Fiction Workout #4
Okay, not sure if I did this right, but I gave it a whirl. I'm also going to see if I can do that lj-cut thing. Oh, and yes, feedback for sure :)
John sprayed his wife's car with the hose, watching the soap dissolve and fall to the driveway languorously. He was almost done with this chore and would be glad to just sit down on the couch and have a Coke.
"Are you done yet?" called Terry from the back door, wearing tennis shorts and a white top. She actually had a tennis raquet as well. Lately, she'd been taking up tennis. John wasn't really impressed, just amused. Like all her fads, this one would go as well.
"Almost!" John called back, turning off the hose. "It's still wet!"
"Well, I gotta go, I'm late!" Terry stayed indoors watching John with the car. She shook her head and looked at her watch.
"Just have to wipe the doors a bit!"
Terry stormed out of the house and up to the car. "I have to get going. You said you'd be doen ten minutes ago!"
"Okay, okay, just let me dry as much as I can so you won't get yourself wet while driving." John pulled open the driver's side door drying the outer edges. He closed the door.
"Good, you're done!"
"No, no. I'll just do the other door." John trotted over to the other door, opened it, did a quick dry, and saw something on the passenger seat. "When will I see you again?" the note had said. John sneezed and closed the door in one motion. "Darn allergies! Well, I'm done here."
Terry raced into the car and started it up. "Okay, now if you'd let go the door handle, I could go?"
"Sorry," croaked John letting the door handle go, letting his wife go wherever she was going. John went back into the house and picked up the phone.
"Hello?" said the voice on the other end.
"Paula?"
"Yes, who else would it be?"
"My wife is having an affair."
"Yup," said Paula's voice on the phone, "she admitted it right there. Actually I didn't even have to push at all."
"So I was right," sighed John, holding the phone close. "Hey, I gotta go, I hear keys."
The door opened and Terry burst in, holding her purse firmly in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other. "Talking to Paula, I see?"
"She called to see if you got home okay" John put the phone down. "How was coffee?"
Terry smiled, still standing. "It was fine." She grimaced. "Went the way you hoped."
"The way I hoped?" John shrugged.
"Yeah you big pussy! Didn't even have the balls to confront me, for fuck sakes, I left the note for you to find the other day, I don't even know why, but you're slow and terrible and weak with everything you do. So, yes, I am having an affair. His name is Ron and he's Superman!"
"You're drunk." John pointed to the paper bag.
"Boo hoo, go cry to your fuckin' AA friends, boo fuckin' hoo. At least Ron can get it up. Fuck all this boy! I'm outta here!" Terry handed the paper bag to John. "There. Fuck with that." Terry turned and in a flash was out the door.
Big pussy? John couldn't believe she said that to him. He took the beer bottle out the bag. He'd recognize it anywhere. There was half left. John shrugged and took a big sip. It wasn't like kissing his wife - or now, ex-wife - it was like kissing death. Except much better.
John sprayed his wife's car with the hose, watching the soap dissolve and fall to the driveway languorously. He was almost done with this chore and would be glad to just sit down on the couch and have a Coke.
"Are you done yet?" called Terry from the back door, wearing tennis shorts and a white top. She actually had a tennis raquet as well. Lately, she'd been taking up tennis. John wasn't really impressed, just amused. Like all her fads, this one would go as well.
"Almost!" John called back, turning off the hose. "It's still wet!"
"Well, I gotta go, I'm late!" Terry stayed indoors watching John with the car. She shook her head and looked at her watch.
"Just have to wipe the doors a bit!"
Terry stormed out of the house and up to the car. "I have to get going. You said you'd be doen ten minutes ago!"
"Okay, okay, just let me dry as much as I can so you won't get yourself wet while driving." John pulled open the driver's side door drying the outer edges. He closed the door.
"Good, you're done!"
"No, no. I'll just do the other door." John trotted over to the other door, opened it, did a quick dry, and saw something on the passenger seat. "When will I see you again?" the note had said. John sneezed and closed the door in one motion. "Darn allergies! Well, I'm done here."
Terry raced into the car and started it up. "Okay, now if you'd let go the door handle, I could go?"
"Sorry," croaked John letting the door handle go, letting his wife go wherever she was going. John went back into the house and picked up the phone.
"Hello?" said the voice on the other end.
"Paula?"
"Yes, who else would it be?"
"My wife is having an affair."
"Yup," said Paula's voice on the phone, "she admitted it right there. Actually I didn't even have to push at all."
"So I was right," sighed John, holding the phone close. "Hey, I gotta go, I hear keys."
The door opened and Terry burst in, holding her purse firmly in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other. "Talking to Paula, I see?"
"She called to see if you got home okay" John put the phone down. "How was coffee?"
Terry smiled, still standing. "It was fine." She grimaced. "Went the way you hoped."
"The way I hoped?" John shrugged.
"Yeah you big pussy! Didn't even have the balls to confront me, for fuck sakes, I left the note for you to find the other day, I don't even know why, but you're slow and terrible and weak with everything you do. So, yes, I am having an affair. His name is Ron and he's Superman!"
"You're drunk." John pointed to the paper bag.
"Boo hoo, go cry to your fuckin' AA friends, boo fuckin' hoo. At least Ron can get it up. Fuck all this boy! I'm outta here!" Terry handed the paper bag to John. "There. Fuck with that." Terry turned and in a flash was out the door.
Big pussy? John couldn't believe she said that to him. He took the beer bottle out the bag. He'd recognize it anywhere. There was half left. John shrugged and took a big sip. It wasn't like kissing his wife - or now, ex-wife - it was like kissing death. Except much better.