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You walked back into the house after just coming home from work, sat down on the couch and checked the time. 4:30. Your husband, John, would come home as well in around half an hour. After the day you had, you could really use some of his company. Just the thought of him in your arms made you smile. While you were waiting, you decided to boot up the Xbox and play some minecraft, a game you both have loved since it first came out. A half an hour and a few zombies later, you heard John’s 1968 mustang pull into the driveway. While the two of you having jobs and being away from your dog and Jack did sting, the rewards were always worth it. Plus, Jack can take care of himself. He was usually at school until 4:45 for the study group he joined at the beginning of the semester, anyway, and Rufus had food in his bowl when you left.
John walked into the front door and greeted you with a “Darling, I’m home,” then scanned the room for your face. You got up from the couch and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.
“Hello, my love. How’s David’s farm doing,” you asked him as you guided John over to the couch and handed him a controller.
John thanked you with a glance as he turned the controller on and enabled split-screen. “It’s alright. I’m convinced that if I weren’t working there, the damn place would be a pile of ashes right now. Duncan thought it’d be a good idea to try to ride one of the strongest horses for the first time with no supervision when he arrived home from school. Actually, no. Angus was watching him, not doing anything. The kid’s never even mounted a pony. Anyway, the horse throws him right as I walk into the barn, so I go and make sure he’s ok, all the while Angus is laughing his ass off. I hollered at him to go find the horse and bring it back before I gave him an ass-whoopin’, then I got the –now sobbing– kid back in the house. He’s lucky that he didn’t get his damn brains bashed in. He was fine, ‘cept for a nasty bruise down his back. His father gave him the scolding of his life and sent him to his room, but that was nothing compared to what Angus got. I think Blackwater heard his shouts. How was your day?”
You chuckled at your partner’s story. He was always coming home with some crazy story about those two boys. Angus is 18 going-on 19 and graduated highschool with a D- average. It wasn’t really his fault, having dyslexia and garbage teachers. It’s kind of his destiny as well as his dream to take over the ranch when his dad dies. Duncan, his brother, is four years younger and ten years smarter. Textbook-wise, that is. On the street, he’s a doorstop with hair. “Well,” you started. “Mitchell figured it was a genius idea to get us an office Keurig. In the meeting room with a roach issue.”
John gave you a mortified look. “ No,” he exclaimed.
“Yes. I was the one who found out because when I went to put the damn cup in the machine, one of them popped its head out to say hi.”
The man to your right gagged and shook his hand in the air. “How did you deal with that,” he asked.
“Well, I punched the coffee pot. The thing scurried away and I ground it under my boot. The machine was utterly destroyed, so I went and informed Mitchell. He was beyond pissed . Until I mentioned why it was destroyed. Then the smug bastard said ‘oh, yeah. I’ve been meaning to tell corporate about that.’” You glowered at the T.V. screen remembering these events.
John glanced at you, breathed out a small laugh. “Let me guess,” he began with a smile. “Irate?”
“Doesn’t even scratch the damn surface. I demanded that he call an exterminator, as he’s my subordinate. He will be there on wednesday. I was actually considering paying him for the damage. Oh, and here’s the kicker: there was already a damn coffee pot in the break room on the floor below that one.” You continued, now hunting for spiders and skeletons. It’s an easy stress-reliever.
John paused his game to start dying laughing. “Oh, I am so sorry,” He said once he recovered. “I don’t think I could imagine the type of rage I would have felt.”
“I do. You’d’ve killed the guy instead of just really wanting to,” you joked back.
The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for around five minutes until Jack walked into the door from his study group and sat down on the armchair next to the sofa. He gave you a small greeting, which you returned. After watching you and John play Minecraft for a little bit, then his phone dinged. Jack looked at it and breathed an exasperated sigh, then muttered “that dumbass of a child.”
John scolded him on his use of foul language (Where does the kid get it from?) then asked Jack what was wrong.
“You know Duncan, right,” Jack asked
“Of course I know him. I work with his father,” John answered.
Nodding with acknowledgement, he continued. “Then you know he rode Jeremiah. That one giant horse that I can barely ride. He thinks he cracked a rib.”
John chuckled and said “Ah, that kid’s fine. A couple of days– without riding a horse, obviously –and he’ll be fine. Don’t give him too much crap, his father ribbed him enough. Anyhow, how was your day?”
Jack smiled at his father and answered the question. “It was ok. Mike tried to get into a fist-fight with one of the special-ed kids. Little did he know, the kid was wearing platform boots, and Mike got a swift kick to the inside of his leg, and he fell flat on his-” John gave him a warning glance. “-posterior…”
You chuckled at your kid’s story. “Did he get sent to the nurse?”
“Surprisingly, no. He bawled like a baby, however. How was work, Dad?” Jack asked you.
You looked at him and decided that you already relived that story once and didn’t need to again. “Productive,” you answered.
Jack nodded, said that he needed to do his homework and left you and John alone. You looked at the screen then decided to exit the game. Your sweetheart looked at you as if to ask if something is wrong. You gave him a smile and wrapped your arms around his waist. He gave out a hum of contentment as you brought your lips to the nape of his neck. You made your way up to John’s face and peppered kisses along his scars that he got after a hiking accident. He gave a tiny whine as he turned the console off and turned to face you. The two of you shared a chaste kiss and he buried his face in your chest. Your heart fluttered as you corded your fingers through his soft, black hair and thought back to your proposal on that mountain. You were looking over the mountain and waited for the sun to set. Once it did, it cast a beautiful orange-pink glow across his almost-devine face. It illuminated and accentuated his eyes in a way you never thought it could. It was that moment when you knew. This was the right moment. You didn’t get down on one knee, you didn’t have some poem, you just asked him and showed him the ring. He replied with a surprised yet enthusiastic yes. The two of you eloped on a beach in Michigan with the only guests being Lenny, Charles, Arthur, Javier, and your parents. Micah crashed it, because why wouldn’t he? He ran in, half-soaked and screaming that he objected. Javier started yelling at him in Spanish, making sure to speak as loud and as fast as possible for the terrifying effect. Micah ran off. He soiled his pants.
