Peter Archives

October 21, 2005

Ted: 2:14 A.M.

"Did you fix the charcoal?"

He woke up and looked at his wife, trying to decipher her words.

"Yes, honey. I fixed the charcoal."

Peter knew that trouble was on the way. Somehow, when she slept, his wife always knew when trouble was coming. And what they would need to take care of it. Last time, she asked if the ladder was ready. That ladder was the only thing that saved them from the aliens. What the hell would they need charcoal for?

Peter climbed out of bed, trying not to wake her, to go check on the charcoal supply.

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October 24, 2005

Ted: Schroedinger's Knock

"What the hell?"

Peter rolled over, his wife still asleep. "Better get that."

Sighing, Peter put on some slippers. Answering the door, Peter saw a tiny calico kitten. But no one was there knocking. He looked out into the driving rain, " Nope." Then he looked to see if there was any damage from whatever the wind knocked against the door. "Nope," again.

Picking up the cat, he went inside, the wind gusting spray at his back just the door slammed. "Jane? What shall we name your new kitten?"

"Storm," she answered, still asleep. "She'll be handy when the fire comes."

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March 16, 2007

Ted: Watch Your Step

"Peter, get the flashlight. Please."

Peter woke to see Jane fully awake. Usually, she only had her calamitous insights while asleep. How dire could this be?

He stumbled, stubbed his toe, racked his shins, fell onto Jane and knocked out one of her teeth with his forhead.

Blood blinding him, he rolled and sat up. Limping to the dresser, he pulled the handle too hard and it came out in his hand. He tugged until it fell out, landing on his uninjured foot.

Retrieving the flashlight, he turned, questions in his eyes.

"Slow down, Peter. We still have five minutes."

March 25, 2009

Ted: Peter and the Rabbit

"Honey, wake up."

"Yes, dear."

Peter waited, asking no questions.

"Peter, the rabbit hutch. Remember to check under the rabbit hutch."

Peter watched his wife drift back off to sleep and he carefully got out of bed. Dressed in his flannel pj's and heavy robe to ward off the chill, he strode out to the hutch in the backyard. Dixie was disturbed by his flashlight and beat her rear paws at him. "Sorry, old girl."

On hands and knees he looked under the hutch.

"I'll be damned," he exclaimed, lifting the baby and running into the kitchen for warm milk.