E-mail address: liza_cameron@yahoo.com Title: Mouse Tale on a Monday
The second I walk into the lobby, she's all over me. Startled, I do a little half-jump-backward-twirling thing. Admittedly, it's not a very manly maneuver, but I wasn't expecting a sneak attack. And she's loud this morning; too loud and too cheerful for Monday morning at 7: 20am. "You have senior staff in ten minutes and then the FCC people in the Mural Room; after that-" "What's with the sneak attack?" "Sneak attack?" "Yes, sneak attack. You should warn me when you're lying in wait. Aren't you the one who's worried I'm gonna have a heart attack?" I shoot a sideways glance over at her and notice that she's blushing. The fact that she blushes when I accuse her of worrying about me, is pleasing… I don't know why, but it is. Besides she's really easy to make blush, what with the practically translucent skin and all. "I don't sneak attack." "You do. How about this? Instead of waiting beside the door where I can't see you, you should wait in front, where you'll be in full view when I enter." "Should I also wear an orange jumpsuit and wave you into the building with glowing air traffic control batons?" "That'd be good." "Done." She's smiling brightly. Too brightly. "What's with you?" "With me? Nothing, why?" "You're awfully happy and full of life today." "I'm always happy and full of life." "This is true… but you're more so today… you're chipper. Why are you so chipper early on a Monday morning?" "Hmm… if you must know…" "I must." What am I doing? I have to be in Leo's office in eight minutes; it'll take at least that long for her to get through her story. Good thing we can walk and talk at the same time. It's a talent that has served us well. "Since you asked so nicely… I have a mouse." "Huh?" Donna can be… out of the ordinary. But usually I get her. I'm not getting how a mouse puts her in a good mood. "A mouse. I have a mouse. Or rather, had a mouse. Yesterday I was doing laundry in that closet my landlord calls a laundry room, not that I'm complaining mind you, I love not having to use the washer in the basement of my building anymore-" "Donna, staff in seven minutes." We're in my office now and she's unpacking my backpack as she talks. "Right, anyway, I'm standing there and I feel something move right across my bare foot. I don't mind telling you it scared the sin out of me." "I hope not…" Some might think I'm smirking at her. But I'm not. It's a smile with irony. "I have a feeling sin would be a good color on you." She just rolled her eyes at me and, yes, she ignores the remark and continues with her story. "After screaming and jumping up and down several times, I ran into the living room and hid on top of my coffee table." "How long did you stand on your coffee table?" I bet Donna would be cute, all afraid of a little mouse. "About ten minutes." "So, why did hiding on your coffee table because you have a massive rodent infestation put you in a good mood?" "It was not massive. It was one mouse. Singular. And I'm getting there." She hands me three color-coded files that I might possibly need to refer to during senior staff. She really is the best at what she does; I don't know what I'd do without her. Even so, we still need to speed this along. "Can you get there faster…" I tap my wrist. "I could if you'd stop interrupting me…" "Fine… continue… why did the mouse infestation, singular, put you in a good mood?" I end the question with a put-upon sigh, like I can't get this conversation over fast enough. It's part of our little game. The reality is, I'm rarely too busy to talk to Donna. It's the best part of my day. "Because I called the exterminator!" The look on her face can only be described as gleeful. Now we've left my office and are walking towards Leo's. "Still lost. Are you excited because you found an exterminator who was willing to work on a Sunday?" She just gives me a look. "No, but that was a coup. The exterminator came… and he was cute! Really cute. I mean really, extremely cute. His name is Eric and…" "The exterminator?" I'm afraid my voice might have gone up with that one, but you see, I now know where she's going with this. I stop walking and Donna is forced to turn back in order to face me. "Yes!" She says it so victoriously. "You hit on your exterminator?" Why do I have a funny feeling in my stomach? "Well, I didn't so much hit on him as much as flirt a little…" "With your exterminator?" I'm incredulous. Who hits on their exterminator? It's just not done! "Yes, what's wrong with an exterminator?" "I don't know, because he kills things for a living?" "Yes, pesky things… rodenty things…" "So you flirted with Eric the Exterminator and …" "He asked me out for tonight! We have a dinner date. A date, Josh, I'm going on a date with a cute guy! So, by the way, I need to be out of here by eight." "Eight!?" Ouch. The funny feeling in my stomach has been joined by a slight stinging in my chest. I wonder if I'm getting sick? On a completely unrelated note, I must think of a reason she absolutely has to work late tonight. It's for her own good, she'll thank me someday. You'll see. What do they always say about serial killers? Oh yeah, they start with mice and the next thing you know, they’re offing beautiful blondes… "So don't even think of keeping me late