Part 3

Note to self:  Look at floor before you step.  Of course, I’m referring to the toys that seem to litter the floor, making walking a dangerous game of chance.  I mean, sure, legos don’t really look all that menacing but step on one, and you’ll know that it was a probably a toy made by the devil himself.

I know cause I’m currently trying to get one of those damn things out of the bottom of my foot now.  It’s either toys or panties or God forbid… play dough, now that is a true menace to society and its something that you really don’t want to have to deal with.  Oh, and for the life of you… if it gets into your hair, like its all up in mine, well then bode my warning and don’t wet your hair to get it out.  Why?  Cause it turns into a big pile of slimy goo and will turn your hair whatever awful color its been made into.

I think my foots all right, won’t need any stitches, just a big band aid and a few days of TLC but my hair, Oh My God, what the hell am I gonna do about my hair.  It’s a little… mint colored and very slick and I probably won’t have to condition it for a couple of years and I hear that greasy look is coming back.  What to do?  What to do?

“Bubby?”  Amanda asked from beside me.

I looked back into the mirror, running my fingers through my hair, trying to figure out just when during the night, this little angel beside me, broke ranks and used me as her play table… and just where was my slayer attributes… I mean I lay there, out to the world, while she made Ronald McDonald out of my head. 

“Bubby?”  Amanda tried again to get my attention.

I kept looking at my hair in the mirror.  “Just chew your gum…. Work on blowing that bubble, okay?”  I asked, still worrying about myself.  I leaned closer to the mirror and eyed my scalp closely.  “When’s your mom coming home anyway?  She just had a doctor appointment.”  I put another dab of ‘the works’ into my mane and started working it in, again trying to get more of the slick mess out of what used to be my beautiful head of hair.  I half glanced at Amanda.  “Did you get that bubble?”

I looked back into the mirror and froze, thinking, well that doesn’t look right.  I didn’t want to look.  I closed my eyes so I wouldn’t look.  I shook my head cause I knew I had to look but didn’t want to.  Okay… I took another, longer, slower look.

“Oh hell.”  I whispered as I looked at the little girl with gum stuck all in her hair; her face black from where the gum stuck and dried. 

At that moment, right then, right now… my hair was completely forgotten and my mind was a total blank; the only thing running through it was that when Faith got back, she was literally going to kill me.

I mean, it was me who bugged the hell out of her.  I can watch her. No need to hire a sitter.  I can do it.  I can.  No problem.  Easy as pie.  Cake.  I mean really, what’s it been now?  Three days?  Three whole days and what’s happened.  I backed over her chickens but really, who needs chickens and we ate really good that day.  Okay, I kinda turned all her sheets and towels and clothes pink, okay, everybody’s clothes and stuff was pink but we were all pretty in an off color kind of way.  It’s not like I was used to doing laundry and I know she didn’t ask me to wash clothes but I just wanted to help out a bit, albeit I hindered more than helped.  I mean who knew you had to separate them and who knew there were so many piles after you actually sorted them… my way was much better.  Clean.  Dirty. 

Oh My God... and lets not forget little Amanda walking into the kitchen carrying my dildo, revving it up like an electric pickle.

I shook off my current thoughts and looked back at the child, who was looking up at me with big blue eyes and curly blonde hair, now marred with gum.   How the hell did Faith of all people have a blonde haired, blue-eyed child?  That’s just not logical.

I fingered the sticky mass of curls.  “Ice.”  I stated, lifting up the child and heading into the kitchen, instantly sitting her on the counter and getting the ice. 

And that’s what I spent the next thirty minutes doing; trying to freeze the gum so I could pull it out of her hair.  Did she scream?  Oh yeah, just like Bloody Mary.  Did I freak out?  Of course not:  What I did was get out the peanut butter and spread it over her head… cause that’s what you do for gum.  Right?  So I worked in the peanut butter and laid her on the counter and used the nozzle to rinse all the muck out of her hair. 

I was actually breathing a bit easier, cause some of it was actually coming out.  I sat her up, dried her off and examined the rest of her silky little curls.  She still had a bit of residue next to her scalp, but a little bit of precision cutting and you’d never be able to tell.  And hey, slayer here, Faith would never know. 

So I was looking through the drawers and that’s when I heard the running water, well the nozzle and I turned slowly, watching in some kind of slow motion horror facsimile or, well never mind, cause I’m not really sure what that meant.  The gist of it is was; that Amanda had procured the nozzle and was currently watering everything within reach in the kitchen. 

