I'm a Lady...
by saradora
~~~~~~~

I *am* a lady. It's just that once in a while, I have to forget that little fact and do what I have to do...

It's... um... one of those things... one of those inevitable, universal things... you know? Like the rites of spring... like the sun rises every day regardless... the dogs always have to go out to pee... the squid flosses regularly. ~sigh~ See what happens when you're toilet trained far too early in life... Where was I?

Oh yes, inevitable universals... I can always count on Cowboy to tell me to behave when he leaves for the day... I can repeat his *green* lecture - word for word - "You better eat something green today, Sar, or I'll know the reason why! You can *not* live on chocolate and burgers and onion rings! Did you hear me?"

Yessss, and so did everyone within a fifty-mile radius.

I *do* eat something green every day although I'm getting tired of kiwi, honeydew melon, Spanish olives, pistachio nuts and pickles. Think it might be time to load up on green mint, chocolate chip ice cream, green M&Ms and apple green jellybeans.

Regardless... I've been living on the Navy base for a few weeks and the stress of being away from home is getting harder to deal with. I have tried to stay out of trouble... but... um... it seems I'm a magnet for it. I know. I know. You're as shocked as I am. ~sigh~

For some reason I cannot fathom, the teenagers on the base are attracted to me. At first, I thought they just liked the idea that I have two large dogs with me all the time, but I soon discovered they thought I was one of them. Of course, I took that as a compliment. I mean, teenagers that want to "hang" with me day in and day out... must know something, don't they? That was pure rhetoric; please don't bother to answer. It doesn't hurt that my pockets are always filled with chocolate... They gravitate toward me right after school... every day... Shouldn't teachers give them enough homework to keep them busy?

Since hanging with the kids, I have exchanged a few skills with them. I taught them how to climb trees; they taught me how to pick locks. I taught them how to write with three pencils in one hand; they taught me how to forge almost anyone's signature. I was already pretty good at forging the squid's, but truly, one should not underestimate the value of having several signatures in one's repertoire.

I taught them how to play dirty scrabble... they taught me some word combinations that made my eyes go wide. Wellllll, they are the sons and daughters of sailors... and marines.

I taught them that 'tis better to beg forgiveness than to ask for permission. They taught me how to hot-wire a jeep and a humvee.

I introduced them to Billy Shakespeare; they introduced me to some noisy punk rock group that gyrates so wildly while performing that I was amazed their pants didn't fall off.

I introduced them to some of the finer things in life: Vernor's barrel aged ginger ale, Ghiradelli chocolate, Little Debbie oatmeal cookies, egg cremes, Zero bars ~swoon~ and fried ice cream. They introduced me to red licorice, pizza bread sandwiches and a chocolate and ice cream dessert that should put most human beings into a diabetic coma.

Their parents have warned them to behave around me and Cowboy has warned me not to corrupt them... Honestly, the man has *no* couth!

The teens and I are in agreement that macaroni and cheese and cold milk make a great lunch and we made tons of it and had a contest one afternoon to see who could eat the most. All of us were too full to eat dinner and inevitably, decided we should have more eating contests.

We didn't get caught raiding the commissary kitchen... knew that "lock picking" skill would come in handy - but we sure did enjoy the Key Lime pies, apple tarts, and blueberry strudel that we found. Cowboy was most suspicious... did I mention he's anal retentive? And he asked if I had single-handedly picked that lock. In all truthfulness, I could say I had not. After all, I had help... but I know better than to volunteer information that hasn't been asked.

The event that got me into trouble had nothing to do with the teenagers. In the spirit of living life to its fullest... I bought a few water guns, filled them, and practiced and practiced and practiced two-handed. My, my, my... water guns have gone high-tech since I was a kid... Sat on a branch on the tree just outside the building where Cowboy works... waiting for him to exit... and when he was within firing range, aimed and fired. One gun was filled with red finger paint, and the other with water so the paint would sort of run... Cowboy was in sweats 'cause it was Saturday and he was going for an afternoon jog before going back to work. Everything was washable... No one was around to witness this "rite of spring," or so I thought.

Unfortunately... someone called his name... he turned aside just as I fired both water pistols... and I hit the base commandant who was walking behind him... he was in khakis. I was in deep doo-doo.

"Sar!"

You know... it's a sad state of affairs when Cowboy automatically assumes I'm at fault when something like this happens.

"SarAdora!"

Bummer! He used my full name!

"Get out of that tree now!"

"I was aiming for *you,* not him," I protested, as if that would explain everything and His Holiness would feel inclined to grant me absolution.

"Sarrrrrr....."

"Um... I apologize for missing you," I said with great contrition and then realized it was all his fault that I missed. I mean... if he hadn't moved... I wouldn't have hit ole what's his name. So I told him... in case he didn't know it was his fault and not mine.

"Sarrrrr....." was his response. Jeez!

"Wh-a-a-at?" I swear... some men are so obtuse... I'll never understand their lack of logic. It's so simple. If he hadn't moved, I would have hit him, not the commandant... ~sigh~

"Get down out of that tree. Don't make me come up there and get you, imp."

"You want a piece of me, mister?" I growled in my best Joe Pesci voice.

"Sar..." he said just soft enough for me to hear him.

Ut-oh...

"Get down here... now!"

"You want me? Come and get me," I said boldly, aiming my guns at him.

"Never aim a gun you don't intend to shoot, baby," he reminded me as he proceeded to climb the tree.

I did intend to shoot but couldn't hold onto the pistols and scurry down the tree at the same time so I had to drop them. The long arms of a very stubborn SeAL caught me; I reminded him he was anal retentive. He reminded me that it had been a while since I had enjoyed a serious discussion with his large hand. I apologized to the commandant who only shook his head at me and gave Cowboy his sincere sympathies... and suggested a good sound spanking might be in order. If I was his wife, etc. Ha! Scratching that man's name off my Christmas card list. I know you're wondering where Wonder Woman was all this time. She took one look at the base commandant covered in red finger paint and fell down laughing. Tsk.

I suppose it could have been worse. His Holiness could have forced Brussels sprouts down my throat. As it was, he kept a tight hand on my arm until we returned to our temporary quarters, saying little until the door was firmly locked behind us.

"Cowboy..." I began.

"Sar..." he said softly and then burst into laughter. "I am so angry with you, young lady!" He bent over laughing while I stood there perplexed. "The look on the commandant's face!" he gasped. "Good shot, bambina! You must have practiced!"

Whew!

"Wow! I thought you were going to spank me for this," I said with great relief... short-lived relief.

"I *am* going to spank you for this," he chuckled and caught me up in his arms. "But it was a really good shot."

Did I mention his total lack of couth...?

"But... but..."

"Just *your* butt, baby," the wretch continued to laugh and making sure the dogs weren't able to rescue me, flipped me over his lap, bared my ivory cheeks and let his hand continue the discussion. Fortunately, he was laughing a little too hard for a really serious hand-to-butt discussion but it stung anyway. And since it's really his fault that I missed, I'm not sharing my chocolate Easter bunnies with him... As for the jelly beans, well... he can have the black ones 'cause I already ate all the others. I mean... after all, I *am* a lady.

~sar~

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