Friday, 3 July 2015

A Beginning....An End (notes from a future story?)

Sad eyed and dumbed down he churns the gears from third to fifth. His life a thing of stereotype. The language between them slides into cliche. It is as inevitable as it is tragic. Back then, when their bodies, ungainly at best, conjoined they shared a mutual longing. Now it was the settlement of blandishments both insincere and inaccurate. Of bodily fluids spilt on crisp linen sheets.
He thinks of Sally, of their brief couplings in sudden areas; of how they steal moments like children stealing sweets. Her leg raised, replete in skirt, to allow him entry, clothes tossed aside as their limbs, his trousers around his ankles, embrace, coil, urge their union to its heated climax.
The car is a furnace. The heat from his and Audrey's anger, rage more like, is enough to cook their guilt to extreme levels. It is the anger that comes when blame is passed, when transference is foremost in both couples minds.
"Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you."
Once a sentence he longed to hear now a torrent of abuse.
"You are such a cunt, such a morbid, manipulative cunt. I don't know what I ever saw in you."
He means to keep silent, it seems the best course of action. If silence doesn't work then his anger will and that is something he doesn't want. Why allow her the pleasure of knowing she induced his temper. He speaks anyway damning the consequences, trusting to honesty.
"All I was saying is that maybe we should take a break from each other, for awhile. I wasn't suggesting divorce for Christ sake."
She explodes into self-driven rage.
.
.
.
Russell Cuts the Corn From The Brewers Whiskers.

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