1st Place - My Funny Valentine
Saturday, February 14 2009 @ 12:00 PM MST
Views: 338
Views: 338
HEALING WITH HUMOR -- MY FUNNY VALENTINE
FIRST PLACE: "He Knows" by Heather Gregson
This story made our judges laugh and they loved the twist. We're sure you will, too. Editors
Claire put the key in the lock and released a shaky breath. Maybe he wouldn’t know. Maybe she would get away with it this one time. No, she knew he would know of her indiscreet transgression the second she stepped through the door. Bracing herself, she turned the key and stepped into the foyer.
“I’m home, sorry I’m late but a couple of us got together for drinks after work,” she called out, as she removed her coat. Before she even turned around she knew he was there. His cold eyes glared daggers through her. She knew her awful mistake was a secret no more. She'd been unfaithful and he knew it.
“You must be starved, let me fix you a plate of something,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. Show no fear, she mentally chided herself. You’ll give yourself away. Knowing she could win his heart through food, Claire prepared a shrimp feast, which was ignored in favor of icy condemnation. Nothing was going to sway him from his silent accusations. Accusations Claire knew to be well-founded. She fidgeted around the kitchen, washing the few dishes left soaking in the sink.
“You’re not going to eat it. Well, I’m not going to beg you to. I’m not going to get into this with you now, either. I’m going to bed.” She left the kitchen and went to the bedroom.
He never spoke to her. He never touched his food. He just sat in silent, simmering anger. After all the years he’d devoted to her, she had the nerve to act so casual about her infidelity. Imagine offering him food, as if food could repair his shattered trust, the shreds of his tattered heart. Phht, he didn’t need her. There were lots of women out there who would love him and remain faithful. He heard them admire his good looks. He’d wait until morning and then he’d leave. He’d pick up the remains of his dignity and walk out the door, leaving this faithless tart behind.
Alone in their room, Claire got ready for bed. Somehow the bed always seemed too large when she was alone. Oh well, there was nothing that could change the past, what was done was done. Several times that night she reached over to feel her only company was an empty pillow. In the dark of the night she heard him unleash him temper on the house.
When she awoke in the morning she saw the extent of his rage. The bathroom curtains were in a crumpled heap on the floor, the towels joined them in a scattered mess. When she entered the kitchen she saw this room hadn’t escaped his wrath. The trash barrel was knocked over, its contents strewn across the floor. The paper towels were torn with vicious malice. Here too, the curtains had been ripped from their rods.
Claire looked at him. He looked angrier than he had the previous night. Refusing to let him win this battle of wills, Claire cleaned up the remnants of his rage and fried up some bacon. She sat at the table and offered him a piece.
Bacon?!? She thought she could end this with bacon? He’d show her. He stomped over and snatched the piece right out of her hand.
“Oh, nothing is so bad a little bacon can’t cure it,” she said, offering him another piece.
He snatched this piece too. She offered him another. He took it.
“It was an accident, I didn’t mean for it to happen. We went to Ken’s after work for a drink and his cat jumped in my lap before I could stop it. You can’t think for one moment I would want or love any cat but you, Mr. Fooffiedoodles.”
Claire walked over and unlatched the cat door. Mr. Foofiedoodles looked at the means of his departure. Now he could follow through with his plans to leave her. A chilling breeze came through the wavering flap. Ahh, forget it, he’d forgive her this time. After all, it was cold out and she had bacon. He rolled over and purred.
FIRST PLACE: "He Knows" by Heather Gregson
This story made our judges laugh and they loved the twist. We're sure you will, too. Editors
Claire put the key in the lock and released a shaky breath. Maybe he wouldn’t know. Maybe she would get away with it this one time. No, she knew he would know of her indiscreet transgression the second she stepped through the door. Bracing herself, she turned the key and stepped into the foyer.
“I’m home, sorry I’m late but a couple of us got together for drinks after work,” she called out, as she removed her coat. Before she even turned around she knew he was there. His cold eyes glared daggers through her. She knew her awful mistake was a secret no more. She'd been unfaithful and he knew it.
“You must be starved, let me fix you a plate of something,” she said, trying to keep her voice steady. Show no fear, she mentally chided herself. You’ll give yourself away. Knowing she could win his heart through food, Claire prepared a shrimp feast, which was ignored in favor of icy condemnation. Nothing was going to sway him from his silent accusations. Accusations Claire knew to be well-founded. She fidgeted around the kitchen, washing the few dishes left soaking in the sink.
“You’re not going to eat it. Well, I’m not going to beg you to. I’m not going to get into this with you now, either. I’m going to bed.” She left the kitchen and went to the bedroom.
He never spoke to her. He never touched his food. He just sat in silent, simmering anger. After all the years he’d devoted to her, she had the nerve to act so casual about her infidelity. Imagine offering him food, as if food could repair his shattered trust, the shreds of his tattered heart. Phht, he didn’t need her. There were lots of women out there who would love him and remain faithful. He heard them admire his good looks. He’d wait until morning and then he’d leave. He’d pick up the remains of his dignity and walk out the door, leaving this faithless tart behind.
Alone in their room, Claire got ready for bed. Somehow the bed always seemed too large when she was alone. Oh well, there was nothing that could change the past, what was done was done. Several times that night she reached over to feel her only company was an empty pillow. In the dark of the night she heard him unleash him temper on the house.
When she awoke in the morning she saw the extent of his rage. The bathroom curtains were in a crumpled heap on the floor, the towels joined them in a scattered mess. When she entered the kitchen she saw this room hadn’t escaped his wrath. The trash barrel was knocked over, its contents strewn across the floor. The paper towels were torn with vicious malice. Here too, the curtains had been ripped from their rods.
Claire looked at him. He looked angrier than he had the previous night. Refusing to let him win this battle of wills, Claire cleaned up the remnants of his rage and fried up some bacon. She sat at the table and offered him a piece.
Bacon?!? She thought she could end this with bacon? He’d show her. He stomped over and snatched the piece right out of her hand.
“Oh, nothing is so bad a little bacon can’t cure it,” she said, offering him another piece.
He snatched this piece too. She offered him another. He took it.
“It was an accident, I didn’t mean for it to happen. We went to Ken’s after work for a drink and his cat jumped in my lap before I could stop it. You can’t think for one moment I would want or love any cat but you, Mr. Fooffiedoodles.”
Claire walked over and unlatched the cat door. Mr. Foofiedoodles looked at the means of his departure. Now he could follow through with his plans to leave her. A chilling breeze came through the wavering flap. Ahh, forget it, he’d forgive her this time. After all, it was cold out and she had bacon. He rolled over and purred.