Deck and Amy and the Long Weekend

“You know how I have a pretty tough time saying no when people request things from me?” Amy said.

Deck stopped sipping his coffee, put his paperback on the table beside his chair and looked at Amy wondering exactly what she had done.

“Good, you remember,” Amy said.  She moved to the couch to sit next to Deck.

“Well,” she continued, “we’re going to be house sitting for Mark and Cayla from work this weekend.  They’re going to Baton Rouge and think their dogs will have a tough time at a doggy daycare for three days.”

“That sounds awful,” Deck said.

“It does.  We need to think up ways to make it suck less,” Amy said.

“We could not do it,” Deck suggested.

“Too late for that,” Amy countered, “next?”

“We could pay someone else to take care of it,” Deck was already pulling out his credit card.

“What if we put it on AirBnB? We make bank and someone else is there!” Amy said, giddily clapping.

“We turn it into a haunted house outside of Halloween season. Hipsters will love it,” Deck rambled.

“We paint that snake symbol from Harry Potter on the ceiling and don’t say a word unless prompted,” Amy said.

“We take up the carpet, draw every symbol from Supernatural underneath it and put it back,” Deck said.

“Behind every framed photo or piece of art, we write a seven letter Scrabble word,” Amy rattled off.

Both lost themselves to laughter plotting and pondering how to make a house sitting weekend be less awful. The suggestions flew for another five minutes growing more and more outrageous with every word.  Finally, Amy had had enough.

“We’re going to sit in their house and order pizzas all weekend, right?” Amy asked.

“Oh, that’s a given. Could you imagine actually not doing this to the best of our ability?” Deck said, panic in his voice.

“We’d have to move,” Amy said.




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Deck and Amy and the Retort

Stranger Things played in the background.  Deck and Amy had to rewatch season one before getting all worked up over Barb’s absence from season two.

As episodes rolled by, both partners typed away at their laptops.  Various tasks were completed; social sites were updated, worksheets filled out, Buzzfeed inexplicably browsed for over an hour.  All the while, the two sat in comfortable silence, simply enjoying being near one another after trying weeks at work.

The comfortable silence came to a swift end with Deck muttering, “ah man” under his breath.

“What?” Amy asked.

“I only just now thought of the best reply to a joke my boss made earlier,” Deck answered.

“I read that you’re only supposed to think about interactions gone awry for, like, seven seconds,” Amy said from behind her laptop screen.

Deck laughed, “yeah, I don’t think that will ever happen.  Seven seconds, 48 hours and then once ten years later and monthly thereafter is more realistic.”

“What was your reply?’ Amy wondered.

“I was thinking, ‘like a fox!’ It really fit the moment,” Deck said.

“What was the joke?” Amy asked.

“I honestly don’t even remember.  My reply was perfect though,” Deck continued typing.



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Deck and Amy and the Order

“I’ll order, you find a table.” Deck said, sounding more confident than he felt in this situation.  Amy gave an questioning look, knowing he was far from confident in the task at hand.

“You sure?” She asked.

“Yeah, I’ve got this. Burgers, drinks, fresh fries. What’s so hard?” Deck countered.

“They’re called French Fries,” Amy pointed out.

“That’s what I said,” Deck said, waving her to the seating area.  “I’ll be there in a jiffy.”

“Jiffy?” Amy teased the word choice.

Deck stood in line and watched order after order be taken.  The smell of deliciousness filled the hole-in-wall restaurant.  A morning of errand running had resulted an appetite that would either lead to “hangry” conversation with Amy or him collapsing on the cold sidewalk.  He hoped the others in line would excuse his drooling, but surmised they were likely unaware of his situation.  He was good with that.

Finally, his turn at the counter arrived.

“Hi, what can I get for you today?” The peppy cashier asked.

“I would like a Number Taco,” Deck said.  Six words in and he had ruined everything.  He shook his head.  “I am so sorry.  One Lumber Ton,” he again flubbed the line.  “I am so, so sorry.  I was in way over my head in this one.  I’m going to send my wife in to finish up the inning.  Calling in the lefty!” Deck joked.

He ran from the counter and found Amy.  “I have made a terrible mistake and we need to go somewhere else before we are allowed nowhere else, okay?”

Amy, having been in this situation before, gathered her coat and purse and calmly exited the restaurant.  Deck was already placing a web-order at a chain store down the street.



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Some entertainment options you may enjoy:

Lunch Hour Characters (bad art, humorously captioned)

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Deck and Amy and the Run-In

Dinner was taking place at the one restaurant in town that did not rely on loud 90s alt-rock to create an atmosphere.  As sad as Deck was to not eat a hamburger to the charming tones of Matchbox 20, he was more than pleased to actually hear what Amy was trying to tell him.

“I still can’t believe Carmichael tried to pull that crap at work,” Amy said before taking a bite of pilaf.

“I think you should probably key his car,” Deck said.

“I can’t key his ca- Wait! Oh crap,” Amy finished her bite and stared over Deck’s shoulder.  “The couple that just walked in. I used to work with him.”

