I did not have many opportunities for mischief during the gaming weekend, though I did see to it that the rum cake the human female made turned out well enough that, by popular demand, she made a second one the very next day. Ehehehe! She got to do the dishes twice!
I started really putting some effort into it on the return journey. First, I arranged a massive tie-up on the interstate coming home. We spent an hour crawling like a lazy, lobotomized snail because four lanes had been mooshed into one, an undertaking made even more frustrating by the entire lack of signage. By the time traffic was flowing again, the human female was too late to teach the class she had offered that night and had to send emails and cancel and drag out the misery for her students.
Oh, and I also hid the human male’s favorite plushy-soft sweatshirt in the room we stayed in, so he arrived home without it.
But I did not stop there! Oh, no, not I!
Someone who attended the gaming weekend brought along some….. um, unusual, yes, let us say, “unusual”… beverages and did not take them with him when he left. Thus, the hosts (the Blue-haired Godddaughter’s parents) offered to divide the spoils with the humans. There was an assortment of ales and lagers, and the humans were supposed to get some of each kind, but I couldn’t allow that to happen. Oh no, not I!
When the humans examined the contents of the drink-can-carrier they had fetched all the way from the Big City to the North, all six cans had “inexplicably” turned into the same thing. Except for this one I slipped in:
Yes, O reader, it is exactly what it says it is. Even my twisted imagination couldn’t have dreamt this up.
Now, I grant you that pickled cucumbers are tasty and have their place, and there are some who find drinking the dilly brine straight from the jar refreshing, but the humans are not among them. I threw the can in just for my own amusement. The look on their faces is—
By Thor’s bitty ball-peen, the female is actually going to taste it! She’s doing it! She’s doing it! Augh, there she goes!
Oh. That look is even better! In her own words,
“It truly smells like pickles, and you can taste the vinegar and dill. But it is also salty, and 99.7% of the population is going to gag.”
Guess she’s part of the 0.3% because she’s keeping it down, and–
Oh, sweet Frigga’s curly up-do, she’s taking a second sip to see if it’s really as vile as it seemed at first go.
Surprise, surprise, you idiot. It really is. All you were meant to do was shudder at the can and the idea, but you–! You have no one to blame but yourself.