Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: SMEAR (03/10/16)
- TITLE: Chamelon Revenge
By M. C. Syben
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Buzz. I can’t stand flies so I shield my sleepy self with a pillow. The annoying experience reminds me of an episode from years ago with my best friend, Debbie…
Whop! I awoke to that sound followed by a few expletives.
‘Can I get back to sleep or should I ask?’ I debated with myself.
“Good morning to you, too, Debbie.” Usually, my first roommate was a perfect one. I worked nights. She worked days. On weekends, she left the townhome early or, respectfully, tiptoed about until I woke up.
“Sorry,” she screamed.
I had to ask. “What are you doing?”
“Freaking lizard got in. It’s hiding around the washer and dryer.” (just outside my bedroom door)
I loved all God’s critters, except flies. I detested flies the way Debbie loathed the chameleons that populated our marsh front deck on Amelia Island, Florida. But, I felt a cute tropical lizard deserved saving.
‘To the rescue,’ I decided too slowly.
Whop! “Got it.” Her hard-sole shoe landed before my feet hit the floor.
I was miffed. “For goodness sakes, it wouldn’t have hurt you.”
“Don’t be such a bleeding heart.”
Debbie donned an oven glove to pick up the flattened remains. Victoriously, she tossed it in the underbrush outside—no remorse.
I warned her. “Just remember, girlfriend, what goes around, comes around.”
“What? You think someone is likely to attack me with a shoe?”
A few hours later, I hopped into Debbie’s car; it was beach time. As my murderous roommate turned her head to back up, I began to laugh. A fearless chameleon had peeked up over the hood and darted toward us.
“Debbie, you aren’t going to believe this…”
“You’ve got to be kidding.” Hate filled her eyes.
“Stay off the windshield!” I willed a telepathic message to the endangered creature who might have the same fate as the myriad of bugs and their innards that obscured our view. Love bugs, bees, whatever, my roomie’s wipers did them in.
Sure enough, Debbie’s hand rested on the lever waiting for the perfect time to turn on the blades.
“Now, Debbie, don’t smoosh it.”
“I told you. I hate lizards.”
Bent on revenge, the green warrior leapt onto the glass aimed towards the driver’s side. Debbie flicked her weapons on but instead of squashing, they gave the attacker a push to the body of the car, close to Debbie’s window.
“Well, at least it’s gone,” Debbie said, unaware of its proximity.
“I wouldn’t be too sure of that,” I giggled.
Beady gecko eyes peeked over the outside rearview mirror. Determined, it followed the attachment to the car.
“Seriously?” Debbie gasped and quickly wound up her window. She jerked the car over, threw on the hand brake, and began peeling off her sandal.
‘Not again. Not on my watch.’ I sprang out of the car and circled behind the critter as Debbie sneakily opened her door—her expression warlike. The chameleon froze but glared back at the monster who had already slaughtered one of its own.
I took advantage of the standoff. Just before it pounced, with the intent to rip Debbie’s throat out, I cupped my hand over it, sheltering it from the sandal that was poised over my roomie’s head.
“Not this time, girlfriend.”
The lizard felt cold but soft. His skin had paled against the white car. I grasped it between my thumb and forefinger inspecting the cute, teeny mouth that opened in a silent roar.
“Don’t worry, sweetie. I won’t hurt you.” I placed the vengeful warmonger on a clump of Pampas grass.
Debbie slammed her door; she was not happy. “Lizard lover.”
“Now, Debbie, be thankful you don’t have Gecko guts schmeared all over your car. Besides, there are plenty more of them out there. Word will spread. You are a marked woman. I suggest you call a truce,” I laughed.
“Very funny.” Debbie actually shivered. “I hate lizards.”
For over thirty years, Debbie and I kept in touch no matter the change in marital status or Geographic’s. We remained kindred spirits. I know her lizard hatred never waned while I continued detesting flies.
Debbie died a few years ago, her exterminating days over. I’m sure the chameleons celebrated. Still, I welcome them. They stir up pleasant memories.
I’ll never forget Deb or the smear of trophies on the windshield. My friend was bright, artistic, and business talented, but she just hated lizards.
Buzz. Whack! “Got it.”
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