Another Wild Night With Mr And Mrs Smith
- 1 year ago
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“HERE’S YOUR COFFEE, MR. SMITH. It’s time to get up and do office things. You know ... Ack! There’s a woman in your bed!” Mattie screamed.
“Thank you for the coffee, Ms. Baines. Could you bring a cup for Mr. Smith, too? Oh, I’m Dr. Mrs. Smith.” Elizabeth took the cup from Mattie and offered her hand to shake. Mattie took it uncertainly.
“Isn’t everyone?” she mumbled and fled from the room.
“So?” Elizabeth asked, poking Ramsey in the ribs. “There are other Mrs. Smiths?”
“No, dear. She was obviously referring to the Smith MIBs. Mr. and Ms. Smith. Or Colonel Smythe. Just wait until she finds out the lieutenant’s name,” I said.
“I know Smith is the most common surname in America, but I didn’t think this was going to become a family reunion,” Elizabeth sighed. “Mr. Smith, Ms. Smith, Colonel Smythe, Lieutenant Smith, Dr. Smith, and Ramsey Smith? Really?”
“Excuse me? Here’s a second cup of coffee. Is Mr. Adams’ wife here, too?”
“Yes, she is. There are a couple of other rooms occupied as well. The general and his aide and their hooker are camped out somewhere,” I said pushing myself up enough to take the coffee. Mattie’s eyes popped open wide and she ran from the bedroom again. “I wonder what she’s doing here? I thought everyone in Washington was on vacation this week.”
“Ramsey? I want a baby,” Elizabeth whined.
“Do you think I’m going to agree to you mating with Jack?” I huffed.
“No, of course not. I talked to Dr. Simpson this week and he thinks he’s near a breakthrough on his sperm invigorator. You could start taking it as part of his pilot group. Just a tablespoon a day.”
“Absolutely not. Who ever thought that old quack would have turned into a snake oil salesman? Do you know how many health food stores and vitamin shops are selling supplements to revive the sperm? And not one of them works. Not one shred of evidence. Face it, Elizabeth. Even if by some miracle a sperm was lively enough to catch one of your evasive eggs, he’d be alone! Everybody else would be older and ... even Lily would be older. I don’t want to bring a child into this bleak world only to know that one day he’d die alone.”
I got out of bed and took my coffee to the bathroom and started the shower.
Damn it! Doesn’t she know I want a child as much as she does?
Reba Watkins had returned to her maiden name, Dean, when she was divorced. She’d moved back home with Daddy even though she still owned the house he’d given her and Sam. But Daddy pampered her in every way possible. When she told him she wanted a baby and that he would be a grandfather, he was all behind the idea. He wasn’t so sure things would work out as well when Reba and Sam split. Sam had even quit his job at the company and that was a real loss. But when SD Day was revealed (Sperm Death Day), Reba went into overdrive to find a way to become pregnant. She wanted a baby in the worst way and that was likely the way she would get one.
“How do I look, Daddy?” Reba asked at breakfast. Mr. Dean looked up from his newspaper. His daughter was ... a redhead.
“When did you do that?” he asked, shocked.
“Last night. I’m going to Washington, DC and get one of those redhead babies.”
“Dyeing your hair won’t make the baby a redhead,” Mr. Dean sighed. Another of his daughter’s crazy ideas. Besides, she needed live sperm to get pregnant and everyone knew the only man with live sperm in the country was that red-haired toothpick... “You’re going to try to seduce Mr. Adams?” Dean couldn’t believe the audacity of his daughter.
“Got it in one, Daddy. Did you see the pictures of his daughter? Redhead. His wife? Redhead. I’ve finally figured out that he only likes redheads. All I need to do is walk in and direct my womanly charms at him and he’ll be mine. I even dyed my pubic hair red so he won’t discover I’m really blonde.”
“I have a feeling he’ll figure that out,” Dean muttered under his breath. “When are you off on this adventure?”
“I have a flight this afternoon. Like, can I have some money?”
“Of course, sweetheart. Take what you need from my wallet on your way out.” Dean knew she’d take it all. That’s why he never kept more than a couple thousand dollars in that wallet. And credit cards she could sign on. It kept the expenses down.
“Reba Smith?” the TSA agent asked looking at her ticket. He was jetlagged, having flown from Chicago just in time to start his new job in Los Angeles. This airport was busy and he’d needed a job, even though he could scarcely keep his eyes open. “ID, please.” She handed him her driver’s license. He looked up at her.
