Cilady was a very small town. I don’t mean one of those not-so-well-known ones, I mean tiny. The nearest city was 47 minutes away. The only leisure venue in town was a cinema. This cinema was the town’s pride and joy. It was a very nice cinema and, due to the original owner being some thrice removed cousin of Walt Disney, they were allowed to show the films a week before they officially arrived in cinemas. A new film was released called The Massacre and it was the most hyped up film of the century. Paul felt that he had been drifting away from his wife, Penelope, recently, so of course he took her to see a romantic murder mystery.
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As soon as they came out of the theatre, Paul had a brainwave.
“We should go to Chelsea’s Halloween party as the couple from The Massacre!” Chelsea held a Halloween party every year, and made everyone dress up.
“Ok, but where are we going to get the costumes?” replied Penelope
“Well I have a tuxedo, and you have a similar coloured dress, so all we need is a chainsaw!” Paul said excitedly.
“We can ask Rich!” Penelope cried enthusiastically. Paul’s face dropped faster than a metal weight being dropped from a height. Paul did not like Rich. Rich was a perfect dad. He did DIY, could actually carry his children, had lots of family time, worked in a bank, could help with Fourth Grade math, and could tell stories which weren’t cringey. He could do everything.
“There is no way in the whole wide world that I’m going to admit to Rich that I do not own a chainsaw.” said Paul, stubbornly.
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Five minutes later, Paul found himself staring at Rich’s doorknob. He knocked. He heard the key in the lock. He saw him! Rich stood there, in his right arm he was feeding a 3 month old baby, and in his other hand was holding his toddler’s hand. Paul saw a four-year-old peeping out from a hiding place.
“Hello, what a lovely, unexpected visit! Sorry for the state of the house, Meera has been away for two weeks.” said Rich. Meera was Rich’s wife. Paul stared across the house at the pristine floors and clear windows. He nodded.
“Hi Rich, I was wondering if I could borrow your chainsaw for today?” asked Paul, hoping for no more questions.
“Of course! What’s wrong with yours? Why do you need it?” said Rich, much to Paul’s dismay.
“Umm… I… I… I broke mine doing some extremely difficult woodwork.” replied Paul boldly. He walked away briskly before any more questions could be asked.
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The next day, Penelope woke up and decided to try on her costume. She made her way downstairs and saw it, lying on the kitchen countertop.
“Paul!” she yelled, angrily. Paul came running downstairs and took in the scene. Their three-year-old daughter holding a, now empty, packet of stick-on gems with ‘Super Sticky!’ written on them, and the chainsaw. The gems were stuck all around the rim.
“Oh no! What are we going to do about the chainsaw!” Paul exclaimed.
“The chainsaw? The chainsaw? You are worried about the chainsaw? What about the fact that you let our three-year-old daughter have access to a chainsaw?” cried Penelope, outraged. Paul knew there was only one thing for it.
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Five minutes later he found himself staring at a now very familiar doorknob. He knocked and again, Rich opened the door. Paul could see a half-built bookshelf, with what looked like a very complicated set of instructions, a barbie doll with a hot glued hand drying at the window, and a sheet of algebra in his hand.
“Hi, what can I help you with?” asked Rich
“Do you have any sort of product for removing very sticky things?” asked Paul, cautiously.
“You know what, I’ll just come over!” replied Rich. Paul’s face fell. He trudged home with Rich jogging in front of him.
Once they arrived, they went inside. Upon seeing Rich, Penelope’s eyes lit up.
“So, where’s the woodwork shed?” asked Rich.
“The woodw… oh, he’s been pretending again, hasn’t he. Well, Rich, the truth is we needed the chainsaw for a dress-up party, and our daughter has covered it in Paul’s sticky jewel stickers.” Rich started laughing hysterically. To Paul, it sounded like a hyena’s cackle, echoing around the room.
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Once again, Paul found himself staring at the doorknob. But this time, he was waiting for Rich. After about two minutes, he appeared holding a mysterious bottle of brown liquid. The first thing Paul noticed about this tube was the bold black lettering saying:
Not for: Children under 6 years
Paul was contemplating the fact that, since he let his 3-year-old daughter get hold of a chainsaw, keeping this tube in the house might be a bit dangerous, when Rich asked for some help. Paul looked over and saw him stumbling down the road holding 5 metres squared of plastic furniture covering, 3 buckets of utensils, and the tube. Paul leaned over and reached for the tube. Their eyes locked and Rich raised his eyebrows. Paul immediately realised what was going on.
“You don’t think I’m mature enough to carry the tube, do you?” asked Paul, offended. Rich handed it over and Paul proceeded to start a rant about how mature he was. Roughly 10 seconds after having gained possession of the liquid, he dropped it and it started rolling down the hill. The hyena started up again.
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That evening, Penelope and Paul received many compliments on their costumes, but Paul wasn’t aware of most of them. He had spent most of the evening dying of embarrassment in Chelsea’s bathroom, as Penelope had decided to share with everyone at the party the story I just shared with you.