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The next morning, Grayson strolled in the kitchen to find Dallas Jean Lee crouched over the kitchen table in her duckie pajamas, one pink kitten heel raised in the air.  Poster board painted with pink jaunty letters crying, “Vote Lee” and “Dallas isn’t just a city–she’s your city” covered the counters and stove top.

Beaming, Grayson squeezed his wife around the middle.  Dallas glared up at him through smeared eyeshadow, one false eyelash dangling from her eyelid.  “I’m still mad at you,” she snarled.

“I know,” Grayson mumbled into her back, squeezing tighter.  “And that’s why it’s so sweet!  You stayed up all night making signs for me anyway, even though you think I stole your little animal farm.”

“I don’t think you stole it, I know you did,” Dallas corrected, dipping her pink paintbrush in a cup of water.  “Grayson, honey, you knew that was important to me.  And you made it part of your campaign.”

Grayson blinked against the fuzzy duckie print.  “Norman said–”

“Norman was wrong,” Dallas interrupted.  “He doesn’t want to help you make the city better, honey.  He just wants the power.”

“Now honey…” Grayson drawled, plucking at her buttons.  She jammed her elbow into his stomach and he grunted, his arms popping free.

“Beau and I went for pizza last night”–

“You went for pizza and didn’t invite me?” Grayson wheezed, holding his gut.  “Aw, honey, you know I love pizza.”

“It was 2 a.m.  You were asleep.”  Dallas Jean licked her lips.  “You know, cinnamon rolls sound really good right now.”  She tottered to the fridge, her pink heels clicking against the tile.

“2 a.m.? Dallas, really.  Please don’t tell me you went to the place that has karaoke”–

“Of course I did,” Dallas snorted, pulling a can of cinnamon rolls out of the fridge and unwrapping it.  Grayson jumped at the sharp pop.  Dallas ignored him as she continued to chat.  “Anyway, I was talking to Beau and he brought up a good point.  He said instead of being mad at you, I should take the opportunity to help the people of this town and use your campaign for good.”

“That’s my boy,” Grayson boasted, eyeing the cinnamon rolls as Dallas placed them in the pan.  “Will those be ready before I go to work?”

“It depends when you go to work,” Dallas Jean answered, shoving the pan in the oven and pressing the temperature button. “Anyway, I decided he was right.  And I decided that in fact, I could do a better job of helping people if I ran for mayor myself.”

Grayson’s eyes bugged out.  “You?  Mayor?”

Dallas Jean beamed, the dangling eyelash fluttering.  “Oh yes.  Don’t worry, dear.  I won’t gloat when I win.”

Grayson stared at her, his mouth opening and closing without any sound for several minutes.  Shrugging, Dallas Jean mixed up the icing and poured juice, eyeing the rising cinnamon rolls through the oven door.  Finally, Grayson stuttered, “Why?  Why would you run against me?  Why wouldn’t you want to just help my campaign?”

“Because you know I don’t trust Norman,” Dallas Jean replied cheerfully.  The dangling false eyelash set fell into her juice cup, splashing the table.  Not noticing, she picked it up and took a sip.  “That boy is slicker than a grease spot on an oil rig.  I trust him about as much as a used car salesman.”

“But…don’t you trust me?” Grayson asked, his voice cracking.  “Honey, you know I want to help people.  I would have never agreed to be mayor if I didn’t think that.”

Dallas Jean sighed.  Toddling over to her husband, she took her face between her hands.  “Darling, you know I think you’re a good man.  I would have launched a smear campaign against you if you didn’t.  But as long as Norman’s around, I refuse to support your campaign.  But I’ll always support you.”  Picking up her juice cup with it’s floating eyelash, she beamed up at him.  “I’m going to go take a quick bath before those are done.  Then I’ve got some campaigning to do.”  Kissing him, she sasheyed to the stairs.

“But you were up all night!” Grayson called.  “Don’t you need to sleep?”

“I’ve got too much to do1″ she cried as she hurried up the stairs.  “I’ve got signs and bake sales to raise money for my campaign and speeches to write and political clothes to pick out….Adelaide needs to file the paperwork…”  Her voice lowering to a mutter, she disappeared into their room.

Sighing, Grayson sat at the counter and poked one of his wife’s signs.  Pink glitter poured off the side, coating his fingers and palm.  Shaking his hand, he barely noticed when Norman strolled in.

“Art project?” he asked, raising his eyebrow.

Grayson raised a glitter stained hand and glumly pointed to the lettering.  “Nope, competition,” he said wearily.  “Dallas is running for mayor.”

“She’s what?” Norman snapped.  “Why?”

“She wants to help,” Grayson said mildly.  “Same reason I do.”

“This is ridiculous,” Norman growled.  “Tell her no.”

“I’m not going to do that,” Grayson replied, raising his eyebrow.  “If she wants to run, she can run.”

Norman leaned forward, his face twisted in a snarl.  “Grayson, she can’t run.  She’ll ruin you.  People tolerate her because she’s entertaining.  As a politician, she’ll be ridiculous.  A laughingstock.  She’ll ruin your repetuation.”

“She supported me running, so I’ll support her,” Grayson replied.

“BUT YOU’RE RUNNING AT THE SAME TIME!” Norman exploded, slamming his hand against the counter.  Pink and silver glitter rained down through the air.  “Do you not see how ridiculous this is?”

“It’s not ridiculous,” Dallas Jean replied behind him.  He turned and snarled as she strolled by, her blond hair wrapped in a towel in a turban and her curvy figure in a hot pink bathrobe.  Reaching for the potholders, she pulled the cinnamon rolls out of the oven and inhaled.  “These are delicious.  You can’t have one, because you’re being mean.  Grayson, darling, get the kids, would you? They’ve got to get to school.”

Grayson smiled and ambled towards the children’s bedrooms.  As Dallas Jean Lee layered on the icing, Norman leaned forward and hissed.  “Dallas, do yourself a favor.  Drop out now.”

“And why should I do that?” she drawled.

Norman leaned forward, his face twisted in an ugly smirk.  “I can give you a reason….several….if you know what I mean.”

To be continued…

Stay tuned, Invisible Friends!  Tomorrow we have the rest of the 12 Christmas artists and a week of more whimsical fun!! Stay tuned!