Enjoy, my peeps! 'Nuff said. Moonray out!

Part 2 Bambi

My legs cheer as I walk in the front door, the tired sticks that they are. Kicking of my boots, I grab an ice pack and a bowl of ice cream from our fridge, what with I plop down onto the couch. The ache in my legs is muted one I start icing them, and the ice cream doesn't hurt. I fumble for the clicker, and to complete my vision of fantasy I just turn to whatever's on TLC, lay back, and relax. Though of course, right when I was getting comfortable, the phone rang. Irritated, I muted the TV and grabbed for the phone (it used to be in the kitchen, but knowing Bambi, who always calls when I'm in my happy place, moved it next to the couch). I didn't bother to check the caller ID, and answered in my "happy, sweet voice" I use with Bambi at times like this.

"What do you want Bambi?"

"Hey Shae!" she trilled in her all too happy voice.

"Mmph."

"So, how was it at Oscar's?" (She dances at Oscar's too).

"I think she may be permanently red now"

"Hmm, I thought if she ever changed color, it would be to green."

"Ha ha, very funny. Seriously, why did you call?"

"Are you busy today?"

"No, why do you ask?"

"My parents are on an overnight trip to Phoenix for their anniversary, and I need a place to stay until 8 pm tomorrow, so can I come over?"

"Bambi, where are you calling from?"

"Nowhere," She mumbled as I walked to my living room window.

"I can see you crouching underneath the window!"

"So is that a yes?"

"Just get inside!"

I unlocked the front door and seconds later, Bambi Hathaway walked in. It's kind of ironic that her name is Bambi, with those gigantic blue doe eyes of hers. She has long, blond, straight hair, is a few inches taller than me, and has that Californian sun-kissed tinge to her skin. Yeah, she's pretty much the stereotypical Santa Barbra girl. Though she doesn't overly flaunt it, so it doesn't bother me. Her house is on the next street down, but she practically lives here. Not kidding, after waving hi to me, she asked "What's for lunch?" walked into our kitchen, and started rummaging through the fridge. I ran to stick the phone back on its base (and collected my ice cream bowl and ice packs) then strolled nonchalantly back into the kitchen. As I walked in, I found Bambi eating half a cold turkey sandwich with orange juice. My turkey sandwich! That I was coming in to eat! Wow, so considerate.

I slid into the seat opposite her, watching enviously at my stolen turkey sandwich, so what do you think I did? I took a butter knife from out of silverware drawer, took the sandwich, cut off the bitten part, then ate it. The non-bitten part, I mean.

"Hey! I was eating that!" she bawled

"Well I was saving that to eat right now!"

"Well I got to it first!"

"Well it's my house!"

Pouting, she stood up and returned to the fridge, finally digging out the ravioli we had last night. She brought it to the table, and dug in. "You know," she mumbled, "I really do prefer Turkey."

When my mom came in around 20 minutes later, Bambi and I were finished with our lunch, and playing a game we created called "Chicken Dance." Derived from the original game "chicken," where you do embarrassing things off of a diving board, chicken dance is where you challenge your counterpart(s) to do an embarrassing (but still appropriate) dance in front of your house, in full view of the neighbors. The rules are simple; if you do the dance, you get to make up one for your partner. If you don't, you have to spin around in a circle, flapping your "wings" yelling chicken. See? Easy as pie, or as I should say, easy as chicken. Anyway, I just finished making up a dance for Bambi, which included jazz hands, crazy legs, and some Broadway showtune dancing, when my mom came back from our neighbor's house. She was just chatting to our next door neighbor, Mrs. Hatoyma. Mrs. Hatoyma has 3 kids, 2 of them little boys. It's a wonder how she gets any sleep. Well, Bambi had started to perform her dance, swaying back and forth, jazz hands in motion, when my mom reached our driveway. She said hello to Bambi then went back into our house. Like I said, Bambi is a staple in our house, just like baking soda. So, it wasn't a huge surprise to see her here. Frankly, I think my mom was more surprised by what we were doing than the fact that Bambi was here. As my Mom made her way back into the house, I turned back around just in time to see her finish the dance with a big jazz finish. Let me tell you, it took all my willpower just to not to fall over laughing. Yep, I'm just that good a choreographer.