A Mere Mortal by Ramkumar Menon Tabor is old, helpless and all alone. He takes a journey through mystical paths and .... Read alo... [3,753 words]
Ed's Gift by Jeffrey (George) Winter An insignificant man imparts the truth of wisdom and peace. [1,308 words]
When I Lived In Sodom by Musau This is a story that tries to get under your skin but keeps you curious in spite of it. [2,472 words]
To Understand The True Meaning Of Meaning by Musau This is strictly for adult reading because of language and implicatio... [5,480 words]
Touchdowns, Dandelions, And The Hawk by Steven T Andy Clannons never wanted to go with his friend Sharon Hobaltz to one of ... [3,319 words]
You Are My Sunshine by Sue (Sooz) Simpson - [1,285 words]
White Icing
Until Tuesday by Alif Muhammad It is a work concerning a life that is altered completely by an event that reveals itself slowly ... [6,761 words]
Under The Whether by Sue (Sooz) Simpson - [1,626 words]
They Stole It From Me by Peter Izdebski A moment stolen; one which could have answered all that I needed to know; a moment which ... [960 words]
The Video Store Girl Part 1 by David MacDonald An employee at a video store meets a man who has different tastes in movies than sh... [3,786 words]
The Magic Mirror by Kurt Kitasaki A short story on the real priorities of athletes. [211 words]
The Joker by Sue (Sooz) Simpson - [2,032 words]
The Hour Of Its Birth Is The Hour Of Its Death... by Bruce E Losis Jr A short story... [667 words]
The Eleventh Child by Seventh Star Personal experiences from being the "baby" of a large family. [858 words]
Sunglasses by Fergus O'Ferguson The Sun can be hot. This might leave you feeling very cold. Sunglasses often help if your eyes are h... [3,311 words]
Scars On Scarlet by Andrea Diane Brown This is a short story I wrote on self mutilation. [804 words]
Part 4 Conclusion by David MacDonald The conclusion to The Video Store Girl. [3,679 words]
Part 3 by David MacDonald The Third part of The Video Store Girl. [2,934 words]
Part 2 by David MacDonald The Second part of The Video Store Girl. [3,994 words]
Once by Lawrence Peters For you. Always. [317 words]
Machines - A Short Short Tale by David B Doc Byron A freelance strongarm protects the tenants in his building. [499 words]
Life In Puerto Rico by Kelly McMonagle This is a short story about the three years I lived in Puerto Rico. [575 words]
Life Drawing by David MacDonald A woman, a model for a life drawing class, meets the man who drew her figure the best. [4,195 words]
Keep Your Enemies Close by Hope C Clarke - [3,437 words]
Handicapped - A Short Short Tale by David B Doc Byron An internet pornographer learns the errors of his ways. [554 words]
Ghost Town - Part Two by David B Doc Byron Lexxus Machine, the sorcerer who overlooks the ghost town, awaits the Darkman's arrival. [406 words]
Ghost Town - Part Three by David B Doc Byron Lexxus and the darkman finally meet on the streets of the ghost twon for the final show... [314 words]
Ghost Town - Part One by David B Doc Byron A futuristic bounty hunter seeks a legendary ghost town where a sorcerer supposedly can a... [527 words]
Genesis by B M Gerstenblith A symbolic parable, set in our time, meaningful throughout time, comtemplating the very end of time. [595 words]
Dinner Is Served by David B Doc Byron A small group of monsters gather at Dracula's castle for a Halloween dinner. [177 words]
Daynight by Adam Lear A world in which true destinies are unknown until just the right time. [4,128 words]
Darkness In Death And Dissolution by Norman A Rubin Retribution through the power of the judge of hell upon the act of murder. [2,447 words]
Contemplation by Musau This little story was written in rhyme over twenty years ago. Basically, the title sums it all u... [754 words]
Chipping Away The Truth by Jonathan McCullough I wrote this short story when I was supposed to be writing an essay for english. I woul... [1,217 words]