tonight." She's shooting me a pointed glare. How does she know me so well? "But eight? I don't know about that, Donna, we have a lot to do, what with the … um… vote on… um…" "Vote on what, Josh?" She sounds amused. She's caught me and she knows it. There is no vote of importance coming up in the next few weeks. "HR 487." "That's not for over a week." She's started walking again, so I follow her. "We still have to be ready. It's a tough one." "It has bi-partisan support. It's going to pass by at least a hundred votes." "Doesn't mean we don't need to stay vigilant. You never know how these things might turn." "Joshua Lyman." She stops as we reach Margaret's desk and puts her hands on her hips in an authoritative manner. "Did you or did you not make plans on Friday to watch Monday Night Football with Charlie and Toby tonight?" "How do you know that? Were you eavesdropping?" Best defense is a good offense. I learned that in high school football. What? I could have played high school football… if I had wanted. "You were sitting on my desk when you made the plans." "Oh, well, you still shouldn't-" Suddenly, she's pushing me into Leo's office. "I'm leaving here at 7:30 tonight. Deal with it." 7:30! How did 8 become 7:30? But I can't even complain about it because the door is closing on senior staff and she's on the other side, out there talking to Margaret. No doubt she's telling her about Eric the Exterminator and the hot date. Oh, there's that stinging sensation again. *** It has not been a productive day. Senior staff was fine, but my meeting with the FCC people, I'm not entirely sure what the hell that was about. I think I agreed to 'look into something.' Next on my agenda were some government scientists. I'm also unsure of what they wanted; I think it was something about the end of life on Earth as we know it unless we do something… can't remember what it is, though. That's okay, Ed and Larry were in the meeting. They're bright guys; if something needs to be done to save the world, I'm sure they're on top of it. Now I'm headed back to the office after a lengthy meeting on the Hill, in which, frankly, paying attention wasn't all that necessary. Two NRA-lovin' Republican senators who wanted concessions on guns. It really didn't put a strain on my usually considerable skills to repeatedly tell them, no, the President is not willing to back down on assault rifles. Although, at one point I think they thought they were making headway when I asked what kind of firearms an exterminator uses. Hey, for all I knew, they shoot the critters. I mean, do you think it's appropriate for Donna to date someone who carries a gun? Because I don't. Potential serial killer, remember? But apparently, they don't use guns. I'd be curious to find out what they do use, though. It's 5pm and I don't know what has me so distracted today. I just can't concentrate. Maybe I ate something tainted yesterday. I guess I have been thinking about Donna and her date a lot today. Fine, I'll admit it, I don't like when she dates. It's just that, when she's dating someone, she slacks off and doesn't devote the time and energy necessary… nope, that's a lie. She never slacks off. She's always the picture of dedication and efficiency. Even when she's dating someone. So why don't I like it? I don't know… but I don’t. Don't get the wrong idea. I want Donna to be happy. Happy like she was this morning when she met me at the door. I guess if this gomer makes Donna light up like that, I should be happy for her. I don't feel happy, though. When I enter the bullpen, my eyes find Donna instantly. Whoa… she doesn't look happy anymore. She's talking to Margaret. As I get closer, I realize they haven't noticed me, but I can hear them. I should alert them to my presence, or, you know, stand back and eavesdrop. Guess which I pick. Yup. I'm curious why Donna doesn't look happy... so, of course, I have no choice but to listen. "… can you believe that!?" Donna's voice is angry and Margaret is shaking her head in solidarity. Believe what? Believe what!? "Of all the slimy things to do…" Donna continues, sounding disgusted. Who's slimy? It's not me, is it? "Well… at least he called and was honest." "Sure, he deserves a medal. I think he lost his claim to being honest when he lied to me yesterday." Who lied yesterday and what did he lie about? "Yes, he should not have asked you out if he had a fiancee." Fiancee! Eric the Exterminator has a fiancee? Excellent! Except he lied to Donna. He hurt Donna. Bastard! "Did he say why he asked you out if he was engaged?" "Oh, he gave me some BS about me being cute and funny and him having cold feet, but that he couldn't go through with it." I'm gonna kill him. I wonder if ‘Eric the Exterminator’ is enough information to have Mike Casper run an FBI check on him or for the IRS to start proceedings on an audit. Although I can't fault his taste; Donna certainly is cute and funny. "Are you going to be okay?" Margaret is full of sympathy. "Oh, I'm fine. I don't care about Eric the Exterminator…" Hey, she just called him Eric the Exterminator. That's my name for him. Not that it's particularly clever, but still, she got that from me. "… I was just excited that I met a really cute guy that wasn't in politics." Hey, what's wrong with politicians? Lots of smart, successful, dimpled