Story #20: "Anybody's Guess?"

It's Day 24 of my #astoryaday June Writing Challenge, and once again I'm a few stories behind. It's my goal today to catch back up. Here's Story #20, and #21 will shortly follow it. Hope you're able to get something out of it, though what that will be is...wait for it...anybody's guess.  ~  JH

"Anybody's Guess?"

Excuse me, folks, could I have your attention, please? Thank you. No, actually, I'm not yelling. Now, could you all gather – ? No, I'm speaking in a normal tone of voice. Now may I talk? No, I will not whisper. I demand to be heard! 

Yes, forgive me, that was slightly yelling. Regardless, I have a few questions for you all and I'm going to need some pretty specific answers. 

First off, what are you all doing here in my house? Considering the fact that I've never seen a single one of you before, I'm pretty sure you don't live here. So there's that. 

Secondly, will the owner of this pair of Guess jeans please identify yourself? Anybody? No? Well, they're obviously a lady's, so that rules out about half of you. Come on now, don't be afraid to speak up. I won't bite. Much. 

Oh, these are yours? Well, aren't you a cute thing? Come forward, dear, and collect your jeans. Yes, it's simply the strangest thing. You see, I found your jeans balled up at the foot of my bed, on my husband's side of the bed. Odd, huh? I tried to talk to him to get him to explain, but he's in pretty much the same state as you and your friends here. Which is to say, mostly incoherent. 

You know what else is strange, sweetie? When I leaned down to speak to him, I caught a whiff of a very distinct perfume on his chest. Your perfume. Well, I shouldn't assume. Let's compromise and say that it's the same kind of perfume you're currently wearing. Add to that the jeans by the bed, and well, I'm not a mathematician, but it all adds up.

No, of course, I'm not going to kill you, child. And you are a child, just look at you, what are you, nineteen, maybe twenty years old at most? Twenty-one? Sure you are, dear. Keep telling them that at the bars. I'm sure they'll buy your smile and your fake ID, you're certainly pretty enough. No, I'm not going to beat you up either, though it is tempting. I would like a few more minutes of your time, however. 

The rest of you can go ahead and clear out. NOW! It wasn't a request! Yes, I am yelling! And I'm only going to get louder the longer it takes you to leave! Thank you.

Now, dear, please come with me. We're going to wake my husband and get to the bottom of this. Why am I bringing you with me? Well, to wake him up, of course. After all – and again, I'm assuming, but the numbers still match up – you are the one who put him to sleep. 

How do I know? Well, sweetie, I've been married to the man for twenty-five years. I should certainly hope that I know what it takes to put him into as deep a slumber as that. One thing, and one thing only, works every time. And that smile on his sleeping face is a dead giveaway.