I'm back! It's been a long friggin time, but I'm back! Being away from the computer for three months can do a lot to a person, including giving them a complete inspiration, which I received when I moved back to Oklahoma. Hidden Pleasures will totally be redone and I hope everyone likes the new story.

Hidden Pleasures – Shake What Your Momma Gave You!

In every photograph of myself, from my birth to the age of ten, I have been smiling. I was a happy kid and loved to show that fact at every available opportunity. But at the age of ten, I met Ralphie Johnson. He wasn't a mean child, or even a bully. He just liked to make my life miserable and my life only. But I kept up the smiles and the happy-go-lucky attitude. And then one day I kicked him in the shin. For no apparent reason, for that matter.

The next day, his friends surrounded me; their fists balled and their frowns plastered. They created a tight circle around me and were ready to beat me to a bloody pulp. But I had been prepared. Lying deep within my dress pocket was a tennis ball connected to a short strand of rubber band tied tightly around my palm. The first kid came at me and I tossed my weapon into action. It gave him a mere bloody nose and before I knew it, a lanky brunette was at my side, throwing threats left and right. I backed out into a shadowy corner, away from the other kids and from my new best friend and bodyguard. The tennis ball was still in my grip and I began to slowly realize what had just taken place. I made someone bleed. I hurt them intentionally.

In complete and utter fear, I turned on my heel and found the most secluded area of the playground and dug ferociously in the dirt. After a hole was made, I placed the tennis ball and rubber band inside and buried it; never to look upon it again. That day at the playground, another person had taken over. Someone who didn't care about people, just herself. It was someone I didn't ever want to meet again. And since I've met Dusty, that person never reappeared. I returned to my cheery self, the person I liked and knew. I returned to the regular Becky. Even when I refused to wear nothing but black, a smile was still spread across my face. And, for awhile, the ten year old problem child was lost to the world. I never told anyone about it because I saw no reason to alarm anyone. It was a one-time deal. But time has a way of coming back and kicking you in the ass…

"It's not going to stain, Becky." Famous last words. I winced as my coworker dabbed a bit of the minty green cream over my skin. In every scary movie you always hear 'nothing's going to happen' or 'everything will be okay'. And then what happens? Every teenager within a ten-mile radius gets turned into puppy chow. I crinkled up my nose in disgust.

"It smells like my grandma…" Ninny, the receptionist and my new facial mask advisor grinned at my remark. It wasn't meant to be funny, for it really did smell like my grandma. Not a bad thing, but not great either. "What is this stuff supposed to do anyway?" Ninny flicked a small crimson curl away from her face and blew a sugary pink bubble with her gum.

"I dunno exactly. Maybe it cleans your pores…or something." Or…something. Great. I'm going to be puppy chow. A small ring from the door tossed me off the front desk and Ninny into the receptionist chair. KayMahoney Travels is usually pretty busy during this time of year – except on Mondays – hence the extreme makeover from Ninny. I quickly sprinted into my corner office to await the customer. Now, there is something you must know about my line of work. I am NOT a travel agent. I am a certified photographer employed by the company to create brochures and billboards that promote the company and the ideal vacation. I also travel for other companies in association with KayMahoney Travels and take numerous pictures. Except on Mondays. Mondays…I'm a travel agent.

Within minutes I could hear the soft pitter-patter of flea market sandals and the swishing of a nylon handbag carrying crochet supplies. Mrs. McGritter. For the three years that I've worked here, a short little woman from east Indiana comes waltzing into the building with the intention of booking a vacation to Idaho on the third Monday of every month. She plans to stay in the state for two weeks and then return to New Orleans. This is about all one can know about Mrs. McGritter. I hastily rub off any extra pore cleanser and stuff the peach towel under my rear, for I am a photographer, not a travel agent, and my employers seem to believe that a desk with drawers is unsuitable for a photographer.

"Good morning Mrs. McGritter! Are we to make the usual arrangements?" I watched the old woman smile before digging in her bag for her checkbook.

"Yes, but I want the cheapest rate this time. I had a different girl the last time I was here and the harlot ripped me off." Hmmm. The only person who works the desk besides me Sandra but she's usually in the back screwing around…Mrs. McGritter then leans in, her hand hiding her face away from Ninny and the rest of the Monday workers, and says "And you know what really warms my buns?" Actually, I could live the rest of my life without knowing that. "I think the little hussy was in the back room…FORNICATING." Okaaaay, flipping through the mental dictionary for the word 'fornication' or 'fornicate'. Bringing up synonyms: Californication – Red Hot Chili Peppers. Let's see here…oh. OH! Yep, that would be Sandra.