guys are in politics. Good catches. "Hell, I wouldn't mind meeting a cute guy, even if he was in politics,” Donna continues. “You know when the last time I had dinner with a cute guy was?" Margaret is laughing. "About the same time I last had dinner with a cute guy? I think dinosaurs were walking the earth…" "Exactly." Donna is emphatic. Hey, she had dinner with me recently. Well, take-out. Doesn't that count? I'm cute. Aren't I? "It's been ages… well, besides Josh." "Josh doesn't count." Margaret just snorted. Why is Margaret snorting and discounting me? I never liked Margaret. "Right…" Donna's nodding but she doesn't look convinced. I can't tell if she thinks I count or not. Which is it? "Let's go to the mess, you need chocolate." "Yes!" Donna raises her fist in the air. "Chocolate!" And they're gone. Allowing me safe access to my office and time to think. On the one hand, I'm thrilled the date is cancelled. The funny feeling in my stomach is gone. I don't know why, but it is. Must have been a half- day flu bug or something. On the other hand, Donna's not happy. And that really makes me not happy. *** It's almost eight. Donna hasn't told me her date's cancelled. And I can't bring it up. I'm not supposed to know, remember? If I go out there, maybe she'll tell me and then I can… I don't know what I'll do. Only one way to find out. I saunter out to her desk. "Hey…" She looks up and smiles at me, although the sparkle she had this morning is definitely gone. I like it when she sparkles. "How's your day been? Haven't seen you much…" I haven't seen her much because I've been out of the office, but this is my way of fishing for information. "Good… fine… good." "Look, why don’t you get out of-" "I can stay." "Oh… what about-" "Cancelled… that's, uh, not going to work out." "Oh… I'm sorry to hear that." "No, you're not." Ouch, her voice is a bit… barbed. "Well, no, I'm not, but only because that means you're free…" "What do you need done?" She's all business. "It's more of a favor." "Okay… what?" "I've been craving Fat Phil's chicken." "You want me to go get take-out?" She crinkles her forehead and squinches up her nose. She's awfully cute when she does that. It really is very hard to blame Eric the affianced exterminator for succumbing to her charms. "No… I thought we could go over there. And, you know, actually eat in the restaurant. Come on, I'm buying." She's staring at my curiously. Why is she doing that? I don't bear up well under scrutiny. "How is that doing you a favor?" I shake my head at her playfully. "Donna, you know that if I go there alone Mrs. Fat Phil will trap me into an endless conversation and heckle me about any number of topics." "True." "So save me. You love Mrs. Fat Phil's Gourmet Macaroni and Cheese." Yes, I'm bribing her with comfort food, so sue me. "Yes, I do. She puts cayenne pepper in it. It's got bite." She's pretending to think about it, but I've got her. I can tell. "So what do you say?" "Sure… yeah… okay." She's smiling again. And there might be a hint of a sparkle. I made her smile and semi- sparkle. That makes me happy. "I can do you this favor." She rises from her desk and starts to gather her stuff when something appears to occur to her. "But-" "What?" No buts, there are no buts. "Aren't you supposed to watch football with Toby and Charlie tonight?" Ohhh. Monday Night Football at the bar down the street. Totally forgot. That's okay, I'll call Charlie from the restaurant and tell him I'm not meeting them. They won't miss me. "Um… something important came up and it's cancelled." It's not a total lie. Something important did come up. It's just that I'm the one cancelling, not them. "Oh…" She nods and appears to buy the excuse, before raising her eyebrows at me. "Fat Phil's Chicken is fried. You don't actually think you're going to order Fat Phil's fried chicken on my watch, do you?" "I'm not?" She slips her arms into the coat which I'm holding out for her. Yes, I can be a gentleman. Sometimes. Once her sleeves are in, she shrugs it the rest of the way on and turns on me. It's the look. She's giving me the look; the look that tells me that if I don't act fast I'm going to get an endless lecture about diet and nutrition. "Of course not. I'm getting the ostrich burger. The plan has always been for me to get the ostrich." "Good." She smiles at me, before cocking her head in a perplexed manner. "But I thought the whole point was that you were craving Fat Phil's chicken?" And she’s caught me. "Yes, well. Other people will be eating the fried chicken, and I'll be able to live vicariously through them." She looks at me oddly for a second, then shrugs. "All right." Apparently, she accepts my answer because now we're walking for the door; just me and my assistant on our way to a nice friendly dinner. I'm determined to put her in a better mood than some hot dinner date with a philandering mouse hunter would have. She will be fully sparkling by the time the evening's over. I know what you're thinking. She's my assistant. It's not appropriate for me to make my assistant sparkle. It's just that the world is a better place when she sparkles. See, I'm doing it for the good of the world. Do you think she'll consider this as a dinner with a cute guy? The End. |
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