a minor earthquake in the area a couple of months ago - it was very deep and there was no damage. Unfortunately, the epicenter was directly under the navy base and set off all kinds of alarms. Grumble... moan... whine... complain...

The phone rang in the middle of the night and a few minutes later, a helo landed in our back yard - waking the neighborhood. My outside Rotts went nutso.

The mastiff crashed through the bedroom door to "save" me; the indoor Rott growled at the squid like it was his fault and the bloodhounds started baying - assuming that if we were awake - food was on the horizon. (Since it didn't affect him, the cat slept through it all.)

His Holiness had to fly to Hawaii early that morning to be a part of a U.S. honor guard receiving the remains of a Vietnam Vet. The Vet had been a naval officer and the squid was honored to be selected to be there. So he only had about 2 hours sleep when the earthquake hit and had to go to the base to check out what was going on and then flew straight to Hawaii. Before he left, he told me to behave Rolling my eyes... like that was gonna happen and not to wander too far from the house because it was pretty chilly out... I was just over a chest cold... yada yada yada.

Instead of flying out of Whidbey Naval Air Station, the squid had to go to McChord AIR FORCE base and mingle with grunts and flyboys. Hahahahahaha. Serves him right.

I was left on my own... for too many hours... Unfortunately, the squid had alerted a very large (almost 7 feet tall and weighing more than the Chrysler Building) marine to keep an eye on me. That was the bad news; the good news is that the big guy and I are old friends and he's a wuss at heart.

I convinced him that we had to drive down to this shop (about 50 miles from home) where my sewing machine was being repaired 'cause I knew it was ready... and we could stop at McDonalds and have a bite to eat before we came home. A bite for me, several bites for the pups, and the rest of the restaurant's inventory for the big guy. So he gets in my car and the wheel goes flat...

And the axle on the wheel cracks... Grumble... moan... whine... complain...

And we go in his car - a Hummer - and he drives faster than I do! And then my cell phone rings and guess who! The squid wants to know what I'm doing. Honestly... the man has built-in radar.

"What are you doing, Sar?" he asks softly.

"Nothing."

"Where are you, Sar?" he asks in his voice of command.

Well... you see it's like this. I've only been down to that teeny tiny little town once and I'm not sure where the sewing machine repair shop is... except that it's near the golden arches...

"Where are you, Sar?" Cowboy asks again, a little louder this time.

I got lost the last time I drove down that freeway; haven't a clue where we are... but pretty sure we haven't crossed the state line.

"Um... nowhere."

"How far are you from home, bambina?" asked in a voice just soft enough that I know he's clenching his fists and making a mental note to get to the "bottom" of this when he gets home.

~sigh~

"Um... not too far."

"Is Bull with you?" he asks.

"Uh-huh."

"Put him on the phone." This said in a tone that means he's no longer happy with me.

Don't say it! I know exactly how you feel; I was shocked, too.

"Bad connection, Cowboy," I fabricate and might have gotten away with it except a giggle escaped!

"Sarrrrrr!"

Sheesh!

"He wants to talk to you," I tell the big fellow.

Bull is soooooooo naive. He takes the phone like a happy little puppy and says "Yes Sir!" a lot. Then he hands the phone back to me but before he can say the Admiral wants to talk to me, I turn the phone off. Bull looks at me like I'm crazy. Me crazy? Ha! I'm not the one who's gonna spend time in the brig for disobeying a direct order.

"The Admiral says we have to turn around and go home and under no circumstances are you to drive the Hummer," Bull announces, looking for the nearest exist.

"Grrrmmphs!"

The dogs whine. They're primed for McDonald's and so am I.

"No sewing machine, no burgers," I tell him. "No sewing machine, no onion rings, no milkshakes, no key lime pie when we get home and I'll tell him you let me drive the Hummer!"

"Okay," he agrees.

Boy! That was easy! The woman who gets this guy has it made! Hmmm, wonder if he owns any credit cards?

So we ask directions to the golden arches and voila! There's the sewing machine repair shop. My machine has had major surgery, all parts are humming along and I'm happy as a lark. We all head toward the smell of burgers.

Oh happy day!

I order 2 burgers for me, 8 double burgers for the pups and ask Bull how many he wants. He doesn't know but starts with 4 orders of double burgers. The pups and I only eat the meat - not the other stuff 'cause we like to leave room for onion rings and we eat those until we can't eat any more and Bull eats more than all of us combined... I generally get 1 order of fries for BullyBoy, the mastiff; he likes them with his onion rings. SweetPea, the rottweiler, and I are not that fond of fries.

