365 Days (Part 2) | ✓

278. Sticky

278. Sticky: Imagine a situation that's very sticky (ie: maple syrup or tape or glue) - and write about it.

A/N: Based off of a picture.

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Dear husband,

Here's a power pressured silly string shooter.

I'm hiding somewhere inside with another one. Winner gets breakfast in bed.

Love you.

He shook his head, feeling the stress and weariness melt away at his ridiculous wife. Ridiculous in the best way. He had confided to her last night what a toll his heavy work schedule was taking on him and she does something like this -- something she knows he'll love. It reminded him of his days as a kid, armed with a nerf gun and flanked by all of his friends.

High pressured silly string shooter. Where did she find this sort of stuff?

He dropped his briefcase and detached what looked like a fancy water gun from the door. It was stuck there with tape, along with the note. Quickly acquainting himself with the shooter, he opened the front door slowly.

The lights were on, but his wife wasn't in sight. He could hear the drone of the washing machine in the background. Advancing slowly, like he saw people do in movies, with his arms extended straight in front of him, he cast his eyes around warily. Where was she?

If it hadn't been for the note on the door, it would have appeared to be an ordinary day. However, post-note, this innocuous place was an imminent battleground.

He stuck his head around the corner of the hallway. Pictures of him and his wife lined the walls. As he slowly advanced down the carpeted corridor, his steps muffled, he heard a sound. The man whirled around, his silly string launcher pointed cautiously in front of him.

"Where are you?" he said in his best creepy voice.

With gratification, he heard the familiar laugh coming from the office. The man ran into the room, but a fort made of pillows blocked his advance.

"Come get me," his wife said from inside.

He laughed loudly and crawled into the entrance. The moment he stuck his head in, though, it was covered in silly string and his ears besieged my loud giggling.

"Not fair!" he yelped, and hurriedly started to shoot his own string at his squealing wife until they were both covered. Realizing he was at a disadvantage, he shimmied back out and ran out of the office, skidding down the hall. She chased him, and he waited around the corner for her. When she passed, he reached out and grabbed her by the waist, pulling her toward him.

"How about a kiss?" he asked, in his best Old Spice accent.

"You know what the answer is to that," she said, with a grin he covered with his lips.

When he finished though, he replaced his face with his gun, pointed threateningly at her. "I think I win."

She flung her head back and her peals of laughter was music to his ears.

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Something silly and happy for today... :)