Bio Incubus by Michael S Upchurch A subterranean nightmare with catastrophic effects. [2,494 words]
A Tiny Mistake by Rachel V Hatch This is a funny, true story that actually happened to the author in her younger years. [205 words]
A Beautiful Thing by Ben Jonjak A girl picks a flower in a park despite her boyfriends objection and finds there is an unexpe... [996 words]
The Wildwood - A ''Short Short'' Tale. by David B Doc Byron After hundreds of years of being hunted for sport by man, wild animals p... [423 words]
The Red Moon - A ''Short Short'' Tale. by David B Doc Byron An ancient werewolf plans to plant hia seed in a new bloodline. [440 words]
No Good Bye by Rick Mantilla Just a story. [1,878 words]
Nasal Therapy by Michael S Upchurch Spooky story about a doctor's last day on the job. [1,657 words]
Interlude by Judith Goff Chance encounters can be dangerous.... [172 words]
Goldy's Last Goose by Gerald L Bosacker GOLDY’S LAST GOOSE (1666 Words) Bill Seeger sliced the home made bread carefully cutting... [1,681 words]
Gazabelle's Last Spell by J Brian Chamberlin Gazabelle is an aging wizard who finds he no longer fits in the new ways of the world. B... [7,691 words]
Belt A Fat Comedian by Gerald L Bosacker While attending the University of Minnesota, I was side-tracked from academics by economic ... [2,333 words]
A Sandy Surprise by Sara Burling A young girl in search of something she lost long ago. [807 words]
A Funny Memory by Jacqueline Anel Sheppard Chris gets stuck in a tree... how do his sisters pull him out? [639 words]
Soliloquy by Judith Goff A woman seeking love, finds more than she expected. [173 words]
Zipperhead by David B Doc Byron A woman attempts to hide the fact she has a son who's tastes in food tend to lean towards... uh... t... [2,186 words]
Watching And Waiting by Sue (Sooz) Simpson - [1,253 words]
Tusk by Sue (Sooz) Simpson - [1,012 words]
Tiny Pink Pills by Sunny Ain't life a bytch!!! [757 words]
The Weapon Of Hope by Jeffrey (George) Winter When all else fails, there is hope. Three short stories reveals where lies ours. [1,385 words]
The Sacred Cup by Francis James Chudley A short story set in a magical world the story revolves around our young hero Lippin. I wont tel... [5,513 words]
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Swimming Lessons by Alan Johnson A short story about the life lessons I learned at swimming as a young boy and how I applied th... [1,131 words]
Strawman by David B Doc Byron A scarecrow comes to life and desires freedom. [960 words]
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Redemption Part Three by David B Doc Byron An ex-hitman reflects back on his past. [683 words]
Redemption Part Four by David B Doc Byron An ex-hitman recieves an offer he cant refuse. [345 words]
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| |
TITLE (EDIT)
White Icing |
DESCRIPTION
-
[1,385 words] |
AUTHOR
Sue (Sooz) Simpson |
ABOUT
THE AUTHOR
I'm thirty nine, recently single again. I have two boys Cli' (pronounced clee) Real name Christopher and Mark. I'm a care in the community nurse and formerly (when I was married) an occupational Therapist working with the mentally ill on a secure unit. I love reading and writing and meeting people. I hate offal, seafood and intolerance. I keep dog, cat, polecats, rats and reptiles. And for seven years ran the second largest reptile sanctuary in Britain. Apart from having my lads, I think that's probably the most worthwhile thing I've ever done. Writing wise, I've been the main fiction writer for Legends magazine for three years.And have two books published 'Lizard's Leap' published by Quillusers, and 'Better the Devil You Know' soon to be released by Bestbooks.Um I drive a knackered old Astra, and ride a two litre trike. I live in the lake district of England, and am happy. :-)
[January 2003] |
AUTHOR'S E-MAIL ADDRESS
sooz.006@virgin.net |
AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (84)
A Fork In The Road. (Short Stories) A paradox revolving round the lonely Holker Mosses in the dead of night. [2,835 words] [Mystery]
