Quito. Chapter 16. Getting Home.

     Page Two Hundred Sixty-Six.
     Wanda led Quito through the tiny door in the corner and up the small steps to the outside and into the bright, yellow sunshine.
     "Oh pish-posh, I don't believe this", Quito howled while looking around. He was in the beautiful, vivid, green side yard of the three brothers, next door to his own home. This entire time he was never more than 50 yards from the safe haven of his own hacienda. No wonder the odor was so distinctive. It was the same lemon-powered cleaning product they used. Or at least they used everywhere but in their basement which we've already established is an absolute disaster.
     "Your hideout is in their basement? Didn't they know you and your gang of hoodlums were down there?
     "No they didn't. Menatally, those three are out to lunch. While they've been renovating and re-renovatng their home for all these years, they never noticed the work I've been doing to clear out one room in their basement. My gang and I excavated the small steps and emptied then cleaned out that one area of their dungeon. We did all the work at night, by the light of the silvery moon." Wanda seemed very proud of herself.
     "You know, you're really a piece of work. If you put half as much energy into being nice as you do into being a menace to society, well... just imagine all the people you could help. With all your money, brains and energy you could donate to finding cures for illnesses, you could create scholarships to help children who can't afford school, you could help feed and clothe homeless people, you could do so many things to help this planet. But what do you do? You build a secret hideout with all this bizarre equipment to transport me to a parallel universe, which, by the way, I still need to hear the story of. "  Quito just couldn't get over her nerve.
     "Look here Quito, not everybody has had the breaks you have. Some of us had to resort to trickery just to survive. Don't ever judge someone 'till you've had to walk in their leash. Okay, fine. I'll admit that maybe I'm a little too evil sometimes. But that's no reason to accuse me of not caring for others. In fact, and, I'm surprised you didn't get this while you were mind probing me, I've set up an attractive retirement pension for all my hench-poodles and everybody else who works in my dental clinics. Not only that, but also every year I give all my employees a free case of turkey burgers at Thanksgiving and a gift card for $102.73 at Sunoco at Christmas. That's a lot more than many employers give out now-a-days. I know stories of great employees who get fired or who are forced to quit jobs just prior to receiving pension eligibility only because their companies want to save money from going to retirees. I don't do that. I'm an ethical employer. Why didn't you see that while you were violating my privacy with your ESP? HUH? So don't keep going on about my ruthless ways, you judgmental mongrel. You need to come down off your high horse a little" There was lightening and thiunder in her bark.
     Wanda was furious with what she saw as a double standard and she let him know it. She was more than happy to admit when she was being an evil, female dog, but she also wanted her credit too.
     Now, it was Quito's time to feel like a bad dog. "Sorry. I apologize." But he had no sincerity in his voice at all. Seems like our furry hero had a little problem with lack of humility. He thought he was perfect.
     Then they started screaming, fighting and howling at one another.
     "Look you num-nuts..."
     "Why you gopher nose..."
     "Don't even go there, bonehead..."
     "You monkey butt, you..."
     Then, in the middle of all this loud and ridiculous name-calling, which, quite frankly, wasn't getting anybody anywhere, "Quito! There you are!!! Good dog. Good dog." It was Judd. He was standing on the beige, sandstone terrace adjacent to his breakfast room, holding an antique parfait glass full of the best-looking fruit salad on the planet. It was rainbow-colored and even from the distance he was from the dogs, they could smell the luscious sweetness. It was topped with whipped cream and that white lusciousness set off the colors of the contents beautifully.
     Both dogs bounded the 10 feet over to Judd with tongues and tales wagging, hoping for morsels and treats. They seemed to forget that they were in the middle of a blow-out. Treats do that to a dog. (And some people.)
Continued next week... Chapter 17. The Reunion.

Christmas Morning

     Page Eight.
     Only once in my life have I woken up and celebrated Christmas like a stereotypical Christian, as in: went downstairs wearing my pj's and opened up gifts with children.
     It must have been 1988. I was live-in Nanny to the Shapiros and usually they went out of town skiing for the holidays. For some reason though, that year they opted to stay home. It would be the only winter break in all the years I'd live with them that they would stay in Cleveland. (Side bar here: Dad was Jewish, hence the last name Shapiro, but Mom wasn't. The kids were not raised with any religion at all.)
     Every year they put up a beautiful Christmas tree by the fourth or fifth and I always helped them decorate, this year was no exception. We also bought each other gifts every year. But again, under normal circumstances I would exchange gifts with them after they got back from the slopes, typically around the first. And even this year, I was expecting nothing special on Christmas morning.
     I was going though a "Thing" at this point in my life. I attended midnight mass every year up at Saint Ann's Church over on Coventry Road. I must have done that every year for about a decade including '88 so I'm sure I was fast asleep by 2.AM by golly. Imagine my surprise when Scoot, one of the thirteen year old twins, appeared in my doorway at 7.AM the next day, woke me up and ordered me to get downstairs so he could open his presents. Now-a-days I could actually survive on five hours of sleep. In '88 I had to have AT LEAST nine or ten. I wasn't sure what he was talking about so he simply repeated himself, only louder and more obnoxiously, the way only a teenaged boy can do. I just wasn't expecting it.
     I ejected him from my room, equally obnoxiously I'm sure, but told him I'd be down in a few. He screamed at me to hurry. Once downstairs, coffee in hand, I gradually came to. I realized that as far as they were concerned, I was a member of the house-hold so I would, of course, join them in a traditional, old fashioned secular gift orgy. I really don't remember what I got them that year. But I do remember a couple things they got me: some rock 'n roll mags and some sunglasses with windshield wipers. I think my big gift was a gift certificate for rock concert tickets. (At the time I was one of those degenerate rock 'n roll whippersnappers.)  
     After gift exchange and breakfast, which I didn't have to make thank the baby Jesus, I went back to sleep and proceeded with my existence. But, I can always say that once in my life I actually contributed to a pre-breakfast, Christmas day legacy: creating mountains of gift wrap landfill. That memory is quite valuable to me.