Bull leans down to look at BullyBoy's fries and the mastiff wags his tail and smiles, showing his pearly whites. That means "This is mine. Don't make me bite you." Bull orders his own fries - 4 orders. One milkshake for me; one for each pup and one for each of Bull's hands... I won't tell you how much that meal cost but let's just say, it helped pay somebody's mortgage that month.

Pleasantly full, we head for home and I get a brainstorm. "How about I drive?" I suggest sweetly. "You're probably tired from all that chewing."

Did I mention this guy is easy?

"Sure," he says. "Just don't tell the Admiral."

Well... duh!

So I'm behind the wheel of this humongous vehicle and sitting tall and it feels like I'm driving a Sherman tank and I'm on top of the world! "Hoo Yah!" I yell and start singing "On Top of Old Smokey!"

Bull gives me a look that defies description and then starts laughing when he sees that my pups have their paws over their ears. Okay, so I can't sing and the noise I make hurts their ears. Just for that I ought to eat all the key lime pie without him!

"Can you sing?" I ask the uncouthful fellow.

"Yep," he smiles.

"Show me!" I order in my best imitation of the squid.

The big grizzly hums for a sec and then starts to sing... "When I Fall In Love" and I am stunned. He *CAN* sing! I promise him all the pie he can eat if he'll keep singing. I even slow down to 65 mph... He sang a bunch of songs; even the pups were impressed and then he sang "Amazing Grace" and I almost burst into tears, it was soooo good.

I am looking at this behemoth in a whole new light. I'm going to ask His Holiness if I can keep him.

We get home without killing or maiming anyone and Bull promises to make arrangements to get my car fixed. There's no hope of getting it back without the squid knowing but that's the least of my worries.

My nemesis, David, is standing in the driveway!

The big lug arches a brow when he sees me in the driver's seat and when I open the door, he pulls me out and holds me *in the air* in front of him.

"Camel spit! Put me down!"

"Did Cowboy say you could drive?" he asks in the same somber tone as a judge pronouncing a life sentence without a chance of parole."

"I didn't know I needed permission!" I hiss, trying to kick him but his arms are longer than my legs and I'm dangling in space.

"Ummm, Sar..." Bull begins.

"Be quiet, Bull," I tell him, keeping my eyes on General Piss-Ant!

"Yes, ma'am," he says and waits for David to growl at him. Surprisingly, the jarhead laughs.

"You're in for it now, SweetCheeks," he laughs. "What else did you do that the squid is gonna be unhappy about?"

Needless to say, there was no reason to volunteer details... David ushers me into the house like I was an escaped felon.

Bull carries my sewing machine upstairs to my studio and I show him how to fit it into the sewing table. I'm anxious to test it out but Bull's stomach is growling. The mammoth... er... big man ate enough to feed a 5th grade class of growing boys but he's hungry again. I am dying to see what his mama looks like.

I nuke a 11"x13" baking pan of stuffed shells to tie him over until I finish baking a half-baked pecan pie that was in the freezer. I'm also going to make fried ice cream to go with it because... well... it's a small reward - the squid is gonna get in his face for taking me on that 100-mile round trip to get my sewing machine.

David wants to know what I'm going to make for him to eat. Ha! Steamed broccoli if he's lucky.

I ignore him but Bull can't ignore him. David outranks Bull; they're both marines and something about "the few, the something or other, the marines." They "semper fi" all over the place; it's enough to make me give up Twinkies.

I ask Bull if he knows what the word "marine" stands for. "What do you mean?" he asks. I try not to smirk.

"M - a - r - i - n - e = Muscles are required; intelligence not essential."

David aims a large paw... er... hand... toward my bottom. I scoot behind Bull.

"You don't think I'm smart?" Bull asks as he turns around to face me with a little-boy look on his face.

"Um... well... I was just being... um... Did I hurt your feelings?" I ask because he really is a sweet guy.

"Nawww," he laughs as he swings me up in the air. "I've heard that dozens of times."

Then he hands me over to David!! I'm going to get even if it kills me!

David laughs as he holds me over his head. "Semper Fi, SweetCheeks," he chortles.

I've mentioned this before; Marines should not chortle! I threatened to hurl so the uncouth jarhead put me down.

Bull takes the stuffed shells out of the microwave and sits at the kitchen table, prepared to enjoy it. David gives him a look and Bull pushes the baking dish toward the middle of the table so they can share it. Rank does have its privileges!

I'm in the middle of making the fried ice cream when Bull's cell phone rings. I hear him say, "yes, sir" and I know he's talking to the squid. David takes the phone and rats on me.

"She what?" I hear Cowboy shout.

