My Sneaky-Sneaky Fail
Last Saturday I thought I’d get up early and surprise Mike by being oh so sneaky-sneaky and making him biscuits and gravy. I don’t get to do things like that very often, because Mike is a very light sleeper, which is a great trait in a gunslinger, but less so in an anxiety-ridden suburban husband. Waking up to find him peering out the window mumbling “Ja hear that?” because a squirrel burped can cut into a girl’s beauty sleep.
A Quick Guide to Not Being Sneaky-Sneaky
I like to start any sneaky-sneaky project by swinging my legs out of bed, directly on to the dog I didn’t know was sleeping beside me, causing the room to fill with the melodious sounds of scrabbling nails and elbow bones thudding to the floor as Gordon scrambles out from under me. That done, I gather up the clothes on which he was sleeping, and creep out of the room on my old wooden floors, which squeak like a hairless cat trying to hump a balloon.
Can’t start a sneaky-sneaky biscuit making project without first making coffee, so I put the dishtowel over the coffee grinder, lowering that noise from ‘jet engine’ to ‘industrial walnut sheller.’ I should get some sort of sneaky-sneaky merit badge for that alone.
Next, I open the clattering oven drawer to pull out the sheet pans. I reach for the Pam so the biscuits won’t stick, but my hands are still asleep so I knock it off the top shelf and it falls first on my head, then to the counter. In a fumbling panic to catch it before it rolls off the granite, I instead spike it violently to the tile floor.
I freeze, and assure myself this happens to ninjas in training all the time.
The dog demands to get the paper, so I quietly open the front door to let him out. That’s when I notice a really cool moon just over the trees across the street and run to get my camera, my artistic drive dampened only by the metal kitchen chair leg I boot with my big toe like I was hoping to score a field goal with it. Hopping and hissing curses, I get the camera, only to find the battery dead.
Did you know biscuits make a big popping noise when you twist open the little tube they’ve been squirted into?
Biscuits finally in the oven, I sink into a chair, my sneaky-sneaky breakfast attack done.
Suddenly, it sounds like someone just hit a car hood with a sledge hammer. The heating biscuit sheet has twisted into a new shape with a teeth-rattling snap. I’m still holding my hand over my heart, panting, when Mike shuffles in and asks me if I’ve been adding an addition to the house.
Here’s John Turturro’s brilliant sneaky-sneaky butler in Mr. Deeds, to show you how it should be done.
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