A Twist In The Tail (Short Stories) - [963 words]
Agony (Short Stories) The First in a series of Agony columns written by the unstoppable Aunt Nasty. (May be deemed offensive) [1,200 words] [Comedy]
Agony 2 (Short Stories) Morew from the irrepresible Aunt Nasty (May be deemed offensive). [1,077 words] [Comedy]
Angel Stew (Short Stories) The kitchens are in uproar. [826 words] [Comedy]
Anne (Short Stories) - [707 words]
Apple Of His Eye (Short Stories) Daddy's little girl, Daddy's little sweetheart. (May be deemed offensive). [1,742 words] [Drama]
Attractions (Short Stories) People stared at the sisters and called them freaks. [678 words] [Drama]
Bandit At Twelve-O-Clock (Short Stories) A sinister note drops through her letter box, but who is it from and what's it all about? [2,144 words] [Drama]
Barriers (Short Stories) Everybody's frightened of the prisoner in the cell at the end of the block. [2,913 words] [Thriller]
Breakfast In Bed (Short Stories) She loved her husband so much, and a sepcial man deserves a special breakfast. [1,633 words] [Horror]
Car Trouble (Short Stories) Boys will be boys. [496 words] [Comedy]
Cat's Chorus (Short Stories) - [1,332 words]
Cherry Blossom (Short Stories) - [435 words]
Cold, Cold Night.. (Short Stories) The night was beautiful but biting, she had to make her final farewells, a cigarette would help. [630 words] [Drama]
Creeping Up From Behind. (Short Stories) You can't ever really know what someone else is thinking ... unless they choose to tell you. [925 words] [Drama]
Dark Solitude. (Short Stories) A woman alone on the moors when a storm threatens, but this is no ordinanry storm and that is no ordinary lady. [1,434 words] [Drama]
Dawn Rising (Short Stories) He looked at his own personal sunrise every morning, yet longed for the warmth of the sun. [1,069 words] [Drama]
Deadly Persuit (Short Stories) Nature at its most cruel .. when it's interfered with by man. [1,541 words] [Drama]
Deep Blue Eastern Light (Poetry) I've never been to Budapest, but I saw an image on a postcard, it was misty and had a sort of dreamy quality about it. I wondered about the spirit of Budapest. Hope I've done her justicce. [204 words]
Different Road (Short Stories) Charlie is running scared. Will he find his way before his precious time runs out? [521 words]
Empty House (Short Stories) This had been her domain, now it was only a shadow. [649 words] [Drama]
Find Me A Place (Poetry) Everybody needs somewhere to run. [193 words] [Drama]
Finding Fleur (Short Stories) Katy desperately wants to find Fleur, but does Fleur want to be found? [1,727 words] [Drama]
Four Minute Warning (Short Stories) - [476 words] [Comedy]
Freedom By Another Name (Short Stories) He's an imposter [557 words] [Drama]
Furtive Glances (Short Stories) Always the last to know! [891 words] [Drama]
Galaxy (Poetry) Let Venus bear witness and Mars be our guide. [139 words]
Hickory, Dickory, Dock (Short Stories) - [991 words] [Drama]
Is The Toilet Roll Half Full Or Half Empty (Short Stories) It's hard when you're at bursting point. [423 words] [Comedy]
I've Always Wanted To Write... But! (Short Stories) There's always an excuse if you want to find one. [510 words] [Mind]
Jasmine And Gardenia Love (Poetry) - [417 words] [Erotic]
Jinny (Poetry) - [176 words]
Just The Ticket (Short Stories) You pays your money and you takes your chances. [5,177 words] [Drama]
Knockers (Short Stories) It's a dirty job, but someone's got to do it. [2,210 words] [Drama]
Little Bird (Short Stories) He liked fragile things [1,406 words] [Drama]
Lizards Leap (Novels) Four children buy an intricately carved frame from a school fair. A crazy old woman chases them desperately wanting the carving for herself. What is the mystery surrounding the strange frame? [5,753 words] [Adventure]
Long Walk Back To Jurassica (Poetry) Evolution and progress or three million steps backwards? [323 words] [Drama]
