On our way home I asked Brett to stop by the store of one of my brides. She had the vases I used for her wedding ready for me to pick up. On the way, I suggested to Brett that we should probably check the dogs for ticks when we get home and he shrugged off this statement. Big Guy wasn't concerned. When were just a minute away from the store, Brett felt something crawling over his knee and looked down to find a wee little tick. At this exact time I learned that Brett really hates ticks. He grabbed the tick in a pinch of napkin and handed it to me while he pulled into the shop parking lot. I peeked into the napkin and found no tick.
"It's in the car!" Brett barked.
"Ok. It's alright. We'll do a thorough tick check when we get home."
"No. It's in the car. It could get on one of us!"
"Yes, but that's ok. We're almost home. We can take care of it."
Brett developed the heebeegeebees and started flinching and slapping and rubbing his skin. His hair tickled his neck and he leaped about in his seat. I left Brett floundering around in the car and skipped into the shop and made small-talk with my bride. Oh she had the best time. And oh she loved her flowers. And gosh, "you have to send me the photos when they come in!" We jabbered on for a few minutes and finally I stepped out of her office and into the showroom, a wall of 8 foot glass windows. What's that trashing around in the parking lot? Is that a naked man? Oh gosh. It's Brett.
I stepped outside and rushed over to our car. "Brett! There are people in the store!"
"I don't care!" he hissed. "I found two more on my legs. One of them had already attached!"
Brett had taken off his shirt and shoes and socks and had his shorts rolled up as high as possible so he could inspect his fleshy white thighs. He was crouching and twisting, pulling at the bottom of his butt cheek.
"Brett! Put your clothes on!" I looked at the showroom windows and flashed a polite smile. I'm certain people were watching. "Where did you put the ticks?"
"I've got to take my pants off,"he said and he reached for his zipper.
"You get into the car!" I demanded. "If my bride comes out here..." Brett climbed into the back seat with Grace and Pippa while I circled around the car to passenger side, smiling calmly at the building, and then ducking into the car. I spun around in my seat and Brett was down to his loolies.
"Brett. Can we not do this at home?" I started giggle a little. I looked down and found the two ticks dropped into a water bottle.
"No! We're doing this now! It's not funny, Lu."
Brett laid on his back between the dogs and not unlike them, had his hind legs in the air, inspecting his inner thighs. His feet were on the ceiling.
"We're going to have to check the dogs," he stated. I rolled my eyes. I turned back around facing forward, checking the mirrors for curious customers and watching the one bloated tick roll around in the water bottle. Brett thrashed around in the back. The girls thought it was lots of fun. Suddenly Brett's underwear surged forward towards the dashboard. My eyes bugged.
"You're going to have to check my butt."
I looked over my shoulder at my naked husband bent into an unnatural shape in the back of my car.
"Brett Eisenhauer, I will check your butt when we get home." And then I contracted uncontainable giggles. Suddenly this all struck me as very funny and Brett hated my laughter.
"Lu!" he whined.
I looked past him at the storefront and checked the road in front of us. The coast was clear.
"Fine. Turn around."
On his hands and knees, Brett turned to face the back of the car and I braced myself for an unstudied sight. I continued to check the surroundings and then turned to look at Brett. He was on his hands and knees but he had his butt curled under, the way a guilty dog tucks his behind as he scampers away.
"I can't see. You've got to untuck."
A still and silent moment passed and then a soft, whimpy Brett whispered,
"I don't wanna."
He finally worked up the courage to uncurl and I'll tell you, I found the biggest tick of the day making its way towards Brett's darkest secret. I snatched it with more napkin bits and added it to our collection.
Brett redressed himself and emerged from the backseat of the car to drive us home. I wondered what was going on in the store. We rode home quietly, did a household tick inspection with the following results: Brett 4 - Grace 2 - Pippa 3 - Laura 0, and then we marveled at the wild ride. I'm happy to report that no one became ill and we were able to give the ticks a proper burial (Brett flushed 'em).
Since this day, Brett has become sensationally amused by this tick story and proudly tells of his shame while standing by his overreaction.
I found it all oddly endearing.
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