So my family went away for the weekend. Easter weekend. They abandoned me! Okay, technically, I refused to leave the house and go with them. Like I wanted to go to Hawke's Bay again. There're only so many times you can sightsee in sunny, sunny Hawke's Bay. Oh no, it was to be a glorious weekend of... Well, not much. But certainly no parents. And no sister (Victoria). Not like that other time my parents went away, and oh, it was all fine and dandy, my sister just kept making a BIG GIANT MESS and leaving me to clean it all. Well not this time, buddy!
It all began on Saturday. A Saturday like any other... Dark and gloomy, the rain howled outside the office. I could tell... Wait, that's not right. Okay, it was kind of windy outside, and kinda cold, because hey, we have awful weather here. But it wasn't dark. It was about lunchtime. My mother told me about fifteen times to lock the back door, my dad told me about seventeen not to forget to feed the dogs, or water the dogs, or do any of that other crap that makes dogs grow... Finally I pushed them out the door, and locked it for good measure. Measures to prevent burglars, and the untimely return of any family members.
I didn't eat any food until about three pm because I was too lazy too cook. When the growling of the untamable stomach beast began to make itself heard over the radio I was currently dancing around to, naturally I went to the supermarket and bought three bottles of coke. About two hours after that I made myself a pot of rice, because let's face it folks: rice is about the only thing I can cook. That took care of Saturday's breakfast, lunch AND dinner.
Oh no, it was not to be a lonely evening by the fireplace for Leigh. Like any self-respecting eighteen year old, I at least considered throwing a party. Unfortunately, unlike any self- respecting eighteen year old, I only have about four friends. I mean, I could have rounded up some people, but that would mean actually putting up with those people. And I guess it's just a matter of how desperate you are. Not that desperate, baby. Out of my four, one wasn't coming back from university until Sunday, and another had a tonsillectomy. Yeah, she did it just to spite me. Oh, great excuse Fiona! Tonsil this!
That just left two. Those two wouldn't miss it for the world. I mean, what could be better than a small gathering of three people on a Saturday night? Exactly. And if they didn't come, they were never going to see Mr Hunnybunny again. We went to rent some movies and purchase some strawberry schnapps. The man behind the counter in the liquor store was, how you say, mightily disturbed to see that we had rented Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, and Disney's Robin Hood. I didn't think it was that weird... Until I watched them in quick succession. Then I was forced to come to terms with fact that we are, at best, reasonably attractive freaks. We partied to the small hours, if you count the small hours as one am (I mean, think about this guys... One is smaller than all those other numbers. So if you're counting the smallest that way, well, it was one hell of a party. Sure beat the heck out of all those other digits) when Courtney decided maybe she ought to go home before her daddy stopped watching kickboxing on tv (can you say, 'clang, ker-ang!'?) and she would have to sleep in the spare room here.
I mean, I couldn't drive her. One strawberry schnapps too many. (Can you call it one strawberry schnapp?) Yes, that's right. One is actually too many. Until I turn twenty the legal alcohol limit for driving is LESS THAN one standard alcoholic beverage. I wasn't about to go driving her out to the middle of nowhere (which happens to be where her house is) on a long weekend. Let's not forget that it's completely illegal for me to drive unsupervised with passengers at any time. What could be more illegal than that, you ask? Well kiddos, driving after my legal 'curfew' unsupervised with passengers, that's what. Plus the alcohol? That's just stupid.
Aside from all the "legal jargon", I wouldn't be driving anywhere with alochol in me in the first place. I'm uber responsible, really.
Apart from those crimes I just mentioned, of course. But they're not actually putting anything but my bank balance in jeopardy, so it's a little different, don't you agree?
I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "But Leigh... Why wouldn't Courtney want to stay in the spare room?" And if you're Cam, you're also thinking, "That would make the chances of a sexy pillowfight much higher." The answer to THAT little riddle happens to be... Mice.
Little rodents. I saw one on the bed in here Friday night. So I screamed at it. You know, to make it run away. Which it did. Then it came back about a half hour later. There was an almighty mousehunt, during which I stayed out of the way and my father killed the little squeaker. Not in the house, that's just wrong. He took it outside, and we don't want to think of what happened to poor Mr Mouse after that.