Deck looked over his shoulder to try to catch a glimpse of the entry way where he presumed the subject of Amy’s statement stood.

“Don’t look, you big dummy,” Amy instructed. “What do I do? We worked in the same general area for three years. I haven’t even kept in Facebook contact though. Do I wave? Do the fake ‘Oh my god! Jerry?!” greeting on our way out?”

Deck started to offer advice. “You could-” he didn’t get very far.

“This is weird. I’m pretty sure he’s the guy who kept stealing pens too.  Should I bring that up?” Amy wondered.

“Probably good to avoid accusations of petty crime at a fish restaurant,” Deck said as he devoured a crab stuffed mushroom.

“No. Nope, you know what, we’re leaving. I’ll get boxes, we’ll go home and watch Princess Bride and never speak of this moment again,” Amy plotted.

“I know you’re freaking out right now and the newness of this type of social interaction is making you nervous, but that plan sounds awesome so I’m going to go along with it,” Deck said.

The waiter was flagged down and take-away boxes were filled.  A quick drive and a few minutes later, an ROUS was pouncing a pirate and Deck and Amy finished their meals in their pajamas on a couch.

“This was the right call,” Deck said.

Amy grimaced.  A fork in one hand, her phone in the other, she screamed a little as she read her screen.  “Another former coworker just commented on a post from Jerry, from the restaurant earlier,” Amy started.

“I do remember Jerry, yes,” Deck said.

“Jerry posted ‘Just saw an old coworker. Decided to hide instead of talk to her. Forgot her name. Think she recognized me too. #Awkward’ How could he forget my name? Jerry’s not a nice person. I’m going to comment.” Amy said.

“Now would be a good time to bring up the pen thing,” Deck said.

“Oh! That’ll cut deep too.  Nice one, sweetie,” Amy started typing.




Thanks for reading!

Some entertainment options you may enjoy:

Lunch Hour Characters (bad art, humorously captioned)

Free books

$1 Books

Mugs and Stickers and other tangible things

Facebook for videos, links and shenanigans

Deck and Amy and Tech Support

“Crap. I have no idea what the access information is.” Deck said.  He hung his head low and smashed some keys on the keyboard.

“Well, we kinda’ need to figure that out.  Can you do a password reset?” Amy asked.  She twirled a pen in her hand readying to jot down information for a trip they needed to book very, very soon.

“Tried it.  It went to an email address that hasn’t existed since before we met,” Deck said, turning to face her.

“I thought our lives didn’t start until we met?” Amy teased.

“I hate to break it to you, but there were email addresses before I knew you,” Deck said.

“Can you email them for assistance?” Amy asked.

Deck began scrolling the support page.  His face turned from sad annoyance to horrified in the blink of an eye.

“They say we have to call if password reset doesn’t work.” Deck did not know such a thing could exist in the modern world.

“Cancel the account. There are other suppliers.  Write a really mean tweet too.  This cannot stand.” Amy slammed her pen on the desk before her, pulled out her phone and opened an Expedia account.  “Calling for help.  That’s insane.”



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Deck and Amy and the Block Party

“What the heck is a block party?” Deck asked.

“It’s a gathering of neighbors.  Food is shared, drinks and spilled.  It’s a good way to meet those around us.  It’s an incredible uncomfortable and forced way to meet the people around us, but it is a way,” Amy replied.

“So if we meet these people that live around us are they less likely to call city code enforcement about the dead tree in our front yard?” Deck asked.

“Probably not, but they’ll at least be able to say the dead tree is at Deck’s house.  We have to go for a little while.  I do have a plan to get in and out. And it plays on the theme.  The 1990s.” Amy said.  A devilish grin crept over her face and the two began to discuss their plan.

The day of the block party arrived and the couple prepared for their five minute appearance.

At the end of the block smoke rose from a collection of Weber grills.  The scent of ketchup and dill pickle relish rode the breeze.  Deck and Amy were both mildly annoyed by the pop music coming from someone’s small blue tooth speaker, but they let it slide.  They were more annoyed by their own outfits. Continue reading

Deck and Amy and the Big Box Store

“We should have arrived at open,” Deck said. He clinched Amy’s hand within his and they both stared at the mob of shoppers rushing into the local Enormo-Mart electronics shop.

“I am so sorry,” Amy said, regretting the extra episodes of Fixer Upper viewed that morning.

Together, they stepped forward.  Automatic doors whooshed open.  Usually this made Deck feel like a magician, but this time…this time was different.  The automated doors felt more the teeth of a bear trap.  Children ran by the couple’s kneecaps.  The roar of tire on pavement outside gave way to a steady murmur of chattering partners discussing the virtue of HD3D Dolby 5.1 sets and why AMD and Intel are actually two different approaches to CPUs.

“How badly do you need a new computer?” Amy asked.  Her eyes were stuck open, wider than she knew they could achieve.

“It’s new computer or I stop contributing to finances,” Deck said, dodging a shopping cart. Continue reading