Lightbulb (story)

In The Words of Dr. Gru "Lightbulb!"

"Honey!" (that's what she calls me when she wants me to do something) "If you're not doing anything, (if you spent five minutes talking to her about...??..oh let's say purses, she would tell you I'm never doing anything) could you change the lightbulb over the bathroom vanity?"
"Sure no problem, I'll phone the electrician!"
"Good, can you phone the plumber too, and have him put the toilet seat down as well, Mr. Wise Bottom!"
And with those sweet parting words the wife heads out the door to work. Which, gives me ten hours to change the lightbulb.
I have found with lightbulbs the easiest way to tell if they need replacing is to turn them on. 'CLICK' Immediately I feel my body heat up. My eyes squint in all it's eight, no, seven, 75 watt, clear globe splendor. This must be what God looks like!
I hold my hands to my eyes as if looking at the sun and with superior intellect surmise its the second bulb on the right. I power down and grab her 'Voluptuous, Full, Valentine Red' lip grease and draw an arrow at the bulb and write 'Replace this one as all the other 8, no, 7 work just fine'. And then I sign my name with what was left in the tube.
As I make my way across the 16 acre parking lot of the not-so-local do-it-yourself super store of everything that every wife's been nagging every man on earth about, I try to remember the number of watts on the lightbulb. Well if I can't remember I'll just get something that just looks like it.
WRONG! There is nothing in the 80ft. isle of illumination that comes anywhere close to what looks like a clear, double digit watt-ed globe bulb. All the bulbs look like DNA sequences! Squiggles and turns and loops of frosted glass that cost more than my lunch at McDonalds!
"No sir, we don't carry any incandescent bulbs anymore." said the man I had to track down in the orange shirt. "They've been banned by the government, for being an inefficient user of energy. It's against the law to sell the bulb you're looking for."
"So what do I do, buy eight new DNA sequences because of one bulb?"
"If you'd like to borrow my phone sir to call the wife...."
"Why,...do you think I can't make this decision on my own?"
He shrugged his shoulders, held out two open palms and raised his eyebrows. It was then I noticed every guy in the store was on a cell phone. Professionals! They did a lot of things around the house, and knew how to do it right. Ask the wife. Well not me, I have a greater IQ than my bulb had watts.
"PSSST...PSSST" I turned to see a guy in the next isle over had parted boxes of light fixtures and was trying to get my attention by forcing air between his teeth. "You looking for candy? Bright clear candy?" He whisper shouted at me. "Bright hot candy?"
I pointed my finger at myself, stuck my chin on my chest and in my best DeNero said "You talking to me?" He wiggled an excited index finger at me and motioned with pull on his head to follow him. Sure, why not. At the very least I'll get candy or at the very worst I'll be able to report a pervert is on the loose in isle 57.
It's out the doors and off to a far corner of the parking lot. I somewhat question my decision after having walked five minutes past my car. He stops at a old blue Chevy van with curtains on the windows. I'm thinking I'm not getting candy. He slides open the rusted side door and looks around the lot as he's doing so. I'm now thinking intervention! Has the wife paid this guy to abduct me and rush me off to some sort of place to reprogram my dependency for candy?
"Behold" he commands as he slowly waves his arm across boxes of incandescent bulbs of every shape and wattage. "C A N D Y" he slowly breathes. "In-CANDE-sent.. CANDY. Bright, clear and oh so hot CandyBulbs."
I'm now standing at the crossroad of my life. Do I commit this crime and illuminate my dark side for wanting a brighter tomorrow. Will I always be looking over my shoulder in fear of being called a nar - do -well for just wanting one matching lightbulb?
"If you'd like to borrow my phone sir to call the wife..."
"This is between you,.....and me" I state through clenched teeth, doing my best Clint Eastwood. "I'll take a kilo, .....no 1000 kilos!" I quickly insert, with now a Mexican accent, and not knowing how much a kilo is.
"Whoa Italian Western Cowboy! Easy on the reins. I sell buy the box. Four to the box."
"I'll take one box then." I slowly whisper as I cross that line between right and wrong.
"If you're caught, this never happened, you do not know of me. Tell them it's for your grandkids Easy Bake Oven. It's still legal to buy a full load of triple digit wattage if you bake with a bulb in a plastic oven. I have many Easy Bake Oven Schools all over North America. Nobody gets burnt! It's how I get my stock of Candy.
My phone alerts me I have a call from home. "Hello?...Oh hi Honey ( I call her that when I've done something....she gets a lot of being called honey) Whats that? The bathroom mirror? Lip gloss?.....Could of been the electrician......my signature?
This was followed by 3 1/2 minutes of me saying yes honey, no honey and you're absolutely right honey while coiling myself into a fetal position on the ground under the van. She hangs up and I collect what dignity I had left and inform the nice man with the blue van that I will not be needing any Candy today....thank-you. My lovely wife has seen a picture in the do-it-yourself book of weekends that stretch into months, that she would like me to purchase. An energy efficient cost saving light fixture to hang over the bathroom vanity.
"Hey Gringo if you'd like to borrow my phone..." (he shouts but is incomplete in its full statement as he can't hold back from laughing). His laughter pokes at my ears as I reach the car then take the extra three minute more to walk back to the store.


Bob Niles
604-761-2466