The Suspicious Box

I stowed the last of the groceries in the trunk. My mind was racing with all the things I had left to do. I turned on the radio in an attempt to drown out the ever growing to do list being generated in my mind.

"When did Whoopie get into radio?" I accidentally blurted out.

"She's had this show for a few months now," my daughter chimed in very matter of factly.

"Oh, I guess I need to get out more!" I added and we both laughed.

The fresh bread and rolls I had picked up for the gathering were filling the car with the most incredible aroma . Of course, neither of us had eaten anything before we left this morning.

"That's it!" I said, tired of fighting that heavenly smell, "Break open those rolls and get us one to share."

"Sure!" she gladly complied.

We pulled up to the house, chewing on heavenly fresh rolls while being totally lost in that new song by Green Day. As I was going to throw open the door I was stopped in my tracks by a police officer.

"You'll have to move this vehicle Ma'am," the patrolman said.

"Huh... what...this is my house...what is going on?" I blathered, totally confused.

"There's been a report of a suspicious box and we're waiting for the Special Tactics Unit to arrive.... Lady, look, you have to move this car!"

I parked on the other side of the street just beyond the barriers that I had not seen until just now.

"Special Tactics Unit? Isn't that PC for bomb squad?" my daughter asked.

"Yes, honey, I think it is." I replied, trying to appear calm.

I became painfully aware that I only thought my mind was racing before. Now there was a veritable cyclone in there. ( where were the boys... was everyone safe... were they able to wake their comatose Dad and on and on and on...)

This time the police were not so polite. "Where do you think you're going?" the red haired, flack vested officer bellowed.

"To my house to check on my husband and other children?" I said sheepishly.

"ID, please," was his only response.

I fumbled through my purse, my nerves and growing panic making it imposible to see my own hands, let alone my wallet. My daughter, seeing my condition, reached into my purse and handed the officer my license from my wallet. I guess the calm composed thing really wasn't working.

"OK, Mrs Smith, you can go through, but stay on the east side of the street.Under no circumstances are you to approach your house until the Special Tactics Unit has given the all clear."

Oh my God, they're here for my house. Just as I was about to become a complete and total blithering idiot; the baby yelled for me and my husband screamed out one of his quirky, absolutely not funny jokes.

I was about to ask when my son appeared holding two bird cages. Yes, they even saved the birds. Rocky, Oberon and Tatanya were safe, sound and absolutely loving all the noise and commotion.

Alright then, the role has been called and everyone is present and accounted for.
"Now, will someone please tell me what the hell is going on here?" I said, with a strange combination of frustration and relief.

There rose an awful clatter as all six of the boys and my husband began to speak at once. "Wait, wait, one at a time." I pleaded "Why don't you tell me, hon?"

"Well..." he began in his usual long drawn out fashion "there was this box on the porch and the boys swear they saw steam coming from it..."

"Yeah." My oldest son chimed in "It was a one foot square box and there was most assuredly steam coming from it."

"Did you tell her about the buzzing?" The elder of the twins added quickly.

"It wasn't buzzing, dork, it was ticking." Another son corrected swiftly.

By this point there was steam coming from my husband's ears. He hates to be interrupted. A bad trait for someone prone to pregnant pauses.

"May I finish now?" He barked "There was this box and it was steaming...I wasn't willing to..."

He was interrupted, yet again, this time by the Special Tactics Unit. They rolled onto the block and emerged from the armored truck like lava from Krakatoa. The whole neighborhood was in the street watching the spectacle.

They approached the porch in some standard formation or another and placed a leaded bucket-like apparatus over the box. They then used a robotic device to transport it back to their truck.

Thinking this was the end of the excitement, I heaved a long sigh of relief and headed for the porch. I was immediately surrounded. "Stop, you can't go anywhere near the home until the Unit gives the all clear, Stop Ma'am!" The flack vested officers shouted in unison.

So there we stood, looking at our house and waiting. It was then that I remembered all the groceries in the 120+ degree car...that to do list, oh no it was all coming back to me now. There would be 100 of our 'closest friends and relatives' swarming all over the house tomorrow and there was still so much left to do. I still had to pick up a few things for the dessert table and I wonder if the fudge came... "Oh my God, the fudge... Stephen, did you happen to notice where that box came from?" I asked hoping I was wrong.

"Yeah, Salmon, somewhere, why?"

I was instantly mortified. "Could it have been Salmon, Idaho?' I asked

"Yeah, how did you know that?" he asked, still totally clueless.

All of a sudden our conversation was obliterated by an enormous bang. Immediately after which there was a relay of "All clear" which had begun at the Special Tactics Units vehicle.

"Because, that was our Spud Fudge they just blew up." I answered

With that we all headed to the car and began carrying the groceries into the house. We never, ever spoke of that Fudge again.