After a recent brush with local tornadoes, my husband and I simultaneously placed mail orders for surviving any upcoming disasters we may encounter.
Me: Honey, we got two huge deliveries in the mail today. The box addressed to you is heavy, has been inspected by the NSA and is wearing camouflage.
Him: Oh great, the supplies I ordered from the Preppers website came.
Me: Ugh. Izod is so 1983.
Him: (Opening the really big box.) Not preppie—“Prepper.” You know like those people who prepare for an impending doomsday?
Me: I prefer to be called a Progressive. But whatever.
Him: (Ignoring my passive-aggressive politics.) With that tornado that touched down this week, I thought we should have more emergency supplies on hand.
Me: (Inspecting the contents.) Just how long do you think tornadoes last because you’ve got enough nonperishable food here for months.
Him: 2 months worth for 10 people to be exact.
Me: Is there a weather phenomenon that renders your tastebuds useless because I’m not sure the circumstances that would make me want to eat a pouch of creamed chipped beef.
Him: That will be a luxury if the power goes out for more than an hour.
Me: (Unimpressed.) An hour-long power outage would be the luxury if you couldn’t order from weird websites.
Him: (Checking out the 5 gallon drum of apple cobbler.) What was that, dear?
Me: I said, good thinking. (Inspecting one of the bags.) Um, what are these pouches of purified drinking water?
Him: In case there’s no fresh water supply, duh. And if we run out of those I have tablets to turn our urine into safe drinking water.
Me: (Horrified.) If we are ever in situation where we’re considering drinking human waste is a good idea I hope there’s cyanide tablets in there too because I’m out.
Him: Here’s a campstove made from a pie tin and a fire pit that needs no matches, but I also got waterproof ones just in case.
Me: The future looks grim.
Him: The future looks prepared. (Looking over at my ordered box.) What did you order for the emergency cause?
Him: (Opening my box. Coughing, choking, and then what appears to be sobbing.) You ordered a case of margarita glasses?
Me: (Backing out of the room.) We all have our coping mechanisms.
Him: (Disgusted.) I’m taking this stuff downstairs.
Me: (Apologetically.) The glasses are shatterproof…
© 2017 Tracey Henry