Of course with me being all reliable and all, I ran to her, of course I slipped in the water, sliding all the way up and crashing into the cabinet.  I mentally counted to a million and pulled myself up, automatically shutting off the water.

I dried up the water as quickly as I could and sat Amanda back up on the counter, turned, retrieved the scissors from their hiding place and got ready.  I carefully aligned the scissors to the precise location of the problem.  “Don’t move.”  I stated, well instructed actually.  Did she move?  Do I even have to ask?  Hell yeah, she moved and just as I snapped the scissors together.  Off came a huge lock of hair.  Was that the worst thing?  Of course it wasn’t; the worst thing was that it cut right at the scalp.  A whole lock!  Gone.  There was now a white circle showing where her hair used to be. 

I might as well just pack my crap and move to Malaysia or somewhere like it. If I hurried, maybe I could just pin a note to the kid, tie her to a tree and get a head start.

How in the hell did I get myself in this mess?  Oh, that’s right.  Faith got herself knocked up and had to go to the doctor, so if she hadn’t of had sex, well then all this wouldn’t be happening now.  That bitch.  It’s all her fault.

“Bubby.”  Amanda stated lowly, bringing me out of the twilight zone and back into the kitchen.

I looked down at her, waiting.  “I seepy.”  She mumbled.  I nodded and watched as she raised her little arms for me to pick her up.  Who can resist little arms wanting you to hold them?  Well I couldn’t.  I picked up the child and grimaced as her little peanut butter hands wrapped around my neck, her fingers twirling through my hair.  I took a last glance at the ruined kitchen and slowly walked into the other room, instantly heading for the overstuffed rocker. 

You know, I actually groaned when my feet left the ground.  I felt like I had run a marathon or something.  My whole body was tense, on edge and I was dreading the return of Faith but regardless of that, I found myself nestling deeper into the cushions, slowly giving into the strong pull of oblivion. 

I woke some time later, stretching, smiling at that nice, warm feeling that getting a long overdue nap can cause.  I looked around, deciding to turn on the television, figuring that I could maybe catch up on my soap opera. 

I had the feeling that I was forgetting something.  It was right there on the tip of my tongue, right there in the recesses of my head, just barely out of reach and it was slowly coming forward but then, Richard came in and caught Susanne with his brother Dominic, who’s wife was actually his half sister, who’s cousin was a MILF that he’d banged in the parking lot of the Big K, and all sense went right out of my head. 
That’s when I heard a noise upstairs.  That’s when what I’d forgotten came crashing back like the Hindenburg.  I jumped up and bolted up the stairs and into my room.  Paint.  Everywhere. 

I froze and took in the splotched paint covered room.  The walls were blotched, the windows were covered, the ceiling was splattered, the rug, the bed, my clothes, the door, the kid.

“Oh Fuck.”  I muttered.

The first thing I did was glance at the clock.  And the next thing… and I’m not proud, so don’t think I was happy to do what I did, but you just have to realize that necessity is the mother of all evil… and I needed to get things back in order and organized before Faith made it back home.  I was on the clock.  It was a race against time and I didn’t have time for this anymore.  Okay, so I glued the kids butt to the floor… but just to keep her still and in one place so I could get things back in order; not her skin, just her pants, only she was in them.  I’m not that desperate, well not yet, give me another thirty minutes and we’ll see.

So I stuck the kid in place and I used every ounce of slayer speed, elbow grease and gumption that I could muster to get the room back together.  Granted, it wasn’t as nice as it was in its original form, but I got it looking almost descent.  Well I got up all the…. Well I got the blotched stuff out and dried up what I could and slapped a coat of greenish brown paint on everything.  Hey, it wasn’t a pretty color… but it was a custom mixed color, complements of ‘Amanda.’

I was finally ready to throw the linens and clothes into the wash.  So I went to lift up Amanda and damn, she didn’t budge.  That was some really good glue.  I had to strip her out of her pants just to get her off the floor.   I actually took a minute to look at the pants that were now attached to the wood floor.  Maybe I could chisel them up later.  Oh well that’d have to wait a bit.

I carried the kid and the clothes and put them into the wash, the clothes, not the kid.  I got us a couple of juice boxes out and finally sat down, glad to rest a minute.  I watched as she sipped on the drink.  Suddenly her eyes got big and she grabbed herself and I’ll admit that I panicked.

“Hold it… hold it.”  I yelled, lifting her off the stool and down to the floor.  “Run.”  I yelled, watching as she took off towards the bathroom.  I actually laughed.  There was no need to panic, not really, guess my nerves were a bit on edge. 

