Thursday, October 2, 2008

A stupid move

Last night, after AWANA, I wasn’t in the mood to cook, so I decided that it was a great night for pizza. Jack had bought these pizza coupons from a kid for a school fundraiser, with which we got a free large one-topping pizza from Papa Johns. Score. The only thing better than not having to cook is not having to cook and not having to pay.

Since I had left the dog at home all day, I felt bad about leaving her again, so I thought I’d take her with me to pick up the pizza. I told her she could come and she excitedly jumped in my car, rubbing her nose all over my windows and running around the backseat as I drove to Papa Johns.

“Stay here, Maggie,” I told her when I got out of the car to go get the pizza, as if she could go anywhere. “I’ll be right back.”

When I returned with the pizza, she was still in the backseat, still excited to be on the adventure.

“Jack likes brownies,” I thought. “I should surprise him with some brownies.”

Remembering that I didn’t have any eggs, I decided to drop by Brookshire’s, which was right next to Papa Johns, and run in and get some.

“I’ll only be a minute, Maggie,” I said, and went inside.

I speed-walked through the store, grabbing the eggs, lunchmeat, and bread that we needed, and headed to the checkout line. The incompetent cashier reminded me why I do not shop at Brookshire’s most of the time, and after a long delay while she tried to figure out how to scan a rubber ball for the customer in front of me, she finally rang me up and I was on my way.

As I walked out to the car, I saw Maggie in the front seat.

“Maggie, you can’t drive!” I said, amusing myself with my cleverness. As I got closer, I saw that she had a strange look on her face. Sort of a satisfied-yet-guilty look. I opened the door.

There was pizza everywhere.

“Oh no! Bad dog!” I exclaimed, as Maggie cowered apologetically. “How did I not see this coming!?” I asked aloud.

Maggie jumped out of the car to avoid my wrath, starting to scoot along the pavement on her belly toward the mostly-empty parking lot.

“No!” I yelled, grabbing her, and frightening her more. As annoyed as I was with her, I wasn’t keen on her getting run over by a car. I opened the back door and told her to get in. Still confused, she started to slink away toward the parking lot again. “Maggie! Get in the car!” I commanded, and she finally obeyed.

I shut the door and returned to the front seat to survey the damage. A half-eaten slice of pizza in my seat, and two uneaten pieces outside the box between the passenger and driver seats. I looked in the box. The rest were untouched. I threw the pieces that Maggie had taken out into a nearby garbage can and cleaned the sauce off my console with a napkin.

When I got home, I explained what had happened to Jack. He was pretty annoyed at Maggie for eating his dinner.

“So here’s the deal,” I told him. “I don’t think she touched the other pieces. It looks like she just got a hold of the first piece, then the second and third followed, but the box stayed closed.”

We looked at the pizza. It did appear to be untouched. If I told Jack I had removed the three pieces, he would have believed me.

“So I’m going to eat it. You can decide if you want to also,” I said.

He eyed the pizza carefully.

“I don’t want this one,” he said, pointing. “I think that might be a bite mark. But yeah, I can eat that.” Never let it be said that the Hornbuckles have high standards for food.

So there we sat, eating the questionable pizza and shunning Maggie, who presented toy after toy to Jack, wanting to play.

Jack still isn’t talking to Maggie a day later. Jack doesn’t share food.

2 comments:

Amanda said...

ha ha! oh waggie maggie

Ms. Walters said...

oh maggie, but she's still the most adorable thing in the world for the way she sits up on her legs.