Psst. We need to talk.
I jumped. The good lady had popped into the kitchen and was staring at me with eyes like boiled eggs. The tone of her whisper spoke of dark things and menace.
What about?
I squeaked manfully. Now, I am not normally a squeaker. Instead my rich baritone is suited to booming and being heard but she had caught me on the hop and for some reason I got that clenchy caught farting in her favourite cup kind of fear.
The little lady ran into the kitchen.
Raar raaar, I am a dino-giraffe, you have to chase me!!
The tension was broken and we both smiled like there was no unspoken horror between us. The good lady went off and chased the little one. Roaring in an all too realistic way. As she left she shot me a baleful glance.
I shuddered. Fuck, what had I done?
Our paths didn't get to cross enough for us to talk in the rush to get the little lady to Nursery and me going to work. So I had the fine opportunity to dwell on the matter on the train journey to work.
Could it be that she had found out that I had peed in the back garden a couple of nights ago when out stargazing with my telescope? (Might I add that that is not a euphemism for anything.)
No, how would she possibly know about that? Besides if a bunch of foxes can maraud into my garden willy nilly when they please, shitting and pissing everywhere then I demand the right also.
Oh no, had she found out that there was a girl serving in the coffee shop being a bit jokey/friendly with me and instead of chasing her off with a stick, shouting jezebel or strumpet, my fragile male ego had laughed at her jokes and imagined all manner of penisery going on inside her?
But wait, I had literally only laughed at a few jokes? No, it couldn't be that.
The day passed. I was fairly busy but in any of my downtime moments I pondered the conundrum like I was wrestling a pig smeared in butter.
What could it be?
I arrived home. The good lady popped a head out of the kitchen and beckoned me with a stern crooked finger. I walked into the kitchen, relaxing my body and breathing slow just in case it got a bit tasty and it ended up going a little Crouching Tiger Hidden Dragon.
So, Daddy. Would it be ok if you started making bread again? I hate that shop bought stuff.
Errm, you want me to make bread?
Yes please, your bread is amazing!
I narrowed my eyes and sidled toward her ever so carefully.
You mean, this chat you wanted was all about asking me to... make bread?
Yes!
I thought it was something serious! I have been nervy all day!!
Why, have you done something??
She gave me that eye, the one that alligators give Texan men.
Of course not lass!
I gave her a big happy bakers smile.
