The Conspiracy, Part 7: The Bottom Of It

Another loud roar from the living room.

As I tried to get work done on Saturday night, I couldn't concentrate.  For some reason, there were a number of controlled explosions coming from the vicinity of the new television set.  I was jealous that others were getting a chance to enjoy the new fruit of my labors but work had to be done.

Still, I couldn't figure out why everyone was so into whatever was going on.  The Stanley Cup playoffs had not started yet.  No NBA playoffs.  My family isn't into the Minnesota high school scene for basketball or hockey.  Hell, my family could usually care less about sports unless it was Nate and the Golden State Warriors or Danielle and the Twins.

"Go Gonzaga!"

That was it.  I couldn't take it anymore.

"Wait, where are you going?"

Uggh, the fur-mutt.  Always bad timing.  Not really in the mood for a canine sparring session.

"I was going to get a drink."

"The good kind?"

"Not when I'm working." (although the thought had crossed my mind).  "What is all the commotion in the other room?"

"Mean game of Scrabble with your in-laws."

"Gonzaga?  In Scrabble?  I thought you couldn't use proper names?"

"It's the hardcore, no holds barred version.  Besides, do you know what it is worth when you use the Z?"

Ahh yes.  "And all your letters to boot..."

"There's only seven letters in Gonzaga."

"Your point?"  I was getting annoyed.

"Unless you are starting the game, you would need an eight-letter word to use all your lett..."

"Enough," the last thing I wanted was a Scrabble lesson--especially in relation to Gonzaga.  "Why are you here?"

"No reason.  Just checking on you."

That was suspicious.  "Since when did you care about my well-being?"

"Since you have been working a lot lately."  He was right--it has been a slog.

"Nothing else to do.  I'm pretty bored right now.  I don't remember being this bored in March before."

Chewy bristled.  Again, suspicious.  "You look really uncomfortable right now.  What happened to the Alpha Dog?  You usually have more self-confidence than the pit bull down the street.  In fact, you have more confidence than Pitbull on a Saturday night in the club.  What gives?"

"Nothing.  Uhhh, I have to go."

Wow.  I wish I knew what I did to hasten his exit.  That would be a formidable weapon in the future.

In his hurry to get away, I could hear his paws slip on the kitchen floor.  I mustered a smile but I couldn't laugh.

I was still bored.  And I had to figure out why.

TO BE CONTINUED