Thursday, Gary came back from his Dad's birthday with some of Mr. Wonderful's Pumpkin Crockpot Cake. It called for whipped cream.
In this house, the whipped cream is the aerosol kind and is not applied to the cake but directly into the mouth of the partaker. Bite of cake, curl of whipped cream on the tongue. Repeat.
Gary, in the Kitchen, with the Whipped Cream
I offered up my tongue for a spritz and he shot it all over my face. Game on.
"AAAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHA." It was the best of Gary's three laughs, the long gaspy one, compared to the tv-watching seal bark laugh and the contemptuous hillbilly yuk-yuk.
I needed a weapon. I could have gone with a shaken soda but that would be too messy. Instead, I went past the landing at the top of the basement steps and into the laundry room for the Windex.
Gary grabbed the whipped cream and headed over to see what I was up to. "What are you doing?"
Ellen, on the Landing on Top of the Basement Steps Which Is Between the Kitchen and the Laundry Room, with the Windex
(Before I go on - I want to assure you no one falls down the basement steps. There. I know you worry.)
"POISON!" he screamed, as I sprayed him in the back with Windex.
I hung the Windex back in the laundry room. "What poison? It's Windex. It won't even stain."
He kept complaining about poison as I joined him in the kitchen.
I noticed he'd left the whipped cream on the counter."Prove to me it's poison."
While he went to get the Windex from the laundry room, I picked up the whipped cream.
Ellen, Outside the Laundry Room, with the Whipped Cream
I got the cream and lay in wait while he found the Windex ingredients.
He barreled out of the laundry room. "Water, Isopropyl Alco - AAAGGGGH!"
He shook off most of the whipped cream, but some made it on to his face.
I ran to the kitchen and laughed. I foolishly sat the can down as I pounded on the counter.
He pointed at the whipped cream on the floor. "You're cleaning that up."
"Fair enough" I said, and headed back to the scene of the crime. I got most of it up with a paper towel and my foot, but I had to lean over to get the last little bit.
Gary, Outside the Laundry Room, with the Whipped Cream
I was wearing the loosest pajamas I own (see above: cake), so I could barely feel the waistband being lifted up before Gary sprayed whipped cream into my butt crack.
I had to concede defeat after the anal creaming. I tried to get him to lick it off, but I actually had peed myself laughing so it was a good thing he didn't fall for that.