You laughed when you thought of the morning after. You woke up fully naked, with a splitting headache and John sprawled out on the floor next to you, a pillow between his legs. Neither of you remembered anything, and still don’t remember it.
“What ‘chu laughing about,” John asked, half-asleep and pulling you out of your thoughts.
“Our honeymoon. What little of it I remember,” you replied. The loss of memory wasn’t just due to your blood-alcohol level at the time. It was also 18 years ago. You two adopted Jack as a baby two years later. You and John gave him the name. The only thing the orphanage was able to tell you was his age and gender.
John chuckled and stated, “Yeah, that was a fun night. Or, I hope it was, at least.” The two of you fell back into silence. Your eyelids began to grow heavier and heavier with each breath. You could tell that this was going to be a nice and peaceful evening.
Or so you thought.
At around 8:15 at night, somebody burst through the door, almost knocking it off of its hinges. Immediately, you got up from under your husband, who was somehow still sleeping, picked up your gun, and yelled “Hey! Who the hell are you?!”
A gruff voice spoke up from the darkness. “Relax, relax, it’s me.” The figure that you could see had its hands in the air. It looked around 6’1” and was wearing a familiar-looking cowboy hat. The figure stepped into the light, revealing himself to be-
“Arthur,” John shouted, just having woken up due to the noise. “What in the hell are you doing here?”
“I’m running from Micah,” Arthur replied. You put your revolver back on the table and sighed in relief, grateful that some crazy idiot in a cowboy hat hadn’t broken into your home. Oh wait.
“From Micah ? What could he of all people have done to scare you that badly?” You were flabbergasted. Micah Bell was a coward and a rat. A filthy, damn rat. (He told the principal that you were the one selling edibles in freshman year. You haven’t forgiven him. He also stole your crayons in 2nd grade.)
“Do you know that console game, Minecraft,” Arthur asked after sitting down on the couch. “Well, Micah, Dutch, and I decided to play it when we all got back home from the office. I was out fishing and Micha’s house spontaneously combusted. There was a thunderstorm and one of those super-creepers was in his house. Micah automatically assumes I did it, and kills me.”
“Ok,” you start, more confused than before. “So he killed you in Minecraft. Big deal. Why are you running from him?”
“You didn’t lemme finish,” Arthur took a sip of the coffee that Jack brought to him. The poor boy was scared out of his wits. He had a machete. Nobody knows where he got it. “Micah then threatened to burn my condo down. Not a big deal. I told him that he didn’t know the address, and he started to read it back to me. So I got on my horse and I booked it over here.”
Jack spoke up. “Don’t you have a car?”
Arthur looked back at the boy and replied, “Yeh, but I, umm, I went out the back and took what was closer. Which was my horse.”
“How did you get a horse down the inter-” just as John was about to ask, somebody started pounding on the door, yelling to Arthur to “get outside so I can tear your head off of your shoulders!”
“Jack, Darling, get into bed and pretend to be sleeping,” You began instructing. “Arthur, follow John and hide in our closet. Nobody comes out unless I tell you to, understand?”
Everyone in the group nodded. “What ‘bout you,” Arthur asked.
“Not to quote your boss, but I have a plan. Just go,” You replied. Everyone got to their places, then you took your shirt and pants off, leaving yourself in your boxer-briefs. You then messed up your hair to make it look like you just got out of bed. Which you kind of did. You slumped toward the door in an exhausted fashion after picking the revolver back up and opened it with a scowl on your face. “Bell. Do you know what time it is, and when I have to get up for work in the morning?”
“Good evening, Y/N,” Micah greeted, with a smoker’s voice. “I need Arthur Morgan out here to solve a… simple misunderstanding.”
You rolled your eyes. “Arthur’s not here, you dumbass.”
“Oh, really? Because that’s his horse right there.” Micah pointed over to Boadicea, who was calmly hitched at the ranch’s fence.
“He asked if me and John could deworm her for him,” You began, your middle-school improv skills being put to good use. “He couldn’t because of his schedule for this week. I have work in the morning, please leave so that I may go back to bed. Before I call the damn police on your ass.”
Then Micah’s phone rang. He picked it up. “Whaddya want, Dutch? … Yeah? What about it? … YOU CHARGED THE CREEPER?! … I’M ALREADY AT BEECHER’S HOPE!!! … BECAUSE ARTHUR’S HERE, I JUST KNOW IT!! … Fine.” HE hung up the phone. “You got off easy this time, cocks-”
You cocked the gun and poked the barrel out of the door, pointing it at Micah’s crotch. “Finish that sentence and you lose your man parts.”
Micah looked at the gun and then looked back at you. You live in Missouri. If somebody trespasses on your property, you have probable cause to shoot them. Micah knows this and backs away. Laughing nervously, he said, “Um, haha, just- just calm down. Think rationally, now.” He walked back to his car, never turning his back on you. He got in and drove away. You called everyone back out to the living room because it was safe. They chatted for a bit, Jack went to bed, then they got black out drunk. You woke up on the floor, a neck tie on your head, and John using your thigh as a pillow. Arthur was sitting upside down on the armchair, Rufus laying on his chest. They all called in sick from work.