David laughs and hands me the phone. "Your lord and master wants to talk to you, SweetCheeks."

Well, I don't know about you but *I* don't have a lord and master so I put the phone to the mastiff's ear. The dog listens, his ears twitch and he growls.

"SarAdora!" I hear the squid yell.

Tsk. How many times have I told him not to yell at my puppies? It only makes them unhappy and it doesn't correct behavior... sort of like me. Oops.

"When I get home," he continues to yell.

I abhor bad telephone manners so I hung up, whistled for the dogs and high-tailed it over to a neighbor's house. Cowboy is due home in a few hours. Pray for me.

~~~

It's early evening and I'm visiting my neighbor, MsKeptWoman, when I see a Navy limo drive by.

Uh-oh!

I mention this to Lady Chatterly and she suggests wine. The theory here is that I'm not much of a wine drinker and if I have enough, I'll be pie-eyed and numb and whatever "discussion" Cowboy decides to have with me, I'll be so out of it, it won't be as bad as it could be.

I give this a lot of consideration but I'm certain the squid's memory is good enough that he'll wait until I'm sober again. Okay, what else can we do?

"I can always strip," MsEverReady says. "That should distract him."

Ummm... sure, but before we can plan where and when she's gonna do this, the doorbell rings. Voila! It's my nosy neighbor, MsHairUpHerAss, and she's got a smug look on her face. The pups growl; they don't like her any more than I do.

Lady Chatterly answers the door and asks the harridan... er... woman... what she wants.

"Cowboy is looking for Sar," she gloats. "And I told him she's here!"

I can't repeat what Lady Chatterly said but she associated the woman with the wrong end of a camel clearing its intestinal tract. Tsk. I vow then and there to let the pups water MsHairUpHerAss' wisteria and fertilize her rhododendrons.

~ sigh ~ Here comes Cowboy... walking up the driveway and the look on his face is not nearly as nice as it is when he's loving me.

My pups automatically stand in front of me waiting for the command to knock the squid down, sit on his chest and drown him in slobber. The last time I did that, Cowboy was still in uniform and I think there's a slobber stain on his lapel that the dry cleaners couldn't remove. I knew that slobber was lethal. It certainly led to a hand-to-butt discussion that I remember in vivid detail!

But he's in civvies right now... washable ones. I signal the dogs; they rush into action and jump the squid. He yells.

"SarAdora!"

Sheesh! I'm only standing a few feet away. He didn't have to shout. I think this constitutes behavior unbecoming an officer and I'd tell him that except... this might be a good time to be elsewhere... fast!

"When I get my hands on you!"

Wellll, I don't need any more incentive than that! I rush out the back door of MsKeptWoman's house, hop her fence and run into a *brick* wall! Bull! That man has no sense of loyalty! Just because Cowboy pays his salary is no reason to be disloyal to me! I tell him so and he says he's sorry but Cowboy outranks him. Sheesh! Everybody outranks him!

"If you turn me over to the squid, so help me..." I threaten in my most menacing voice.

"Sar..." he protests as he holds me around the waist UNDER his arm. I am sputtering obscenities. "Camel spit! Baboon butthead! PISSSSS ANT!" The man laughs! He is totally lacking in couth and I tell him so.

"Sar, I love you," the behemoth chortles, "but I work for the Admiral."

"Sooooo? What's that got to do with anything and furthermore, didn't I mention that marines should *not* chortle?"

Before I can think of other ugly things to say to the pre-historic beast, he's handing me over to a squid that has slobber allllll over his chest. Tsk.

"Cowboy?"

"Yes, my love?" the giant squid asks with a smile, my pups jumping to kiss me.

"Put me down."

"Nope."

"It's in your best interest to put me down," I say as calmly as one can when hoisted over the shoulder of a determined man.

"Why is that?" he asks as he heads toward our house, Bull bringing up the rear.

"Because I am going to signal the dogs to bite you," I say matter-of-factly, "and also because Ms.HairUpHerAss is laughing."

Cowboy turns toward the harridan and arches a brow. "I never leave witnesses," he says softly. She rushes toward her house, waddling quickly.

"What did you say to Bull to make him drive you down to pick up your sewing machine?"

"Nothing."

"Sar, I told you not to wander too far from home. Why did you disobey me?"

Disobey him? I'm supposed to obey him? Since *when*?

"I'm *not* one of your subordinates. I *don't* take orders!"

"No, you don't," he chuckles. "What was I thinking?" His laughter rings out and when I'm hanging upside down over his shoulder, I can feel his whole body shake with his mirth. In addition to the philosophy that marines should not chortle, let me add that sailors should not be soooo smug as to laugh at a time like this. I tell him that.

