Page 10 of Perfect Mess

“You want to talk?” In the distance, another rumble of thunder rolled in with the setting sun. A storm was coming. “You want to talk to me?”

“So I could apologize,” Jack explained. He smelled like raw hide and sawdust and the pheromones of uncircumcised bulls. “Maybe make it up to you somehow. If you’d let me.”

My pitiful brain scrambled to keep up. Did Jack Thompson just ask me out? My Hook Up Janet plan took a steep dive off a high cliff, crashed, and burned. Nothing left but the ashes. It was time for a new plan. And in this new plan, Janet wasn’t the one hooking up. I looked around for a fire extinguisher I could use to douse my crotch.

Perhaps it was the hand of God reaching down from the heavens. To give me the finger. Perhaps it was karma, and I was Genghis Khan in a former life. Or maybe the Universe had a grand master plan and my role in that plan was to endure eternal suffering.

Everything that happened next happened in slow motion.

I heard aMOO.

I heard aSCREAM.

I heard aCRASH.

I turned just in time to see Simon head butt the gate, the same gate Janet leaned against when she was patting Simon’s head. The same gate with the sign that explicitly said-

Warning, Do Not Lean On Gate!

Apparently fed up and disgusted by my carrot taunting, Simon took matters into his own hands. Or hooves, I suppose, in his case.

It would have been nice if this was the part of the story where Jack Thompson swooped in, scooped me up in his big, brawny arms, and dashed me off to safety. And then I, ever-so- grateful, leaned in close and we shared this amazing fairy tale kiss. But that’s not what happened.

What really happened was the herd of cows, led by Simon, broke loose from their pen.

They started coming.

I started running away.

I should have dropped the carrot.

I didn’t drop the carrot.

I kept running.

They kept chasing.

I turned back, only for a second, to see how close the cows were.

I didn’t see the dessert table.

Until it was too late.

When I opened my eyes, a flock of canaries orbited my cranium. It was hard to tell what part of the mess was the remains of the chocolate fountain, and what part of the mess resulted from the cows eating the chocolate fountain.

Ralph said, “Holy cow.”

Janet said, “I’ll go find a doctor.”

Jack said, “You found one. Right here.”

And that’s when the hero really did swoop in to save the day.

“You’re a doctor?” After hitting my head, I wasn’t sure I had heard him right.

Jack swept aside the mangled chocolate wreckage and dropped to one knee, boot planted in a smashed apple pie, jeans smeared with brownies. Possibly cow poop.

He leaned in close, almost on top of me. Face to face. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

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