One peaceful night in bed with my husband, while discussing the aggravations of work, kids’ schedules, doctor’s appointments, and all of the other things of mundane adult life, I noticed an interesting pattern on my comforter that I had never noticed before. In the middle of my sentence about something drab, I stopped… ” Is that a tiny vagina on the pattern of the comforter???”
Without looking at it or being at all shocked by my outburst, Omar said, “Yes. Yes it is.” This lets me know that he must’ve noticed the tiny vagina all along but never said anything. I continued to look and I spot another, and another. In the grey areas of the paisley print there were fancy, stylized little vagina shaped décor. Omar proceeded to tell me the entire bedspread was covered in vaginas of all shapes and colors actually, and he noticed it a long time ago. Of course a man would notice he sleeps under a blanket of vagina every night. Sure enough, they are everywhere. It’s like I’ve been laying under the Georgia O’Keefe bedding collection for years!
“Why didn’t you tell me?! Now every night I’m going to think about the fact that there are varied and colorful vaginas everywhere! I think I need a new comforter.”
After a brief silence he says, “Well I can’t very well rip up the tile in the bathroom that looks like a ninja bunny staring at me every time I use the bathroom.”
WHAAAATTT?! Apparently in the stone tile in our downstairs bathroom, a ninja bunny torments Omar every time he uses the bathroom. I have never seen this bunny and was intrigued, but at 11:00 at night, I am less inclined to go down the stairs for a strange bathroom Rorschach test to see if I can spot the bunny in the lines of the stone. I called his bluff when he said he wanted me to go look at it, “You’re too lazy to go downstairs to show me.”
“You’re right but because you just said that, let’s go! Come see my ninja bunny!” as he leaped from bed and hurried down the stairs.
So there we were, late at night (because 11:00pm is super late to me), on the bathroom floor staring at a tile trying to find his Teenage Mutant Ninja Bunny.
“Can’t you see it?”
“Look right here. There’s the eyes. There’s the nose. And then this is his arm and the Nunchucks.”
“I don’t see any of that.”
“Its right there. See? I see him every time.”
“Maybe if I sit on the toilet from the view you’d normally see him, then I’ll see him”
As I headed to the toilet I strained my eyes to see this ninja bunny, I begin to think There ain’t no damn bunny. Maybe he needs medication. Or a vacation. We are only 33 and he’s losing it already. I squint a little harder.
“No it’s the whole bunny! He’s looking right at you!” Deflated he said, “You don’t see it.”
“No, no I don’t. Were you high in here?”
“Of course not! You just aren’t creative enough or smart enough to see the Teenage Mutant Ninja Bunny… and I’m going to bed now!”
Now I look for that damn bunny every time I use the bathroom and I can never find him. Its like a strange version of Where’s Waldo. It has totally invaded and ruined my bathroom experience. This still doesn’t solve what I’m going to do about the plethora of vaginas printed on my bed…