"Bambina, I love you, but you're not getting away with this. I told you not to wander away from home because you're still coughing. I wanted you to rest. You didn't rest."

"Being over your shoulder doesn't help," I argue. "And I would have rested when I got home but David ratted on me and..."

"And you also drove the Humvee," he slips that detail in without missing a beat. "And I specifically told Bull you were *not* to do that."

"Why shouldn't I drive the Humvee?" I ask as we approach our door. "It's just another car." That statement makes Bull snort but the jarhead is at least smart enough to remain silent.

"It's *not* just another car," Cowboy replies as he heads up the stairs to our bedroom, gesturing to Bull that he not follow us and also ignoring the chuckling idiot... er... marine... who is standing in our entryway. I shoot David one of those Italian mafioso arm thingies and for some reason, he seems to think that is hilarious. I wonder if I did it right? Hmmm.

"When *you're* behind the wheel," Cowboy continues to lecture. "The Humvee is a lethal weapon."

"Wh-a-a-a-t??" I yell. "I didn't drive over 65 miles per hour! And... I even signaled when I changed lanes!" Did I mention this man has no couth?

"Uh-huh," he agrees, sitting on the bed and pulling me upright onto his lap.

"What did you say to Bull that made him disobey a direct order, Sar?"

"Ummm... you're not gonna be mad at him, are you?"

Cowboy arches that damn brow again. "Should I be?" he asks.

Uh-oh! This is a loaded question. If I say yes, Bull will wish he never met me by the time the squid rolls him over the coals. If I say no, I'll be sleeping on my tummy till the New Year. Hmmm.

"Please don't be angry with Bull," the only words I can come up with.

"Why not?" the heathen asks.

Now, I'm losing my patience...

"Don't you *dare* be angry with that sweet man! And don't you *dare* spank me for this!"

"Oso I dare," Cowboy says quietly, much too quietly. "I was worried about you; you pushed your limits and you'll pay the price."

And with that missile fired, I didn't even have a chance to protest further or wiggle free! Suddenly, I was over his knees and bottom bared.

"You're a piss ant *and* an octopus!" I yell. I'm sure being called an octopus is far worse than being called a squid! I also think that it is totally uncouthful to laugh while spanking your wife.

"I'll get even," I warn as he warms my butt to boiling temperature. Jeez! I think you could fry eggs!

"Christ on a clamshell!" I groan. "You're hurting me!"

"Are you going to disobey again?" the wretch asks as he lands a heavy swat right across both cheeks.

"YES!" I yell. "I don't take orders! And you can go straight to hell if you think I'm going to start taking them now!"

Cowboy bursts into laughter and pulls me up into his arms. "Bambina," he laughs. "Your honesty at a time like this astounds me! Diavolo piccola, la mia diavolo piccola bellezza Little devil, my beautiful little devil.  Lascilo amarlo, bambina Let me love you, baby.

"No," I am adamant. Got spanked for absolutely *no* reason and I'm entitled to be angry about this. I push him away.

"Devo amarlo I need to love you,  he whispers in my ear, his hands rubbing my sore bottom. "Sto andando amalo I'm going to love you,  he adds as he stands, holding me with one arm and divesting himself of his clothes with the other.

"Cowboy, you're a piss ant!" I tell him when we're both in our birthday suits and his arms are around me and his hands are... um... doing wonderful things.

"I know," he murmurs. "And I'm the bully who burns your beautiful butt..." His hand is rubbing my sore bottom, fingertips dancing a trail to other sensitive parts. "And a tyrant and shark bait and a beast and..." His mouth has joined the teasing prelude to fulfillment, his seductive tactics illegal in most countries... "This beast love you," he adds as the band plays on.

~ sigh ~

In the aftermath of our loving, I ask him if he'll say ugly things to Bull. He assures me he won't except to warn him that I'm devious and manipulative and used to getting my way.

Whew! For a moment, I was worried but compliments like that... well, I can't complain. As for David... I'm going to send his picture to "Queer Eye for the Straight Guy" television show and include a note letting them know that he swings both ways. This would make such an interesting article in "The Navy Times." I know David will appreciate the publicity and the attention, especially if I include his email addy and his yahoo messenger ID.

And I finally know what to get him for his birthday - May 15 - although I'm torn between getting him the book about men with sexual dysfunction or the one on accepting premature ejaculation as a way of life. Regardless, I sincerely hope he *chortles* when he reads the titles.

As for Bull... I need to teach him a lesson in loyalty. The behemoth likes to eat... time to bake more brownies.

Grumble... moan... whine... complain!

~Sar~

~ End ~

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