Sunday, March 14, 2004

The Return of the (other) Devil Monkey Child

The last time she slept over, all hell broke loose.

Then teeth gnashed, egoes rankled and a pretty nasty pillow fight ensued. Not quite the maelstrom of white zigzagging feathers abruptly slashed through midair by the centrifrugal force of whirring eight-point cotton on reddened flesh but enough pounds per square inch applied rapid fire to barrage any target to smithereens. Natural enemies, the two battled as if in a Texas cage match because no blood, no foul. Finally the sugar rush from their respective thirsty two ouncers of raw Coke, pure intravenous caffiene, subsided. The hard shell ground beef tacos smothered with two packets each of medium hot sauce from Taco Bell induced a food coma sometime past two in the morning and she passed out, a Shetland pony neighing aloud while he crashed and burned at the edge of the futon.

So lesson learned. This time, divide and conquer. One at a time reduces the migraine factor by half, hopefully.