Point is, I may be up to staying in the house by myself for the weekend, but damned if I'm going to comfort poor screaming Courtney when she wakes up with a mouse on her face. No, she had to go. And so did Harriet. Away they went, leaving me. All alone with the mice.
Sunday was a glorious day. If by glorious you mean that the wind was blowing even harder and it was threatening to rain. I slept the precious hours of the morning away, because after Courtney and Harriet went home I continued my quest to read Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles from start to finish. I'm up to book eight (in the space of three weeks). I don't want to creep anyone out or anything, but it's doing strange things to my mind. Like, I don't feel like drinking your blood or anything, so you don't need to keep taking those steps back. It's just very, very bizarre.
Eventually, after resisting the wiley tricks of consciousness successfully several times, I had to get up and walk those dogs. Yes, not only do they need feeding every single god damn day, but they also need walking. The nerve! I walked the dogs. Did I ever. I also went to the carnival, but that's not important. I set about downloading the oddest collection of music I could find and left it on my sister's computer (if you're wondering, Maroon Five, Electric Six, The Goo Goo Dolls, Kelly Clarkson, and some stuff off the Once Upon a Time in Mexico and Desperado Soundtracks). She was, heh heh, 'pleasantly' surprised when she came home. Also a little frightened.
All in all it was an agreeable Easter Sunday. Apart from the fact that I got no chocolate. Woe is Leigh.
By conveniently remaining unconscious, I had dodged the need to feed myself breakfast. I finally
got myself some lunch at about two pm. After foraging in the cupboards and fridge-freezers
(there are two of them), I found a chicken pie! Saved from myself! Alas, there was no point
trying to stretch that out for two meals. No, by dinner time, I was forced to admit that it was
time to cook myself something. Something other than rice. Something that was actually food. Was
it a disaster? No. No it was not. Haha, I bet you thought it would be. Well, it was great! Apart
from the fact I couldn't get the can of beetroot open. I mean, what the hell? No can opener? I
text messaged my sister. "Hey d00der," I said. "I'm sure I miss you and all, but I really need to
know... Where the hell is the can opener?"
"I'm sorry darling sister," she replied. "Apparently, it's broken."
"What a conundrum," I expressed. "How now shall I attain my beets? Perhaps if I gently tapped the
can against some pavement it would open."
"Just eat the can," she replied. She's so wise.
Okay, those weren't our actual words, but that was the gist of the conversation, I swear. I mean, I'm sure if you were looking at our faces, that's what you'd be thinking.
I made myself food, and it was a triumph. This is a new thing for me. I was really getting a feel for this independence thing. Alas, my feelings of bravery and triumph would be cut all too short. I was happily watching Chocolat, which is a great movie for Easter. Apart, to mention the fact again, from that I had no chocolate. Was I bitter? No, of course not. We all know, afterall, that the true meaning of Easter is not chocolate, but making little figurines out of the tinfoil it comes wrapped in, and then waging shiney, shiney war. Yes, I was happily watching Chocolat, which as it so happens, is a movie featuring Johnny Depp.
That's right: it was my third Johnny Depp movie in three days. Whoa whoa whoa, Leigh, hold the phone. That's what I hear you saying. FALILV is one... Chocolat is two... So where's number three? Wrong, suckers. I CAN count. On Friday night I went to see Secret Window, before either of the other two ever happened. I know, it's like your whole world has been turned upside down, right? Let's just try to press forward as best we can, regardless.
Suddenly there was a noise. A noise on the roof. Holy crap, I thought. Nazis! Hitler was back for my belt!
No, that's not what I thought at all, although "holy crap" is good enough. I had two thoughts: Cats. Jonathan toilet-papering my house. Either was plausible. Who is Jonathan? I mean, I don't want to say he's in league with Hitler, but I think the way he spells his name is evidence enough. J-O-N-A-T-H-A-N. Jonathan. HITLER. I'll tell you why Jonathon would be toilet-papering my house: because of that time, so long ago, so long I can hardly remember - although some argue it was "last Friday" - that we drive-by toilet-papered in his general direction.