Lookingthrough The Window (Short Stories) - [401 words]
Madness Becomes You (Short Stories) She used to be someone, now she's several people, or maybe she's nobody at all, it makes no difference. [394 words] [Drama]
Making My Way Back To You. (Short Stories) She'd told them a thousand times to keep the front door closed, now tragedy had struck. [1,926 words] [Drama]
Memberwhen (Poetry) Memberwhen that mystical word of long ago memories. [189 words] [Drama]
Mortar Doesn't Breathe. (Short Stories) The house was inanimate, dead ... because her child was gone. [1,114 words] [Drama]
Mourning Glory (Short Stories) One of my favourite pieces. Please note *This is not a children's story* It's the tale of a little girl trying to be a child. [1,786 words] [Drama]
Mumbles From The Madhouse (Novels) It was her first day on the secure unit and somehow she had to see it through. [2,215 words] [Drama]
My Friend The Tiger And Me (Poetry) I wrote this for my little boy when he was having trouble at school. [942 words] [Animal]
Naughty Bunny Goes To Ibiza (Short Stories) - [552 words]
One-Man Race (Short Stories) He had only his nerves to rely on. One slip and the race would be lost. [664 words] [Drama]
Out Of Print (Short Stories) A man, a boy, a love of reading and echoes of the past. [2,007 words] [Drama]
Outrun The River (Poetry) The snow was melting fast and he owed it to himself and his seld of dogs to make it to safety. [145 words] [Action]
Pact Of Joy. (Short Stories) Don't we all just want to be happy? [2,497 words] [Drama]
Play With Me Please. (Short Stories) - [322 words]
Return Of The Hellcat (Erotica May Be Offensive) (Short Stories) Please do not read this one if easily offended. Or even not so easily offended. Continuing sexploits of Dark Solitude. [3,390 words] [Erotic]
Room For One More (Short Stories) The dream was haunting and wouldn't leave Mike alone. [1,728 words] [Drama]
Rush Hour (Short Stories) - [419 words]
Sally (Short Stories) - [2,268 words]
Sinister Music (Novels) She had no psychic ability, so why had fate chosen her to foretell of the spate of brutal murders? [6,114 words] [Drama]
So This Is My Life Then (Short Stories) - [517 words] [Comedy]
Space Walk (Short Stories) May Cause offense. [1,290 words] [Drama]
Spirit Dancer (Poetry) - [514 words]
Sweet Child Of Mine (Short Stories) The old lady had been brutally mugged, her son was sucjh a good boy, but would his thoughts now turn to revenge? [1,843 words] [Drama]
Tangled Web (Short Stories) Treat `em mean and keep `em keen. [596 words] [Drama]
The Band Played On (Short Stories) - [1,486 words] [Drama]
The Big Picture (Short Stories) The little girl was a great artist, but her subject matter was giving cause for concern. [776 words] [Drama]
The Comet. (Short Stories) Remember! [796 words] [Drama]
The Dinosaur (Short Stories) - [1,523 words]
The Half Empty Glass. (Short Stories) They had no idea of the horror they were walking into. [3,030 words] [Drama]
The Hhmmm Efect (Poetry) - [783 words]
The Iceberg (Short Stories) She had to break the hold they had on him... release him from his parents grip. [410 words] [Drama]
The Joker (Short Stories) - [2,032 words]
The Lovers (Poetry) - [124 words]
The Mark Of Jack (Short Stories) The start of something maybe. [1,044 words] [Drama]
The Old Enemy (Short Stories) I just hope I've got the names right. [253 words] [Drama]
The Rosary (Short Stories) May cause offense. [422 words]
The Spark (Short Stories) - [557 words]
The Thirteenth Station (Short Stories) - [8,024 words] [Horror]
The Village Green. (Short Stories) - [559 words] [Drama]
Three Mile Gap (Poetry) So close and yet... [285 words] [Drama]
Tomorrow Lies Beside Us (Poetry) - [239 words] [Drama]
Tusk (Short Stories) - [1,012 words] [Drama]
Under The Whether (Short Stories) - [1,626 words]
Watching And Waiting (Short Stories) - [1,253 words] [Drama]
Worlds Biggest Loser (Short Stories) - [114 words]
You Are My Sunshine (Short Stories) - [1,285 words]
|
White Icing