"Well, Mrs. McGritter. I will take you to Drew this time. He's a wonderful agent and I'm sure he will get you the cheapest rate to Idaho." I guided her along the row of decorated desks to a heavyset man in his forties – slightly balding.

"I mean it. I want the best rate, otherwise I'll take my business to someone else."

"Not unless you croak first, you old bat", I mumbled through a smile. Oh my. Where in New York did THAT come from?

"Becky! You got a letter!" I recollected myself and made a mad dash for the front desk. Ninny was sitting on top of it, her high heels dangling in the air and swinging my letter in front of me.

"Who is it from?" I always ask this. Tie me up and call me Sally; I just don't trust the postal service.

"Don't know. But the penguins on the envelope are adorable!" Penguins? Say no more. I tear open the envelope and begin to scan over the intricate writing. Definitely Dusty's handwriting. "Well?" I pry myself from the letter to answer Ninny's question.

"It's about Shigure. He had an accident and Dusty wants all of us down there for him." I could feel tiny goosebumps building all over me. Shigure? In an accident? Dusty must be devastated. Of course, I failed to mention that Dusty wanted me to bring Andrew along as well. I crumpled up the stationary and asked Ninny to find someone to fill in for me. If I got fired, I got fired. Right now, my best friend needed me.

I drove along the highway, trying to keep my thoughts under control. I would book the first flight for Japan and then I would make sure everything was in order. I would have to clean out my refrigerator, find a kennel for Stimpy, my St. Bernard, and most importantly, check up on my passport. I could only pray that I could do all these things by the time I have to leave.

I pulled up into the driveway of the apartment complex and ran up the iron stairs to my tiny one bedroom paradise. My apartment is a quaint little piece of property, but I like to take pride in it. It's mostly covered with plants and decorative pieces of art. But it's mine. I was quickly greeted by the slobbering love of my life – a one year old St. Bernard that would never leave me because he was afraid of commitment. As soon as I spotted my cordless, I began to punch the number for the airport.

I had lucked out – incredibly. I was able to book a flight to Tokyo for tomorrow evening. Right after that, I checked my passport and found that it was still good for quite awhile. The refrigerator was a no-brainer. I have a dog, a big dog for that matter, that can and will eat anything and everything. I called up my parents to see if they could make out my prepared checks for bills and to see if they could watch my apartment as well. My mother was all for it. But when I made the mistake of mentioning a kennel for Stimpy, she hastily objected, claiming, "Kennels are almost as bad as nursing homes! You bring that dog over first thing in the morning!" She then asked to give her get well's to Dusty and Shigure. I could only pray that my dog would remain a Stimpy and not turn into a Cujo. By the end of the night, my bags were packed and my body exhausted.

The following morning, I threw on my most comfortable pair of jeans and took Stimpy over to my mom's. The goodbye was a sad one, almost like departing with a good friend. Actually, it mostly saying 'I miss you' and Stimpy drooling on my knee. But sad nonetheless. Before I knew it, I was loading the plane to go see my best friend. As I took my seat, I tried to think of an explanation as to why Andrew didn't come with me. I supposed a flashback is in need here.

Andrew had been the love of my life for a year until about a week ago. He claimed that he just wasn't the man for me and walked out, leaving me with a clumsy dog and a broken heart. I was planning on telling Dusty as soon as I got the chance, but work was overwhelming then and I was too embarrassed. I mean, the guy didn't even break up with me the right way. It wasn't to my face or even by phone. It was via post it note. Who breaks up with someone by a little piece of yellow paper!

I once wanted to come to Japan so that I could play 'Patty-Cake' with a Buddhist monk. I was naïve then, for now I want to go so that I may show off my PlaySation 2 skills and beat the heck out of them in 'Resident Evil'. I know my zombies. 'Patty-Cake'. What was I thinking? My trip is over and I make a quick call to Shigure's house to let Dusty know that I am in town, will fetch a cab, and meet her over at the writer's house. It's a short drive to the humble abode and I half expect someone to come out and meet me. I walk up to the door with caution, considering the last time I was over here was when I had interrogated Dusty and her lost virginity. Good times. It's cracked a bit and I stick my foot inside as a warning to anything slimy, slithery, furry, or in any way creepy to me and my foot. When I come inside, I find the lights turned out and the house as a silent as a mouse. Mouse. Yuki better pray to everything holy that I find the lights soon. I hear a small noise and before my brain can register the situation, the lights flash on and almost every Sohma is standing right in front of me. Well, almost every one of them.

"HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!" Oh no.