Hey, he was stupid enough to go stand at his gate when we told him to wait out there. He deserved it.
Still, it probably wasn't Jonathan, even though he did send me that threatening letter that was singed and written from cut-out letters out of magazines. It had to be cats... Or... people. Angry drunks... Bored students... Axe-weilding maniacs lusting for my blood!
That's okay Leigh, keep cool. Keep calm. You can take on an axe-weilding maniac lusting for your blood any day of the week. You just need a really big... No, getting the knife from the kitchen would only provoke him. Just sit here for a moment by the tv. Ah, Johnny Depp... Eases the pain. I looked around the room slowly, keeping my eyes peeled for something that could serve as a weapon. My gaze fell upon a paperback book. The Vampire Armand, by Anne Rice.
Son of a bitch! It wasn't cats, toilet-paper or axe murderers! It was Armand! He had come like a thief in the night to steal across my roof and deny me his immortal blood! Well I'd show him. "You think you're so smart!" I shouted. "We'll see who's smart!" I ran to my sister's room, where I was still downloading muzak on her computer. I seized the mouse and double-clicked. Out of the speakers, at full volume, blared the theme from Desperado.
That's right. Antonio Banderas. Who, incidentally, played the character of Armand in the movie Interview with the Vampire. It was my way of letting him know I knew just who was on my rooftop. I did a crazy and defiant dance to the Spanish music. Take that, you vampire, you.
After that I went and sat back down and continued watching my movie. Although it did get me thinking. I mean, what if that wasn't mice in the walls? What if it was Armand, taunting me?! He'd be scurrying around in there in his tight leather pants, making like that scene in the Matrix. And all his vampire friends would be like, "Armand, you big idiot. Stop pretending to be Trinity. You look nothing like Carrie-Ann, and anyway, it isn't real!" And Armand would just be like, "Oh yeah? That's what they say about us, baby!"
Sometime after Four Weddings and a Funeral, I went to bed. I heard mice (or should I say, VAMPIRES) in the wall again, but I just banged on it a few times and shouted, "The Matrix isn't real, you idiot! NOT REAL!" That took care of that little preternatural problem.
Is this the end of my wondrous weekend of independence? Hardly!
I got up reeeeeeeeeeeal early (nine am) on Monday morning. This morning. I had a few precious hours of freedom and independence left, and I was determined to use them to the best of my powers. Oh yeah. I baked gingerbread men.
A gingerbread army, if you will! And just like in the real army, a few of the boys got a little too close to a few of the other boys. I tried to sort them out in the oven, but it was a difficult task and in the end I just let them go. Boys will be boys, afterall. I made sure they had nice flamboyant icing when it came time to give them some colour. After that I considered positioning my army around the kitchen, their cold merciless candy eyes staring at the door, so when my family entered they would see how I had used my time alone to ensure my domination of the household would continue. In the end I decided that would be going a little too far. But rest assured, that image of my little men positioned to attack will get me through the difficult times ahead.
I made sure the house was tidy. I made myself lunch - another successful meal. I returned our two videos from Saturday night to the video store... OR SO I THOUGHT. Didn't see that one coming. Oh noes, I accidentally gave the video store last night's Chocolat instead of Robin Hood! They got two Johnnys for the price of one! I guess whoever was working there at the time wasn't a woman, because apparently they didn't appreciate it a whole lot. Madness, I say. Still, by the time I got The Call, my family had come home. I made my mother take back the correct tape because she was here to do things for me once again. Also, she was going out anyway. I did fear she would return without the Deppinator... But she managed to bring back my tape. Crisis averted.
Yes. That's the end of my tale. I hear them now. Drums in the deep. The drums, the drums. There used to be silence. There used to be peace. No more. Come quickly, I fear we can hold out no longer! (That's a bit of Aristophanes right there. Just thought I'd point that out.) Half of my men have been taken by the enemy! It's only a matter of time before they get me too!
Ha, you wish. Happy Easter, by the way.