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

Deck and Amy and the Charity Event

Charity events involving caterers walking around with trays of fancy cheeses and grilled vegetables on weird looking crackers were well outside Deck and Amy’s comfort zones.  An obligation to a friend from college, a need for a tax write off, and the promise of free drinks changed backed them into a corner; their attendance was mandatory.

One and a half hours into the evening’s golf and drinks event, Deck and Amy failed to notice the small crowd gathering around them.  They were far too busy to notice anything so trivial as on-lookers, lookie-loos, and rubber neckers.

“What do you mean there’s no fancy lights or smoking volcano when you finally sink the final putt?” Deck asked, flippant and over-dramatic.  From his cell phone, volume maxed, sounds of fireworks and celebratory trumpet fanfare rang out.

“What sort of a golf course is this?” Amy added.  Continue reading

Deck and Amy and the Visit

kitchen
Art.

“Kitchen looks great. Thanks,” said an appreciative Deck as he entered the room.  “Wait. Why is the kitchen so clean?” His appreciation gave way to fear.  He knew what this level of clean  meant.

Amy, from the other side of the kitchen, turned to stare with wide, anxious at her husband, her yellow rubber gloved hands wrapped around a mop, and said words she that caused dread on the brightest of days, “my parents are coming.” Continue reading

Deck and Amy and the Theater

“Ladies and gentlemen, please enjoy a fifteen minute intermission,” the theater’s loudspeakers informed the audience.

Deck and Amy bolted up from their seats.  Programs fell to the floor before the house lights even warmed enough to be bright.  The two exchanged a quick, knowing glance; it was a game time.

They intertwined their fingers and raced to the lobby for a quick concession trip and to make one last appearance before their friends also attending the performance.  Deck and Amy had no intention of staying for acts two or three; they were going to put on fake smiles, compliment the orchestra’s skill, the lead’s range and the depth of story, then say, “enjoy the rest of the show, we’ll chat soon” and run to the parking lot. Continue reading