Two weeks ago, I came home from the gym and walked back to the bedroom to put my stuff down. I could hear Trevor bathing Banner in the other room. And then the clapping started.
It was coming from my closet.
It was dark.
I almost peed myself.
Apparently, given the circumstances, Trevor assumed I would open the closet door and confront the clapper. He obviously doesn't know me, because all I did was talk at the closet as I mentally prepared to run away as fast as my little legs would carry me.
In my defense, I assumed the clapper was my brother. Because he was in town, and this is the sort of stuff I expect from him. Especially after he and his girlfriend purchased a balding Raggedy Ann doll on super sale at the grocery store just to scare the sh*t out of my sister earlier this month.
(Side note: It worked. She was terrified.)
Except it wasn't my brother. Because when the clapper EXPLODED out of my closet, the first thing I noticed was, "OMG! THE CLAPPER IS TOO SHORT TO BE WILLIAM!" Panic set in and I was nanoseconds away from shrieking down the hall in hysterics when the "I'm too short to be William" closet clapper announced that they had to pee.
And, well...when your vertically challenged attacker admits they have to pee in the middle of attacking you, it really takes the edge off the situation somehow. Especially when you hear their voice and realize that it is just your high school roommate, Anni. She used to crush hard on Chris O'Donnell and is currently a furmom to an obese pug named "Bean" (ironic since she hates beans). Before the closet incident, the only thing I've ever found remotely terrifying about her is her fondness of Mickey Mouse bedding and smelt rolls. The latter of which I find less scary and more disgusting.
But back to the whole closet ordeal...
Anni goes to pee, and Trevor arrives in the bedroom swearing. Because I married an a$$hat and he filmed the whole thing with his iPhone on top of the armoire. Except I came across more annoyed than scared on camera, so he is no closer to You Tube viral video fame than he was before. Apparently, I was SUPPOSED to say something along the lines of, "Trevor, get out of the closet". To which he'd respond from the other room, "What? I can't hear you. I'm giving Banner a bath". This was my cue to freak out. Except, instead, I just kept repeating (somewhat calmly), "Oh, ha ha, William. Come on out now. I know it is you".
And then I (apparently) added insult to injury by not even giving them the satisfaction of a good ole terrified scream when Anni charged out of the closet with her face covered shouting something about the current state of her bladder.
(In my head, however, I assure you I was shrieking loudly. Because, OMG.)
Apparently, Anni and Trevor had been planning this for nearly a week, too. Anni even parked on another block so I wouldn't see her car, and Trevor made her hide her beer bottle so I wouldn't wonder why there was more than one when I walked into the kitchen from the garage. Which is all incredibly humorous to me, because it isn't like I'm observant. I'm possibly the farthest thing "observant". I once stood next to Don Henley and didn't even know it. I somehow missed a bunch of brightly dressed Buddhist monks in an otherwise empty sushi restaurant. Unless Anni's car was in my driveway, it never would have occurred to me - in the dark - that I just drove past her relatively nondescript forest green Jeep.
What I did notice later, however, was Anni's profound LACK of grasp on the phrase "just down the block". Because she parked so far away, that she needed an escort. At one point, about a block from my house, I asked why she parked next to a bulk trash heap. She responded, "I didn't. That's not my car." And so we continued to walk for another ten minutes. I nearly froze to death.
Seriously. Not even Sherlock freaking Holmes would have found her car a third of a mile away. She wasn't even parked on my STREET much less block. Had I known that she had essentially parked one neighborhood over, I would have driven her back to the car.
But what cracked me up was that I, unwittingly, bought her dinner at Taco Joint before ever discovering her clapping in my closet. Trevor called in the order, and I picked it up on my way home from the gym. I briefly wondered about the extra tacos and bowl of soup as I was paying the tab, but just shrugged and assumed Trevor was more hungry than normal. So, yeah, hide the beer bottles and park in another county, but don't worry…she'll NEVER notice or question the fact that she's buying a whole lot of extra food.
Which I didn't, but still. That's not the point. There was fault in their logic. I may not be observant, but my hindsight is 20/20.