Sue (Sooz) Simpson
His hand spun on the dowel of the final flight of stairs. Resting for just a moment, one foot already poised on the bottom tread, he drew a long shuddering breath. Six flights up and down those stairs several times a day and the damned things never seemed to get any easier. Some days he took these last thirteen steps two at a time as a rebellious act of defiance against his straining heart. Today he felt the blood pumping in his left temple quite strongly enough to tell him not to push his luck.
He didn’t think he’d mind dying of a heart attack today. In fact it might be a pleasant release, but if he expired right there on the stairs the punk rocker opposite with the two Bull Mastiffs would probably trample him underfoot the next time he took the beasts out, and that would just be so unseemly.
Smiling ruefully and panting heavily, he dragged his reluctant body up those last torturous steps, only the thought of a hot cup of coffee giving his calf muscles the added impetus they needed to make the rise. He stopped outside his front door and picked up the small package that had been left. Obviously ‘Killer’ and ‘Satan’, or whatever the hell ‘punk-freak’ called those dogs, hadn’t been past his door recently. He knew this because the package was completely devoid of glutinous dog slobber.
Turning the parcel over in his hands, he felt a moment of pain more intense than climbing eighty flights of stairs would have been. The oyster-coloured box with the silver bells and crap was addressed in Sarah’s neat hand. His spirits, already in the bass section of the orchestra, dropped another couple of octaves.
He let himself into the flat, and smiled as Prissy rubbed herself in greeting around his legs.
“Hello baby, have you behaved yourself today? Yes, yes, I’ll feed you now puss, just give me a second to get in. What do you fancy girl, cat food or wedding cake? I would highly recommend the former.”
He flicked the switch to boil the kettle, fed the cat, spooned coffee and milk into a cup and milk and cat food into a segregated bowl. She shouldn’t have the milk, but what the hell, this was a celebration. He opened and read three buff-clad pieces of mail, all demands for his hard earned cash, and turned his nose up in the direction of the cat littler tray which was doing a good impression of a Japanese turd garden. While all the time he averted his eyes from the delicate little package on the worktop.
The kettle boiled and he poured the steaming water over the rich coffee granules, taking pleasure in the aroma that was released into the air. Okay, it was sullied pleasure owing to the fact that Prissy’s artwork was still percolating its own smell, but hey, that was the score of his life. He stirred the coffee twenty one times in a clockwise direction and tapped the teaspoon twice on the rim of his cup.
Opening the crockery cupboard he bypassed the everyday stuff that he normally used, stretching instead to the furthest corner of the cupboard, from where he retrieved one of his best china side plates. Only the best would do. Picking up his coffee he plonked the box on top of the plate and moved through to sit at the breakfast table looking out onto the communal garden some storeys below.
He ran his fingertip lightly over the handwriting on the box. Her handwriting. He felt sad that he couldn’t feel her through the ink. Had she already slipped so far from him?
Prissy lunged onto his knee, shaking the table and causing a small amount of coffee to spill in a Rorshach blot onto the white linen tablecloth. The cat was unrepentant, and pushed her nose boldly into his face. Her whiskers were slick with the remnants of cat food still clinging to them, and she breathed a gust of fish-soured breath into his mouth. He laughed and pushed her gently down. Undeterred, she again jumped onto his knee, only this time she stretched out her hind leg and rested it just below his nose as she began to lick her backside, purring happily.
