“We’re under attack!” my geek shrieked.

Warning bells rang consistently, every second.

“We’re under attack!” Greg shouted.

Clang.  Clang.  Clang.

“We’re under attack!”

It was midnight, and I was alarmed.

Until the yelling began, Greg and I were sitting peacefully on our couch, like loving spouses do, staring at our computer screens. We occasionally instant messaged each other from a foot away, ostensibly so as to not wake the children with our chatter, but in reality because we think we’re funny when we message in the same room.  Geek flirting, 21st century style.  Woo woo!  I won’t say exactly what we were messaging, but it had to do with fixing website buttons, and it was pretty hot.  Just saying.

In that serene environment, you’ll understand my surprise when my geek shrieked.

“We’re under attack!”

Our house seemed secure.  Our children, plus one more, were safely asleep in their beds.  I heard no sounds of breaking and entering, and my dog, a perpetual alarmist and vocal deterrent, didn’t budge.

So all I had to go on was the clanging.

Clang.  Clang.  Clang.

And the yelling husband.

“What’s going on?!” I shrieked back in response.

“We’re under attack!” Greg replied.  And I wanted to shake him, because I pretty much had figured that part out, and I was in full on Fight Mode, ready to figure out from which angle I had to protect my children.

“HOW are we under attack, Greg?!” So much for not waking the children.  I was set to wake the dead.

“It’s a BOT!  And it’s attacking RIGHT NOW!” Greg said.

Fortunately for me (and, really, for him), Greg looked up from his computer just then.  The same computer from whence the clanging came.  And Greg noticed my distress, and he explained our plight.

See, I am a freaking freaker, so I thought we really were under attack.  What with all the “We’re under attack!” statements.

Turns out, a computer server for which Greg bears responsibility was under attack by an automated hacking program.  And it was up to Greg to race into his virtual phone booth, rip off his street clothes, burst into the sky with his Super Geek disguise in place, and vanquish that Bot to computer hacker hell.

“We’re under attack!” my geek shrieked.  In glee.  Not in alarm.

I was relieved.  But my adrenaline was not.  And it would’ve gone better for Greg if he’d managed his Bot Hacker Villain explanation without the gleam of delight in his eyes.

All is well now that we’ve set new rules.  Yelling “We’re under attack!” is only allowed in the future between the hours of 11:00am and 11:00pm when all civilized wives have an in tact sense of humor and ability to respond to loud stimuli with calm, composure and tranquility.  Just like I respond to everything else around here.

In conclusion,

“We’re under attack!”

Tee hee.

Just playin’ with ya.