I moved into the living room and relaxed back against the sofa, casually flipping through the TV Guide, surfing through the channels.  I looked out the windows, glanced at the clock again and decided to straighten up the living area.  I wanted things to look good.  Right now, appearances were pretty much all I had going for me… and that wasn’t saying a whole hell of a lot.
I started picking up the toys that littered the room. 

“Bubby!”  Amanda called from the bathroom.

“Yeah?”  I yelled back, continuing to try and make the room look presentable, unlived in.

“Come wipe me.”  She yelled.

I scrunched up my forehead, still picking up toys.  “Honey, wipe yourself.  You’re a big girl now.  You’ve got to learn how to do it.”  I threw some toys into the chest and continued walking around the room picking things up.

“Kay.”  She yelled.

I folded the afghans and draped them over the furniture neatly; straightened the magazines, put the books back onto the shelves, picked up the candy papers and juice boxes that we’d ate during our little adventure. 

I stood back, admired my work and sat down, propping my feet up on the coffee table, celebrating and relaxing at a job well done.  I closed my eyes, glad that this day was over.

“Bubby…”

I kept my eyes closed, relaxing.  “Yeah?”   I asked.

She hesitated but just slightly.  “I start my perud.”

Well that didn’t sound right.  “Perud?”  I sat up running that word through my brain.  “Perud.”  Then a word fell into the big puzzle.  “Period?”  I turned and looked at the child.  “You got your period?”  I stated shocked, disbelieving.’

I stared at her, watching as she shook her head yes.

No fucking way.  I pushed off from the couch and walked to the bathroom with Amanda following closely behind me, her little feet keeping right up with mine.  I pushed the bathroom door open and froze.  I looked at the toilet, the tub, the walls, the shower curtain, the floor, the trashcan; all smeared with shit.   I glared at the little girl, who stood there looking oblivious.  I’m gonna kill her.  “That’s not your period.”  I almost yelled.  I pulled in my emotions, trying to calm myself down.  “That’s…. that’s …. Shit.”

I took another look at her, realizing that the bathroom wasn’t the only thing covered in poo. 

I lost it.  I admit it.  I’d met my match.  Demons, not a problem:  Vampires, dust in the wind:  Kids covered in feces, not my problem.  Okay, so maybe if I’d have wiped her, we wouldn’t be looking at a piece of painting out of the Picasso era, but still, you can’t pin this one on me.  I mean she’s how old?

“How old are you?”  I asked, to which she just kind of shrugged.

“Great.”  I muttered, as I pinched the back of her shirt and pulled her along behind me.  I hit the front entry and kept right on going, to the great fresh air outside and right up to the outside spigot.

I unwrapped the hose, stripped the kid naked, turned on the water pressure and viola; kid wash.  

So here I am, outside, spraying a naked and now screaming, squirming and fighting kid with a hose.  I’m making leeway, knocking off the brown… stuff but unfortunately not the smell.  I’ll still have to bathe her.  I hold her tighter, continuing to make sure that all the crap is coming off and that’s when she suddenly yells, or bellows would be a more accurate word.

“Mommy!” 

I turn and stare right into Faith’s face.  She doesn’t say anything, just eyes me up and down; eyes her kid.  A vast array of emotions filters through her eyes.  I can see she’s making a mental check on the kid and then she looks at me again.  Me; the one with the hose still turned on her first born.  She shakes her head, stating.  “ I don’t wanna know.”  And then she just walked into the house, leaving me outside, alone, and still holding the hose, which to be completely honest, suddenly somehow, went limp in my hands.

I walked into the house shortly after Faith entered, pulling the child behind me.  I closed the door and looked at Faith’s back as she stared into the bathroom. 

“I can explain.”  I offered.

She turned, slightly miffed.  “About what?  The bathroom covered in shit?  Or about giving my child an enema with the hose?”

Okay, so maybe I couldn’t explain and really, truthfully, I didn’t want to… but at least I wasn’t alone in the corner.  Nope, little Amanda was standing right by my side or maybe it was that I still had hold of her.  Guess maybe I was gonna use her as some kind of leverage to save my own ass.  Yep, that was pretty much it.

Faith held her hand out for Amanda, “come on, lets get you cleaned up.  I can smell you a mile off.”  I watched as Amanda went to her mama and as they slowly ascended the stairs.  They hesitated momentarily and Faith looked back at me.

“The cleaning stuff’s underneath the sink.”  She nodded and went back up the stairs.

I looked towards the bathroom, thinking of what awaited me in there.

“Shit.”

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