The next morning, Monica stormed into the kitchen ASHEN, and with her voice trembling said…
“There is a… a creature in that bed! It touched my leg!”
I took a slow, deliberate sip of my coffee, hiding the smirk that was threatening to split my face in two. I looked at her with wide, innocent eyes. “Oh no! Did you find Sir Hiss?”
Monica gripped the counter, her knuckles turning white. “Sir… who?”
“Sir Hiss. Tommy’s four-foot Ball Python,” I explained casually, buttering a piece of toast. “He escaped his tank two days ago. We tore the house apart looking for him, but we couldn’t find him anywhere. The only place we hadn’t turned upside down was the master bedroom because the door was shut. I figured he’d sought out the warmest spot in the house—under the duvet.”
I paused for effect. “That’s actually why I prepared the guest room for you, Monica. I was terrified he was in our bed and didn’t want you to get a scare. But when I tried to offer you the clean, snake-free guest room, you cut me off and insisted on taking the master. You were so confident, I figured… well, who am I to argue with you?”
Her mouth opened and closed like a fish out of water. The color drained even further from her face as the realization hit her: She had spent the entire night spooning a reptile.
“He’s harmless, really,” I added cheerfully. “He just craves body heat. He probably snuggled right up to your calves. Did you sleep well otherwise?”
Monica didn’t answer. She didn’t even finish her tea. She marched back into the room—armed with a broom—grabbed her suitcase, threw her clothes in haphazardly, and was out the front door in ten minutes flat. She texted my husband that she would be staying at the Holiday Inn for the remainder of the trip “for her health.”
When my husband came home later, he looked confused. “Why is my mother checking into a hotel? And why did you text me asking to borrow the rubber snake from my Halloween box?”
I just laughed and poured him a drink. “Let’s just say the master bedroom is officially ours again. Permanently.”
Monica still doesn’t know it was a toy. And she hasn’t asked to sleep in our room since.
