Mary and Daphne #77 (Patreon)

Mary sickens me. The way she had two weeks off work and then was excited to go back? It’s just not right! No one should be so positive and healthy minded. It’s like she’s got a long–release Focusyn capsule placed under her skin back before they took that stuff off the market.

I, by contrast, possess the much healthier approach to the end of vacations and was bummed enough for both of us. I had a new appreciation for our childhood golden retriever (Goldie, because we’re a creative bunch) and how he must’ve felt when we went back to school after Christmas. And Mary was only downstairs, but she closed the door so she could catch up on emails. I say just delete the emails and if it’s important they’ll email you again.

Meanwhile, I was working on my New Year’s resolution to live in a more organized house. At least, that’s my story, but really, I was just bored and decided to inventory our toys. Some of the stuff in there sometimes scares the crappin’ crud outta me out of context. I need context or my reaction is more like, “It’s gonna go where!?!?” All the magazines call it foreplay, but me, I call it context.

And so many impulse purchases! That’s the real reason they keep this stuff in the back of the stores; if they kept it by the register with the other impulse products, we’d be going home with chocolate bars and cheese popcorn and great big … Anyhoo, um, did I mention I had a dog named Goldie growing up? I’m wholesome like that.

And as I was straightening and organizing, I found so many ways to sort the toys, too. By size. By color. By things that sting and things that slap and things that leave welts and things that leave bruises. By things that make a noise and things that make you make a noise and things that do both. By things for when I’m bent over chairs and things for when I’m bent over Mary and things for when I’m legs up and flat on my back. I was just arranging and rearranging and playing a weird game of horizontal Tetris and made piles of things we use and things we sometimes use and things we thought we’d use and don’t, and a large pile of things (that despite its immense size contained just three items) that I dubbed “the aspiration pile” because clearly we were kidding ourselves thinking either of us could … Anyhoo …

Now, before we go any deeper down this rabbit hole (hehe!) I should tell my side of the story, also known as the truth. I’ve never misled you, for it is not in my heart to be untrue. It’s just that, like Goldie would sometimes act out when we went back to school, I was bored. What started as a made-up chore and trip down memory lane (which runs right through the heart of the red-light district), got me to thinking about what a shame it is we have things we bought and rarely use. I’m very environmentally conscious, so just like Mary said way back when if she was going to make me wear pullups it was only right that she also make me use them (some illogical  logic that woman has), I thought it would be wrong to not give some of the things we never use a second chance. And I’ll also say I got a second chance or two in my time, and I’m a big believer in them. It was an act of idealism I committed.

Or tried to commit with one such toy (let’s call it an action figure with karate chop motion and poseable doodads) when I decided there was a reason we didn’t like it and made a new pile I called the “just throw it out pile.” Before I could sample one of the other items from the Island of Misfit Toys, my phone dinged, and then something happened on Facebook, and then something else happened on Facebook, and then I decided to finally learn what TikTok is, and then someone was wrong on the internet and had to be corrected, which is when I heard this voice from the doorway say, “O. My. God.”

“Hi Mary. How’s work going?” Not well, judging by the look on her face. A rictus of horrified amazement, one might call it. Don’t see what could’ve happened in just the last two hours to make her …

“Omygod! Not what it looks like! I was, um …”

“You’re not wearing any pants.”

“O, those, yeah …”

“And you’re surrounded by piles of sex toys.”

“I wouldn’t call them piles. More like, um … stacks. Bet you didn’t realize how many things we never use.”

“Not anymore!”

“But heh muh fuh ing just one!”

“Your face is as red as that pile.” O, yeah, the red pile. “What on earth are you doing up here?”

“Straightening up.”

“Daffy, if this is how you straighten up, you won’t ever walk straight again.”

“Buhahaha! I mean, that’s inappropriate.” She has such a potty mouth sometimes. That joke was a little on the nose. If it were me, I’d have gone with something like ‘if that’s how you straighten up, I woulda begged to go to Bible camp,’ but blasphemy gets dealt with harshly in our house.

“Uh–huh. Sorry,” Mary said, “I know how embarrassed you can be on the subject of sex.”

Did she just … “Don’t you roll your eyes at me.” Eye rolling is my thing. She can’t have my thing. And then she picked up one of the things.

“I forgot we had some of this stuff. Which one of us bought this one?”

“I don’t remember.”

“Well, someone’s eyes were too big for someone’s wife.” Well, my eyes were like saucers watching her pick that up and wave it about all threatening and sexy like. “You’re not gonna faint, are you? You and your delicate sensibilities.”

I swallowed. My tongue stuck in my throat.  I needed some water or something to lubricate … Anyhoo … “Um, that’s the aspiration pile.”

“Ha! I’ll say! What an awful mess you’ve made.”

“Things often get messy before they get clean again.”

“Didn’t Martha Stewart say that when she was broadcasting from prison?”

“Maybe I should clean up after myself.”

“That reminds me.” O, I just bet it did. When things remind her, she soon reminds me of them. “Did you ever wear that French maid outfit I bought you back at the start of quarantine.”

“A couple of times, and you took my feather duster and … Mhmm, I did.”

“If you’re in a cleaning mood, why don’t you put that on and do some cleaning?”

“We cleaned yesterday.” Another thing that’s more evidence of Mary being too healthy minded. Who cleans the day after they get back from vacation? Like anyone was home to make a mess?

“But we didn’t clean our toys. I think you should put that outfit on and clean each one of these by hand in the sink.”

“This feels like a punishment.” I mean, we bought dishwasher–safe toys for a reason.

“Funny you say that.”

“Of course it is,” I said with no mirth. Mirthless.

“You’re going to clean every toy we own by the time I’m done with work, and then I want you to choose three toys for me to inspect, and if they’re not each immaculate, I’ll have no choice but to use them on you.”

“O. Hehe mmmmm ooo.” See how classy and sexy and not at all like a doofus I can be at sexy time? “Any three I want?”

“How about one toy that smacks naughty bottoms, one toy that gets worn, and one inside toy.”

Inside toys? These were not traditionally the type of toys one uses out of doors. “But they’re all inside …” Ooo, now I see what she’s getting at.

“Blushing again. I’ll give you something to blush about.”

“(Gulp).”