Post by Bannon Lewis on May 4, 2013 0:54:51 GMT -8
-Leaving Home-
"Socks, underwear, thermals, fuzzy cloak," Bannon stood over the bed with all of his adventuring equipment slowly inventorying each piece, "two ropes, stakes, pot, pen, paper, almost everburning torch, never-ending pizza, never-ending canteen, and pink-blockers." He pats the pouch at his belt, "With you, Treasure Monster, I can't think of any other big things."
"I got my bathroom kit," he adds with a scratch of his head.
The door squeaked open. A twenty-something, blonde, bombshell with her hair back in a pony tail, goggles propped against her bangs, one green eye, one blue, bazoombas that any husband would love, and some great baby making hips. She was deep into the latest engineering magazine, so she didn't see any of what her hubby was up to. Something that Bannon was very greatful for.
"Did you remember to take the crap to the curb?" She asked the question softly and without looking away from her book.
"Yes, honey," he responded lovingly.
"Thanks, spanky." She rummages through a dish on the dresser and pulls out a set of keys before heading back toward the door.
Bannon sighs audibly, but perhaps a little too soon, for as soon as he was finished expelling the breath, Lisa stops and turns around. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" Her voice was simmering with anger, but her genuine curiosity was keeping her from screaming.
Five foot eleven of dense and well toned muscles started to tense up in worry. "Well, honey, I really need to do that thing that we talked about before."
"Which thing," she asked with a raised eyebrow.
"The Santa thing."
"Oh," she said, the curiosity no longer in her voice. "I thought we had settled that. I thought we decided that you would be gone too long and that whatever Santa did, he did for a reason."
"Um," he stammered as he spoke, "I'll be back before High Summer. I've had longer trips for things that you needed, and I really need to know why."
Lisa clinched up in frustration, on the verge of unleashing a string of obscenities that she only dared in her dark room, but before it could leave her lips she reached for her pony tail and tugged on it with a sigh. As soon as she had her composure back she spoke as evenly as she could manage, "Fine, have it your way. Bannon Lewis, you are not..."
"POODLE!" Bannon shouted at her in the middle of the baleful sentence about to be uttered.
*bark* Instead of his Knocker wife there was now an angry, well groomed, miniature pink poodle yapping up at him from the doorway.
"I'm sorry, honey. I love you, but I have to do this. I'll be back as soon as I can. Please forgive me later."
Bannon threw all of his things into the backpack he had prepared and ran out the door, skirting and avoiding the little dog. He ran downstairs, hopped the banister, ruffled his sons hair, picked up and swung around his daughter (who squealed merrily), and kissed his mother on the cheek before scrambling out the door. He stops halfway across the lawn and pokes his head back in the door.
"Sorry mom," he says offhandedly, "please make sure to feed Lisa and take her for walks. She should be back to normal in a week or so."
"Yay, a puppy," the little girl called in the background.
"Gotta go, bye," and he was gone. On the first steps of a very strange adventure.
"Socks, underwear, thermals, fuzzy cloak," Bannon stood over the bed with all of his adventuring equipment slowly inventorying each piece, "two ropes, stakes, pot, pen, paper, almost everburning torch, never-ending pizza, never-ending canteen, and pink-blockers." He pats the pouch at his belt, "With you, Treasure Monster, I can't think of any other big things."
"I got my bathroom kit," he adds with a scratch of his head.
The door squeaked open. A twenty-something, blonde, bombshell with her hair back in a pony tail, goggles propped against her bangs, one green eye, one blue, bazoombas that any husband would love, and some great baby making hips. She was deep into the latest engineering magazine, so she didn't see any of what her hubby was up to. Something that Bannon was very greatful for.
"Did you remember to take the crap to the curb?" She asked the question softly and without looking away from her book.
"Yes, honey," he responded lovingly.
"Thanks, spanky." She rummages through a dish on the dresser and pulls out a set of keys before heading back toward the door.
Bannon sighs audibly, but perhaps a little too soon, for as soon as he was finished expelling the breath, Lisa stops and turns around. "Where the hell do you think you're going?" Her voice was simmering with anger, but her genuine curiosity was keeping her from screaming.
Five foot eleven of dense and well toned muscles started to tense up in worry. "Well, honey, I really need to do that thing that we talked about before."
"Which thing," she asked with a raised eyebrow.
"The Santa thing."
"Oh," she said, the curiosity no longer in her voice. "I thought we had settled that. I thought we decided that you would be gone too long and that whatever Santa did, he did for a reason."
"Um," he stammered as he spoke, "I'll be back before High Summer. I've had longer trips for things that you needed, and I really need to know why."
Lisa clinched up in frustration, on the verge of unleashing a string of obscenities that she only dared in her dark room, but before it could leave her lips she reached for her pony tail and tugged on it with a sigh. As soon as she had her composure back she spoke as evenly as she could manage, "Fine, have it your way. Bannon Lewis, you are not..."
"POODLE!" Bannon shouted at her in the middle of the baleful sentence about to be uttered.
*bark* Instead of his Knocker wife there was now an angry, well groomed, miniature pink poodle yapping up at him from the doorway.
"I'm sorry, honey. I love you, but I have to do this. I'll be back as soon as I can. Please forgive me later."
Bannon threw all of his things into the backpack he had prepared and ran out the door, skirting and avoiding the little dog. He ran downstairs, hopped the banister, ruffled his sons hair, picked up and swung around his daughter (who squealed merrily), and kissed his mother on the cheek before scrambling out the door. He stops halfway across the lawn and pokes his head back in the door.
"Sorry mom," he says offhandedly, "please make sure to feed Lisa and take her for walks. She should be back to normal in a week or so."
"Yay, a puppy," the little girl called in the background.
"Gotta go, bye," and he was gone. On the first steps of a very strange adventure.