Hello, everyone! It has been a whirlwind of a week. To recap for those who haven't heard, I fell through my attic Wednesday morning, about an eight to nine foot drop and had to be rushed to the ER. I am thankfully going to be OK. The Dr. said I came close to breaking my spine, which would have been problematic. Instead, I have sprained everything from my head down to my toes. Moving very slowly, but hey, at least I still have my typing fingers. ;) Thanks again to everyone for the well wishes. Don't send flowers, just buy a copy of my latest book, "The Marriage Pact!" OK, just kidding, but please do enjoy and comment on this excerpt.
“I know, OK?” I muttered. “I said I was sorry.”
“Yes, you did. Now I want you to prove it.”
I glanced up at him. “O-kay...how am I supposed to do that?”
“That’s simple. You behaved like a child so I’m going to treat you like one.”
I hunched my shoulders at the c word--not that I could protest. He was right; the clock seemed to have turned back and instead of the mature thirty-four-year-old I’d become, I was acting more like the teenager I’d been when I’d left. “Meaning?”
“I think you deserve a spanking for the way you treated me.”
Time froze all around me and my face froze along with it, torn between a perplexed frown and a laugh. I stared at him, unblinking and he stared back. It was a surreal reminder of the staring contests we used to have as kids, which was what tilted the scale toward laughter. “Come on, Brody,” I said when I finally found my voice. “That’s not funny.”
“It’s definitely not, and I’m dead serious.” His eyes showed me that he meant every word; there wasn’t an ounce of laughter to be found in them.
“I know, OK?” I muttered. “I said I was sorry.”
“Yes, you did. Now I want you to prove it.”
I glanced up at him. “O-kay...how am I supposed to do that?”
“That’s simple. You behaved like a child so I’m going to treat you like one.”
I hunched my shoulders at the c word--not that I could protest. He was right; the clock seemed to have turned back and instead of the mature thirty-four-year-old I’d become, I was acting more like the teenager I’d been when I’d left. “Meaning?”
“I think you deserve a spanking for the way you treated me.”
Time froze all around me and my face froze along with it, torn between a perplexed frown and a laugh. I stared at him, unblinking and he stared back. It was a surreal reminder of the staring contests we used to have as kids, which was what tilted the scale toward laughter. “Come on, Brody,” I said when I finally found my voice. “That’s not funny.”
“It’s definitely not, and I’m dead serious.” His eyes showed me that he meant every word; there wasn’t an ounce of laughter to be found in them.
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