Widow and Luke ... A Great Idea

Well, when we'd last spoken, I'd just had my computer keyboard nicely washed and had also managed to thoroughly scare one of my pets to within an inch of his life (with bath water). I am glad to say that after a week of attacking the sprinkler and playing with the kids on the slip and slide, he has finally allowed us to wash him. We'd done it outside (wife's orders) because it would cause too much calamity inside; my wife's actual words were "If you bring those crazy dogs back in hear to bathe them, then you can just shower on the lawn". Well, it was quite clear that the dogs had to be groomed outside. I was never a bright guy when it came to interpersonal skills, (dealing with others). At home, I would always only want whatever it was that was causing a problem to stop. I would resort to anything to get it done. Then I'd retreat into my study and write. That's the way it has always been and it has been great. I hear a commotion and I peep my head out to discover the source, scream out the description of some violent act (that will be done to the author of the calamity) then go back into my study. Job done. Those were the good old days before the triple threat of the "Triangle of Chaos" AKA, the dogs and the duck. I would sit in my study and stare peacefully out into the garden for inspiration but that will not be the case today. For today is my day of "The Great Idea" Yes, today is dedicated to lunacy and chaos. It started with Quackers briskly waddling into the backyard through the little ducky door I'd installed. He is holding true to his name by putting up quite a fuss as the kids chase him to retrieve the object he is holding in his mouth. It is a ten-dollar bill that I had just handed the kids for the ice cream man (who is due by soon). The kids scream and try to cut him off but the fleet footed fowl will have none of it. At every turn, he evades them and leaves them in the dust. It was really quite funny, until the tears began and the dreaded knock at the door came. I peeked out to see the youngest, the boy Blevin crying and saying, "Ducks got money". Knowing that the good humor man was soon to appear, my "super dad" reflexes snapped into action. Should I try to catch the slippery little waterfowl and look as stupid as the kids? Or employ a new strategy. I thought for a moment and came up with a plan that would not fail. I would meet the ice cream man and pay him myself but not only that, I would buy extra ice cream cones to avoid the after effects of an encounter with the other parts of the trio of doom (Luke And Widow) who have been strangely absent from today's festivities. It was fool proof! It not only solved the present problem with ease but it offered a solution to one that didn't already exist. Because I had remembered the looks of deep despair on the kids faces when they discovered how much the dogs liked ice cream too. On the last time we went down this path, of course the ice cream had been knocked from their hands by the dogs. It fell to the ground, where the pups lapped it up joyously. I felt for once, I was ahead of the "triangle chaos". I would surely be rewarded with a few hours of peace and a deserved treat. Now the magical sound of ice cream bells came into ear shot and I waited at the street side with a fresh twenty. Feeling a little bit cocky, I chose the kids' favorites: one chocolate fudge ice-pop and a strawberry éclair. I quickly tripled that to account for the 'trio of doom" and got two more for my wife and I. There would be one extra just in case of a mishap. It was perfect! But where were the dogs? Little did we know, as we stood near the curb, ready to receive our treats, that the signature bells had alerted the "trio". They had taken up positions near the porch, where they bided their time chasing each other, while Quackers watched with the $10 bill in his beak, on the steps. The kids were pleased with my choices and quickly tore into the tasty ice cream treats. As we returned to the house I almost had a tear in my eye from this perfect plan. As I approached the porch, I could swear the dogs nodded at the duck (which just could not be possible) but in any case, as my foot touched to meet the third step, Quackers ran underneath and to avoid stepping on him I had to step long and in doing so started to fall. I struggled to brace myself for the fall. As you can guess, all of the deserts that were not being eaten by the kids fell from my hands and spread across the floor. I followed. From my position on my side, I was lying on the floor as I watched with no surprise, the "trio" lapping up the spoils of their well-calculated plan. As I lay there, the kids ran inside to get their mom and when she came out to see me lying on the porch and the dogs and the duck going to town on the spilt ice cream, she said nothing and just helped me to my feet and into the house. All I wanted was to write for a few hours in peace but now my wife was attending to me, trying to decide if I'd cracked a rib (I had not) while she applied something that smelled like mint to my side and back. Where had I gone wrong I thought? It was fool proof. Sore and defeated, I looked out the window of my study, as the dogs run past with the remnants of their bootie and headed off to the flower bed to bury the paper products (still dripping with the luscious melted cream I had longed for) and Quackers still carrying a ten dollar bill in his mouth, only now with a pop sickle stick added. My vacation is due soon and we have friends who own a farm that wish to keep the dogs while we are gone, to allow us some peace. I kind of like the idea but I'm horrified by the thought of what could happen to his quiet little farm in just two weeks. I'll have to decide soon; meantime my aunt wants to keep the duck for us. But quite frankly I don't think she can handle him.