“It’s real,” she said.
“It says, ‘Fake ID for entertainment purposes only.’ This can’t be real.”
“Of course it is. They all say that.”
“They do?”
“Who would put the words ‘Fake ID’ on a fake ID? It doesn’t make sense. If it were fake it would say something like ‘Real ID’ or ‘Genuine ID’ or ‘THE ID,’ you know, like the names people use on Twitter.” Reba smiled at him with her brilliant white teeth. The contrast with her red hair hurt his eyes. He’d never seen a redhead who was so tan. He looked at the ID and the ticket again. They matched. And he was certain it wasn’t a fake ticket, so the ID must be real as well. California sure did things strangely. He handed them back to the woman and waved her through.
Back at Blair House, Colonel Smythe was gratefully sipping on a Bloody Mary and trying to remember what happened the night before. And where the sexy young woman sitting on his knee had come from.
“I think someone slipped something into my drinks yesterday,” the colonel said. “I just don’t remember what I did.”
“Oh dear,” Kitty said as she snuggled up to him. “Should we take you to the hospital and ask for a rape kit? I don’t know where they stick the speculum in a guy.” Smythe twitched involuntarily.
Lieutenant Smith yawned and snapped another picture of the couple. He sent it to me. From his angle, the picture showed the colonel’s hand under Kitty’s short blouse. I had quite a library of interesting photos now. It seemed Kitty and the lieutenant had been conspiring all day yesterday. It was obvious why now. I didn’t think we’d have any more problems with the colonel.
“Mattie, it appears we’ll have quite a family here for Thanksgiving dinner,” I said. “See if you can arrange for a full traditional dinner on Thursday. You have the dining room occupied, so unless you move your office to the conference room, we’ll have to eat in the main dining room on the first floor.”
“Yes, Mr. Smith. How many should I tell them to expect?”
“There are nine of us here right now. You’ll be joining us, of course, won’t you?”
“If ... If you want me to, sir.”
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“HE’S OUT OF THE WOODS,” the doctor said. Hamilton, I think his name was. My injury was minor. Half a dozen stitches and a bandage on my arm. I couldn’t even reasonably call in sick to work. Not that I had a job. “What was the damage?” I asked. Dr. Hamilton frowned. “I guess you are officially his guardian, so I’ll tell you.” He looked around to make sure no one was nearby and lowered his voice. “She managed to slice off one of his testicles. The other has a small cut. There was a lot of...
I FILED A STORY Tuesday morning to follow up on the attack on Jack Adams. I listed Jack as “Recovering at an undisclosed location.” The speed of our relocation left the rest of the press in the dust. Of course, it wouldn’t take many more visits by Colonel Smythe, Kitty Muffley, Lieutenant Smith, or the Smith MIBs for people to surmise that Jack was living with the Smiths in Orlando. “Just say Jack is in a secure location which is only available on a need to know basis. He is being attended...
WITH JACK OUT OF WASHINGTON, life seemed to go back to normal. The stock market recovered. The protests died down. The size of SORDID, now that it had no ‘specimen’ to manage, doubled. “With everyone going about life as if it was going to go on forever, you’d think people must be having babies again. Any word on that, Mattie?” “A report from Russia claims they have found a virile man who lived in a remote area of Siberia. There has been no confirmation and the whereabouts of the man are...
THE COLONEL’S NEW YEAR’S EVE PARTY drew more people to our house than the Christmas party had. I constantly expected protesters to show up in front of the house because so many people knew Jack, Evelyn, and Lily were in residence there. But while it was common knowledge in the neighborhood, it seemed to be a tacit secret elsewhere. By the end of the party, there was another stack of gifts for Lily under the Christmas tree. It was like the entire community was bringing gifts to the manger...
THE LEAST UPSET PERSON in the house was Lily. Put a nipple in her mouth and she was happy. Evelyn was surprisingly calm, sitting in a corner of the living room with Lily. When the SORDID Chief of Staff and his ... staff left, there were still eleven people left in the house. Mattie emerged from the basement office and went to the bar where she began mixing Bloody Marys. Sheila went to help her. “Ugh! Not for me,” Elizabeth said. “I think I caught a bug from my students. Not even a month back...