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Then she heard a toilet flush, and she had to chuckle at how her world had turned upside down.
You’d think, after saddling her with a demented mother, the good Lord would’ve cut her a break with certain members of her second family.
The door creaked open, the light from inside shining into the bedroom and making the faces of the stuffed animals appear as ghostly specters.
She wasn’t even fazed.
Instead of her heart racing with fear, she was over it and just wanted to get the evening behind her as quickly as possible.
Errol stood there, waiting, pulling at his buttoned-up collar and doing his best to appear chaste and innocent.
Birdie made her turnabout of him, as she had seen in the video of the prostitute, more as an excuse to surreptitiously finish watching the next TikTok than to stay on script.
It was all she could do to hold back a chuckle at the puppy bouncing off the walls, the voice of Michael Scott yelling, “Parkour.” How did they come up with this stuff?
Errol didn’t seem as impressed, hissing, “Birdie.”
Looking up from the screen with zero acting effort, she said, “Oh, yeah. You’ve been a bad boy, haven’t you?”
As she stood in front of him, chomping on her gum and thumbing to the next TikTok, Errol cleared his throat as if to send an admonishing message.
Birdie lifted her index finger, eyes glued to the screen. “Give me a minute.” The next video, a little boy racking his dad in the gonads with a plastic waffle ball bat. Funny stuff.
Finally, Errol said through gritted teeth and out of character, “Put the phone away.”
“Oh, sure thing.” Slipping the phone into the slit of her cleavage, she wiggled her head and torso to get back into character and pointed at him, using acting skills rivaling those in the movieShowgirls.
“You’ve been a bad boy who needs to be punished.”
As if perturbed that he too had to get back into the acting zone, he cracked his neck and then nodded as if a young boy being reprimanded, removing his high-waisted shorts and toeing off his loafers.
He stood before her as if waiting for her approval.
She hesitated. “Oh, yes,” she said, lifting her finger and jogging her memory and pointing to the shorts that looked to be from an ancient JC Penney’s catalog or maybe a diorama of pioneer days. “Take off your underwear, young man.”
He followed her stilted directions and crawled on the bed, his white ass in the air and his man dingles hanging low.
The thought of once again spanking the man’s ass with her bare hands was repugnant. Not to mention, unsanitary.
This time, she came prepared, and pulled out a plastic glove. An idea she came up with from the memory of an interlude gone wrong during a hair expo in Vegas back in the day.
She just hoped Vanessa didn’t notice the gloves missing from beneath the kitchen sink. She certainly wasn’t returning them.
Pulling the glove tight, she reared back halfway, and smacked his ass. Barely. Aware the harder she hit, the more he became aroused. Then she spanked him again, with appalling lackluster effort.
Errol kept glaring at her over his shoulder until she half expected him to yell, “Cut.”
Huh, this was almost satisfying if not enjoyable.
With the timing of an expert clockmaker, the door swung open, banging against the wall.
There was Ariana. No longer wearing a caftan with a turban on her head, but now sporting an off-the-shoulder black crepe dress, her bosoms so high she was sure to suffocate. If that alone didn’t do the trick, asphyxiation from the collar of pearls surrounding her gelatinous neck was another possibility. Her over-dyed white hair draped in damaged waves just past her shoulders.
It was as if Ursula, the sea witch, attempted to dress up as Lauren Bacall for Halloween, but she couldn’t quite wedge her body into the costume.
Ariana gasped with over-the-top astonishment and righteous indignation. “What do you think you’re doing?”
Birdie stuck her thumb over her shoulder, working that gum. “Spanking the bejeezus out of your son.”
Ariana’s eyebrows drew confused and then angry. Clearly no longer acting.
“She’s not even trying, Mother.” Errol sat up dejectedly, pushing off the bed and pulling on his underwear.
Ariana clapped her hands as if to reset and continue. “How dare you! Begone!” She pointed dramatically toward the door, to which Birdie murmured with a chuckle, “Gladly.”
