Hearts and Llamas (Chocolate Lovers #3.5)(2)

"A list? What the hell do you need a list for? What all are you buying her?" Drew asks in shock. "Awwww, man. You're totally going to make us look like dill weeds, aren't you?"

Jim unfolds the paper and flattens it on the table with the heel of his hand.

"No, the list isn't because I'm buying her a ton of shit and can't remember all of it. The list is from Liz. She told me exactly what I'm supposed to get her," he explains.

"Um, what? That doesn't sound very romantic to me," I tell him in confusion.

"Liz, sweetheart that she is, has come to realize that I suck when it comes to Valentine's Day. Every year she has this idea in her mind of what she wants me to do, and every year I completely f*ck it up. I ruin her day and she cuts me off from sex for a week. After an incident that happened four years ago with a pet llama for a day and floor seats to a Cavs game, I handed the reins over to her. A week before Valentine's Day she writes down exactly what I should do, and ever since she started doing that, I have had a stress-free holiday and lots of good sex," Jim explains.

"Dude, a pet llama? How in the f*ck could anyone hate that? That is just full of awesome right there," Drew tells him.

"Right? I thought so too," Jim complains. "I mean, Liz loves animals. And every time we're at the zoo she always goes to the petting part and spends the entire time with the llamas."

"So what was the problem then?" I ask.

"It was fine at first. I mean, the handler showed up with the llama and explained to me what we needed to do for the four hours we had it. The llama and I bonded before Liz got home from work and I really thought she understood me. Boy was I wrong."





"Jim, I'm home! What time are we – SON OF A BITCH! Why the f*ck is there a giant rat with fur in our living room?!" Liz screeched.

I ran into the room from the kitchen and came to a sudden stop when I saw Liz pinned against the door with the llama right in her face sniffing her.

"It's not a rat!" I whispered loudly as I crept over to where they were. "Don't say that so loud. You'll offend her."

Liz looked around the llama's head and gave me a dirty look.

"I'll offend HER? What the hell is it doing here?"

I got next to them and reached over to pet the llama to put everyone at ease.

"Her name is Princess Sugar-Britches, and she is your Valentine's Day present!"

Liz didn't share in the excitement that I obviously did. She inched her way out from under Princess Sugar-Britches stare and punched me in the arm.

"You brought a llama into the HOUSE?"

I shrugged as PSB turned around and looked me as if to say "What's this chick's problem?"

"It's totally fine," I explained to Liz as she paced back and forth behind the couch. "She's totally housebroken. She'll go to the door and spit on it when she needs to go out."

That was probably the wrong thing to tell Liz, but it was too late to take it back. Before she could react to the spitting statement, she let out another horrified scream and darted to the corner of the room.

"Is there SHIT in my brand new Coach purse? OH MY GOD! There is a steaming pile of llama shit in my purse! MY COACH PURSE!"

I glanced over in that direction as Liz held up the purse with the tip of one finger through the strap, as far away from her body as possible.

"Oops."

She stalked over to PSB and held the purse right in front of her.

"Did you take a dump in my purse? Do you have any idea how much this thing cost me, you furry little rat?"

I told her not to call PSB a rat, really, I did.

The next thing I know, PSB pulls her head back and spits right in Liz's face. Great big globs of llama spit dripped down the front of Liz's nose.

"You did NOT just spit in my face!" Liz yelled at her.

And since PSB obviously thought Liz didn't get the memo the first time, she reared back and did it again, while at the same time spreading her legs and pissing all over the carpet by the entryway.

Liz was too busy screaming at the top of her lungs and wiping llama gobs off of her face that she didn't notice PSB turning around, pawing at the ground, and flaring her nostrils angrily.

"Um, Liz, you might want to come over here close to me, very slowly," I told her gently.

Of course Liz didn't listen. She stood right where she was, stomped her foot, and pointed angrily at PSB. And then, all hell broke loose.

PSB's back leg shot out and kicked a hole right through our front door, and then she charged.

"RUN! JESUS H CHRIST, LIZ, RUN!" I screamed as I turn and ran towards the kitchen.

Liz took off hurtling the couch and screaming right along with me.



We flew out into the backyard, and I slammed the door right in PSB's face.





"That doesn't sound so bad. A little shit, a little spit, running and screaming into the night. That kind of sounds like having a kid," Drew says with a laugh.

"When I called the handler to come back and get her, he wasn't surprised. He said no one lasts more than an hour. That asshat should have told me that when he dropped her off. It would have saved me the trouble of buying a new front door, a new coffee table, a new couch, two new windows, new carpeting, and replacing a $400 Coach purse," Jim complains. "But man, Princess Sugar-Britches sure was a sweetie for a few minutes there."