Deck and Amy Create a Setting

“I thought we were done with the dinner party thing?” Amy questioned, annoyed.

“I couldn’t figure out how to say no.  My new coworker is new to town, he and his wife don’t know anybody; they need a guide to this new place they call home,” Deck tried to explain.

Amy crossed her arms and her eyebrows tilted in a manner menacing and condemning all at once, “and you thought we were best suited to fit that role? You remember we once hired a person to pretend to be a ghost just to make sure a dinner party ended in time for us to watch a re-run of Battlestar Galactica, right? You remember that, don’t you?”

“I have a new plan,” Deck said.  He smiled and turned to the mysterious duffel bag sitting next to him on the coffee table.

He pulled a snow white skull of an ox from the bag and plopped it on the table.

Amy shrieked.  She had seen the skull before, but always on tv show episodes that involved being terribly lost in a desert.  “Why is that thing in my house?”

“I’m going to make our decor so unsettling no one ever wants to visit again!” Deck cackled he was so delighted with his plan.

Amy slowly gained a smile as she saw the brilliance of the plan.  “Oh em geez! That’s brilliant.  I have some ugly sweaters from my mom, I’ll hem them and we’ll put them on the dogs for the night.  I’ll boil vinegar on the stove the day before so the house will smell slightly off.  OH!” She clapped and paused, eyes so wide her entire face looked like it was being whipped by incredibly powerful wind.  “Let’s put googly eyes on the skull and surround it with fondue cheeses and other dips during dinner.”

“You’re a genius.  I married a genius.  Our binge watching will never be interrupted again once people know we eat fondue with John Quincy Adams,” Deck said.

“Wait, when did JQA get pulled into this?” Amy questioned.

“That’s the ox skull’s name,” said Deck with a wink.

“That’s so weird.  You’re amazing.” Amy said before the two got to work on making their home the last place any one would want to visit.


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