“Be assertive man,” he said aloud as he pushed the cat more forcefully from his knee. “Or are you going to allow yourself to be a convenient perch for an arse-licking cat?” Of course all this was just delaying the inevitable. It couldn’t be put off any longer.
He unwrapped the thin sliver of cake, hardly more than a mouthful, thank God. The astringent smell of matured brandy wafted from the rich fruitcake. “Does anybody actually like this stuff?” he thought as he bit through the sickly too-sweet icing, past the thick layer of bitter marzipan which he hated with a vengeance and into the dark cloying moistness of the cake itself. ‘Blood and Sand; this stuff is horrible,’ he thought as he chewed mechanically through the first of three bites. It was disgusting.
The second mouthful was even worse than the first; it seemed all the pieces of mixed peel had congregated together to ‘get him’. He chewed for what seemed like an eternity on the vile symbol of someone else’s happiness, before relishing the blessed release of having covered the lump in enough saliva to enable swallowing. He put the last morsel of cake into his mouth, and sucked the first three fingers on his left hand.
“Congratulations”, he said aloud, spraying cake onto the surprised cat.
He chewed slowly, savouring the taste of the disgusting cake, in much the same way that he had luxuriated in his self-pity for the last six months. He ate almost reverently as he took this last sacrament of unrequited love. He swallowed, took a long slug of too-hot coffee and swallowed again. It seemed appropriate that as he finally swallowed his love for Sarah it should burn his throat. Then he sat for a further five minutes at the table watching the flowers bloom, the trees sway and the weeds strangle as he finished his coffee.
“I am re-born Prissy,” he said as the cat cocked her head curiously though offering no argument to this statement. “Things are going to be very different around here.”
He stood and walked into the living room. Prissy, sensing her human’s strange mood, followed him stealthily. He picked up a crystal penguin from the mantelpiece, took it into the kitchen and stuck it into the tallest turd in the litter box.
“I never did like that bloody thing,” he said in explanation. The cat looked at the intruding penguin, which in turn looked as though it were about to ski down the piste, and then she stuck her tail in the air and stalked of. Hers was not to wonder why.
Throwing open the French doors that led out onto the balcony the warm summer evening rushed in a pleasant welcome to envelope him and draw him out. So there he stood leaning on his balcony, in his flat. For the first time in months it actually felt quite good to be alive. He was a new man.
A girl clopped past on the pavement below. High heels, skirt way up her pleasantly brown thighs, long hair swinging in time with her hips.
He did something he’d never done in his life before … he let out a long low wolf whistle.
“Hey Gorgeous, fancy a drink?”
She turned slowly, pivoting on those shoulder pinning legs. “In your dreams yuppie boy.” She flicked the bone elaborately at him.
“Your loss Baby, your loss.”
She was grinning, her wide red lips spread to reveal teeth that were clean and white.
“The Red Lion, ten minutes,” she yelled up at him. Melon Breezer please, lots of ice.”
“I’ll be there.” He flew into the bathroom long enough to brush his teeth and fling some after-shave around his face. He was almost out of the door when as an afterthought he ran back into the bathroom and cupped another handful of aftershave round the region of his genitals, he took time to wink at himself in the bathroom mirror. Then he was gliding down the stairs, jacket swinging nonchalantly from one shoulder, as he took the stairs three, four, five at a time.
Life was good. Bloody good.
|
READER'S REVIEWS (2)
DISCLAIMER: STORYMANIA DOES NOT PROVIDE AND IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR REVIEWS. ALL REVIEWS ARE PROVIDED BY NON-ASSOCIATED VISITORS, REGARDLESS OF THE WAY THEY CALL THEMSELVES.
