Page 72 of Own the Eights Gets Married
“Okay, then what?” she asked as the alpaca moved toward them, releasing another round of squealing pig meets screaming toddler shrieks.
“We need to run!” he cried, taking her hand and pulling her away from the agitated animal.
A bolt of lightning sliced through the sky as they dodged aspens with the alpaca in hot pursuit.
“Jordan, I’d bet all the vegan chocolate chip cookie dough in North America it’s only chasing us because we’re running. I don’t think alpacas are naturally aggressive,” she said, gasping to keep up.
“They can be aggressive,” he replied, pulling her along as he picked up speed.
Trying to keep up with Mr. CrossFit Super Runner, she searched her memory for any relevant alpaca knowledge. Were alpacas and llamas the same thing? Were llamas nice? Did it matter?
She released Jordan’s hand. “This is crazy! Stop running! I’m pretty sure alpacas are docile. I think I read something about them guarding chickens and sheep, and all Mrs. Gilbert’s friends knit with their wool.”
With rain trailing down his face, he shook his head. “We have to keep going! These are not ordinary animals! They’ve got giraffe necks, horse bodies with weird little puffy tails, and deceptively cute faces that look all sweet and innocent until…”
She wiped the rain from her cheeks. “Until what? You sound like you’ve lost your mind!”
Jordan stared over her shoulder. “Oh, shit!” he whispered.
She turned to see the alpaca with its head reared back. But, pissed off alpaca or not, she had no choice but to defuse the situation and save the man she loved from yet another animal phobia.
More than that—these animal antics had to end.
When they got home, she was going to make him write down the name of every creature he feared, big or small.
She reached toward the animal. “Hey, little guy! What are you doing out in the rain?”
She had to show Jordan this was just another one of his irrational animal fears.
“Georgie, don’t get any closer!” he cautioned.
“Mr. Alpaca is a sweetie,” she continued, not knowing if it was a boy or girl alpaca. But she was getting a strong guy vibe.
Jordan waved his hands. “He’s not sweet, babe. He’s about to…”
Before Jordan could finish, the little sweetie of an alpaca flung its wet head forward and opened its elongated, toothy mouth, as green phlegm spewed like the exorcist out of the animal. She turned her head away from the spray, stumbling back a few steps as the alpaca’s putrid spittle storm hit the side of her face.
“What the hell happened?” she screamed.
“They spit,” Jordan whisper-shouted.
Well, duh!
She touched her hair to find it sticky with alpaca saliva. “Why didn’t you tell me they spit?”
“I didn’t get a chance, and I figured you knew?” he answered.
“I don’t know anything about these animals. I’m not even sure if there’s a difference between a llama and an alpaca! How would I know they spit?” she yelled, growing more exasperated by the second.
He watched the alpaca warily. “Llamas spit, too. That’s what happened to me as a kid.”
“A llama spit at you?” she questioned, mentally adding llamas to the list of Jordan’s fears.
He cocked his head to the side as confusion marred his expression. “No, an alpaca spit at me. Why would you think it was a llama?”
This was insanity!
She backed away from the alpaca, who, after emptying the grossest contents of its stomach on her face, meandered away, seeming to have lost interest in her after sliming her with God knows what. Alpaca bile? Alpaca puke? Whatever the hell it was, it was absolutely disgusting.
