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Me: How’s the day going?
Thatch: Fantastic, Sweet Tits. I’ve got 2 crazy kids running around the house and a pretty little baby sound asleep in the crib in our new son’s nursery. Plus, a pig that’s sound asleep on his bed and a horse with a cat attached to his back sleeping in the nursery.
Me: That’s three kids and three pets, Thatcher. Last time I checked, we only had one of each.
Thatch: Technically, two kids. ;)
Me: Yeah, but that one is still physically inside of me. You don’t have to do anything right now. You have the easiest fluffing job ever. I’m the one who has to carry our giant child around.
Thatch: He’s not going to be bigger than Ace. And his head isn’t going to be “Thatch-size.” My manliness is like Maybelline; you’re not born with it.
Me: Pffffffft. How would you know? You’re just the giver of the sperm. I’m the one actually growing the baby. Literally, growing life inside of me. I should get a medal.
Thatch: I’ll give you a medal in the form of pussy pleasure.
Me: Add it to your IOU list. And please explain the two extra children and pets in our home.
Thatch: They’re just two little girls I adopted for us. Beautiful girls. You might have to breastfeed the one, but we know your perfect tits can handle anything. ;)
He was so full of sneakers. No doubt, the two children he was referring to had been birthed by my best friend, Georgia. Their nanny had recently left for college, and they were still trying to find the perfect match for the girls when both Kline and Georgia had to work. So, us being the best fluffing friends in the whole world, and the fact that we now conveniently lived just down the street from them, stepped up and helped them out when we could.
Me: When did Kline drop off Julia and Evie?
Thatch: About two hours ago.
Me: Why are Stan and Walter there, too? God, I hate that fluffing cat.
Jesus. I really did hate that cat. The disdain had started way back when—before Thatch and I got together—while Georgia and Kline were on their honeymoon. We were put in charge of demon cat sitting, and…well, Thatch had lost Satan.
And that very fact only showed how desperate Georgia and Kline must’ve been to put Thatch in charge of not only their kids, but their pets, too.
Thatch: Apparently, Stan is attached to Evie, and well, you know how Walter is. He can’t be away from his canine lover. Remember when you lost Walter?
Me: I didn’t lose him, numbnuts. YOU did. And are we just bringing them to dinner tonight at Winnie and Wes’s?
Thatch: Uh-huh…pretty sure you did, honey. And yes, that’s the plan. What time do you think you’ll be done?
I typed out I’m already done, but I didn’t hit send.
As I stared down at the text and blinking cursor, a lightbulb of devious prankster motivations filled my brain, and I knew I couldn’t pass up this brilliant plan. Payback for more than one trespass against me and all in one day’s work.
Get ready, Thatcher. The prank wars are officially on. Again.
I tapped my finger on the back button and deleted the text, then replaced it with the perfect lie.
Me: Not sure yet. Probably a few more hours. I’ll text you when I’m getting ready to head out.
Thatch: Sounds good. Don’t be too hard on those guys. They can’t help it that they’re not half the man I am.
His ego was off the charts.
I smiled to myself over the mere idea of how huge Thatch’s ego and other delicious parts were. God, I fluffing love him… But I’m totally going to prank his cocky ass.
Me: Love you, Daddy.
Thatch: Fucking hell, Cass. Stop calling me that when your luscious tits aren’t in my presence. You know once my engine is running I like to motorboat.
Me: ;)
I grinned and slid my phone into my pocket and started to head for my car.
It was officially half past pranking time.
Game on, motherfluffer.
Forty-five minutes of commute time later, I stood outside of our house with my ear pressed up against the door. The entryway was completely quiet, and I had a feeling Thatch was entertaining Julia and Ace in the playroom while Evie napped in the nursery. That little lady meant business with nap time. Like clockwork, every day around noon, she’d rub her eyes and demand a bed. I prayed to everything my second child would take after her sleeping habits.
One quick glance through the sidelights around the door, and I saw that our entryway was a no-man’s-land.
It’s go time.
Slowly, I slid my key into the lock and opened it up with quiet, ninja-like movements. Once the door was shut and my back was pressed against it, I held my breath and listened for any sign that someone heard my entrance.
My high-alert ears buzzed from the silence.