"Muzzle Flash’s Review: White Icing ***Hmmm interesting this is the second title I’ve viewed with “ice” as its base-word.*** Sue (Sooz) Simpson His hand spun on the dowel of the final flight of stairs. Resting for just a moment, one foot already poised on the bottom tread, he drew a long shuddering breath. Six flights up and down those stairs several times a day and the damned things never seemed to get any easier. ***Good opening lines, which draw a reader in.*** Some days he took these last thirteen steps two at a time as a rebellious act of defiance against his straining heart. Today he felt the blood pumping in his left temple quite strongly enough to tell ***drop “to” then switch to “telling”*** him not to push his luck. He didn’t think he’d mind dying of a heart attack today. In fact it might be a pleasant release, but if he expired right there on the stairs the punk rocker opposite with the two Bull Mastiffs would probably trample him underfoot the next time he took the beasts out, and that would just be so unseemly. Smiling ruefully and panting heavily, he dragged his reluctant body up those last torturous steps, only the thought of a hot cup of coffee giving his calf muscles the added impetus they needed to make the rise. He stopped outside his front door and picked up the small package that had been left. Obviously ‘Killer’ and ‘Satan’, or whatever the hell ‘punk-freak’ ***If possible put these apostrophed words into italics*** called those dogs, hadn’t been past his door recently. He knew this because the package was completely devoid of glutinous ***It might actually read better to lose the adjective modifying dog.*** dog slobber. Turning the parcel over in his hands, he felt a moment of pain more intense than climbing eighty flights of stairs would have been. The oyster-coloured box with the silver bells and crap was addressed in Sarah’s neat hand. His spirits, already in the bass section of the orchestra, dropped another couple of octaves. ***Strong and well-thought metaphorical image here.*** He let himself into the flat, and smiled as Prissy rubbed herself in greeting around his legs. “Hello baby, have you behaved yourself today? Yes, yes, I’ll feed you now puss, just give me a second to get in. What do you fancy girl, cat food or wedding cake? I would highly recommend the former.” He flicked the switch to boil the kettle, fed the cat, spooned coffee and milk into a cup ***Use a comma here so you don’t jumble the sentence and confuse the reader about who is eating what.*** and milk and cat food into a segregated bowl. She shouldn’t have the milk, but what the hell, this was a celebration. He opened and read three buff-clad ***They were naked?*** pieces of mail, all demands for his hard earned cash, and turned his nose up in the direction of the cat littler tray which was doing a good impression of a Japanese turd garden. While all the time he averted his eyes from the delicate little package on the worktop. The kettle boiled and he poured the steaming water over the rich coffee granules, taking pleasure in the aroma that was released into the air. Okay, it was sullied pleasure owing to the fact that Prissy’s artwork was still percolating its own smell, ***Kitty needs some Fresh Step TM*** but hey, that was the score of his life. He stirred the coffee twenty one ***twenty-one*** times in a clockwise direction and tapped the teaspoon twice on the rim of his cup. Opening the crockery cupboard he bypassed the everyday stuff that he normally used, stretching instead to the furthest corner of the cupboard, from where he retrieved one of his best china side plates. Only the best would do. Picking up his coffee he plonked ***Are you certain you want to be using such a non-standard word in the exposition? It isn’t very professional.*** the box on top of the plate and moved through to sit at the breakfast table looking out onto the communal garden some storeys ***stories*** below. He ran his fingertip lightly over the handwriting on the box. Her handwriting. He felt sad that he couldn’t feel her through the ink. ***Good imagery.*** Had she already slipped so far from him? Prissy lunged onto his knee, shaking the table and causing a small amount of coffee to spill in a Rorshach ***Rorschach*** blot onto the white linen tablecloth. The cat was unrepentant, and pushed her nose boldly into his face. Her whiskers were slick with the remnants of cat food still clinging to them, and she breathed a gust of fish-soured breath into his mouth. He laughed and pushed her gently down. Undeterred, she again jumped onto his knee, only this time she stretched out her hind leg and rested it just below his nose as she began to lick her backside, purring happily. “Be assertive man,” he said aloud as he pushed the cat more forcefully from his knee. “Or are you going to allow yourself to be a convenient perch for an arse-licking cat?” Of course all this was just delaying the inevitable. It couldn’t be put off any longer. He unwrapped the thin sliver of cake, hardly more than a mouthful, thank God. The astringent smell of matured brandy wafted from the rich fruitcake. “Does anybody actually like this stuff?” he thought as he bit through the sickly too-sweet icing, past the thick layer of bitter marzipan which he hated with a vengeance and into the dark cloying moistness of the cake itself. ‘Blood and Sand; this stuff is horrible,’ he thought as he chewed mechanically through the first of three bites. It was disgusting. The second mouthful was even worse than the first; it seemed all the pieces of mixed peel had congregated together to ‘get him’. He chewed for what seemed like an eternity on the vile symbol of someone else’s happiness, before relishing the blessed release of having covered the lump in enough saliva to enable swallowing. He put the last morsel of cake into his mouth, and sucked the first three fingers on his left hand. “Congratulations”, he said aloud, spraying cake onto the surprised cat. ***Extremely unpleasant images in those last few lines.*** He chewed slowly, savouring ***savoring*** the taste of the disgusting cake, in much the same way that he had luxuriated in his self-pity for the last six months. He ate almost reverently as he took this last sacrament of unrequited love. He swallowed, took a long slug of too-hot coffee and swallowed again. It seemed appropriate that as he finally swallowed his love for Sarah it should burn his throat. Then he sat for a further five minutes at the table watching the flowers bloom, the trees sway and the weeds strangle as he finished his coffee. “I am re-born Prissy,” he said as the cat cocked her head curiously though offering no argument to this statement. “Things are going to be very different around here.” He stood and walked into the living room. Prissy, sensing her human’s strange mood, followed him stealthily. He picked up a crystal penguin from the mantelpiece, took it into the kitchen and stuck it into the tallest turd in the litter box. “I never did like that bloody thing,” he said in explanation. The cat looked at the intruding penguin, which in turn looked as though it were about to ski down the piste, and then she stuck her tail in the air and stalked of ***off***. Hers ***Her’s*** was not to wonder why. Throwing open the French doors that led out onto the balcony the warm summer evening rushed in a pleasant welcome to envelope him and draw him out. So there he stood leaning on his balcony, in his flat. For the first time in months it actually felt quite good to be alive. He was a new man. A girl clopped past on the pavement below. High heels, skirt way up her pleasantly brown thighs, long hair swinging in time with her hips. He did something he’d never done in his life before … he let out a long low wolf whistle. “Hey Gorgeous, fancy a drink?” She turned slowly, pivoting on those shoulder pinning legs. “In your dreams yuppie boy.” She flicked the bone elaborately at him. “Your loss Baby, your loss.” She was grinning, her wide red lips spread to reveal teeth that were clean and white. “The Red Lion, ten minutes,” she yelled up at him. Melon Breezer please, lots of ice.” “I’ll be there.” He flew into the bathroom long enough to brush his teeth and fling some after-shave around his face. He was almost out of the door when as an afterthought he ran back into the bathroom and cupped another handful of aftershave round the region of his genitals, he took time to wink at himself in the bathroom mirror. Then he was gliding down the stairs, jacket swinging nonchalantly from one shoulder, as he took the stairs three, four, five at a time. Life was good. Bloody good. " -- Cam Davis.
"Thank you for taking the time and trouble to review this for me. Thanks Cam Sooz http://members.lycos.co.uk/suesimpson/" -- Sooz, Cumbria, England, Cumbria.
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COPYRIGHT NOTICE
© 2000 Sue (Sooz) Simpson |
STORYMANIA PUBLICATION DATE
October 2002 |
NUMBER OF TIMES TITLE VIEWED
2734
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