Fantastic.
The first floor of our house was quiet as a mouse, and there were no signs of little—or giant—feet running around in the kitchen or living room.
I gripped my pregnant belly and slowly—in total badass stealth mode—tiptoed through the entryway, past the living room, down the hallway, and up the stairs, until I reached the nursery where I figured Thatch had laid Evie down for a nap. And since Stan had become Evie’s bodyguard, it was exactly where I needed to be.
Farther down the hall, I could hear the rumble of Thatch’s deep voice and the sounds of giggles. They were in the playroom. Which meant I needed to haul some serious ass to pull this off.
I glanced inside the crib to savor the adorable vision of the little beauty that was Kline and Georgia’s youngest daughter. She was sound asleep and holding her favorite little pink bunny close to her chest. Between Evie’s cute little dimples and big blue eyes, there was no denying that my best friend and Big-dick made gorgeous babies.
Below the crib sat Stan with his big brown eyes staring up at me in curiosity. Behind him, lay Walter—aka Satan—curled into a little ball and sawing logs.
I glanced at Evie and then back down at Stan.
Okay, I have to be honest here. Initially, I thought I’d just sneak into the house and scare the ever-loving marshmallow fluff out of Thatch, but pregnancy has stolen a bit of my quickness.
Then, I’d thought maybe I’d sneak Evie out of the house for a little bit—like ten minutes max—just to make Thatch feel what I’d felt when he acted like he didn’t have Ace.
But I’d realized pretty quickly that I couldn’t be that evil. Not even pregnant and hopped up on hormones could I put my husband through even a second of that.
Plus, there’s that whole CP&P thing. Yeah, that’s no bueno.
So, that leaves Stan or Walter.
Which, obviously, means Stan.
I grabbed Stan’s leash out of Evie’s diaper bag and clipped it to his collar.
“Walk?” I whispered to him. “Would you like to go for a walk, big guy?”
He tilted his head to the side and stared at me for a quiet moment.
“Come on, buddy.” I tugged on his leash and continued to whisper in hopes I wouldn’t wake up the baby or the demon cat. “Evie’s sound asleep. She’ll be just fine. Let’s go outside and play for a little bit.”
Stan still wasn’t convinced, and I knew I had to move quickly before his evil feline boyfriend woke up and started giving his best impression of a satanic possession.
It would only take ten seconds of that cat hissing and freaking the fluff out before Thatch would hear a commotion coming from the nursery.
I moved toward the diaper bag again and found his third favorite thing—a neon yellow tennis ball. I gripped it in my hand and held it up for him to see. Instantly, he lumbered to his feet, and that’s when I realized that old Stan really was the size of a horse.
Jesus. How am I going to get this giant dog out of the house without Thatch noticing? I also kind of have to pee, which I obviously can’t do here, and having ole Stan along for the ride is going to make going inside the gas station a whole lot harder too. But that doesn’t matter right now, I told myself. I can, like, give him a bag of Doritos or something while I’m performing the dreaded gas station pit stop on the way into the city.
But now, I had to execute the hardest part of the prank: the getaway.
Luckily, Stan appeared to be on the same page, slowly trotting his giant ass beside me as I walked toward the door of the nursery.
“Daddio!” Ace’s voice echoed down the hallway, and I startled, stopping midstep. Stan looked up at me, and I just held my index finger to my lips and whispered, “Shh.” He tilted his doggie head but obliged. Maybe he spoke human.
“Catch me, Daddio!” Ace shouted, Julia’s giggles trailing closely behind.
“Catch us, Uncle T!” Julia’s little voice screamed in excitement.
Uh-oh…
“I’m coming for you little monsters!” Thatch boomed. “You better find the perfect hiding spots!”
The giggles kept moving toward me, and moments later, Ace stood in the doorway of the nursery. His eyes went big, wide, and excited when he spotted me.
“Shh,” I whispered toward him with my finger still pressed to my lips. “Don’t tell Daddio that Mommy is here, okay?”
He tilted his head to the side and furrowed his little brow. “Funny trick on Daddio?”
“Exactly.” I nodded and grinned. “Mommy is going to trick Daddio.”
He grinned in a way that, quite frankly, scared me a little for the future and giggled.
