Mulled Vine

HER SIDE OF THE STORY

My husband was in an odd mood Saturday night. We planned to meet at a cafe for a drink. I spent the afternoon shopping with the girls and I thought it might have been my fault because I was a bit later than I promised but he didn’t say anything about it. I don’t remember doing anything to make him upset, but I could tell there was something wrong.

The conversation was quite slow going so I thought we should go off to someplace intimate so we could talk more privately. We went to this restaurant and he was STILL acting a bit funny. I was getting really worried, what did I do? What was bothering him? Was he mad at me?

I tried to cheer him up, but started to wonder what was bothering him. Was it me or something else? I asked him if he was upset with me, he said no. But I wasn’t really sure. In the car on the way back home, I said that I loved him deeply and he just put his arm around me. I didn’t know what the heck that meant because, you know, he didn’t say it back or anything. We finally got back home and I was wondering if he was going to leave me! So I tried to get him to talk but he just switched on the TV.

Reluctantly, I said I was going to go to bed. Then after about 10 minutes, he joined me and to my surprise, we made love. But, he still seemed really distracted, so afterwards I wanted to confront him but didn’t, so I just cried myself to sleep. I just don’t know what to do anymore. I mean, I really think he’s seeing someone else.

HIS SIDE OF THE STORY

Played badly today — shot 97 – - -can’t putt for shit! Felt kind of tired.

Got laid though.

It looked at him, head askew, eyes full of hunter’s cunning, teeth bared in a deep, snarling welcome. Ug-Tah crouched before the immense Saber Tooth tiger, hands gripping his primitive spear with a survivor’s intensity. He was his clan’s best hunter and with the encroaching winter this was likely to be his last big kill of the season.

But today was different from other hunts; Ug-Tah was tired of hunting, preferring to spend afternoons sitting outside his cave, surveying the valley below, watching his children at play, mixing the colours with which he tried to capture the beauty around him in rough, urgent strokes.

His eyes filmed over dreamily as he contemplated these things, before his last moments were filled with wonder at the magnificent beauty of this creature that leapt towards him, carrying eternity in its fangs.

He stood outside the wooden cottage, listening to the silence interspersed with creaking trees and lone nightingales calling for mates. The pile of wood he had just chopped lay stacked high against the rough wooden wall of his timber lodge. It was going to be a tough winter, he could sense it, and was glad that their stores were full from the plentiful summer: cured meat, dried fruit, roots and even a bit of flour from their little patch of land. Every year the trees encroached on their space, and every year he hacked back the forest, using the wood to help them survive the increasingly harsh winters. He felt a gentle touch on his arm; his wife, done with her chores, joined him in contemplating the early evening sky, whispy clouds following the auburn setting sun. The forest watched the couple, waiting, patient – soon the axe would tire and the trees would return to their rightful place.

A fellow bought a new Mercedes and was out on the interstate for a nice evening drive. The top was down, the breeze was blowing through what was left of his hair and he decided to open her up. As the needle jumped up to 80 mph, he suddenly saw flashing red and blue lights behind him. “There’s no way they can catch a Mercedes,” he thought to himself and opened her up further. The needle hit 90, 100…. Then the reality of the situation hit him. “What am I doing?” he thought and pulled over. The cop came up to him, took his license without a word and examined it and the car. “It’s been a long day, this is the end of my shift and it’s Friday the 13th. I don’t feel like more paperwork, so if you can give me an excuse for your driving that I haven’t heard before, you can go.” The guy thinks for a second and says, “Last week my wife ran off with a cop. I was afraid you were trying to give her back!” “Have a nice weekend,” said the officer.

She lay on the grassy, daisy smitten carpet staring at the endless sky above, not sure if the hue was blue or azure. The clouds wafted by, playing tag with each other, wondering where the wind would be taking them today, but not too fussed either way. The sun hung in self-centered, emblazoned glory, quite bored, shining hopefully on the little girl below, looking for a little appreciation. She basked in the rays, oblivious to the fragile neediness above, dreaming of castles in the sky, princes on white stallions, love.
A mother hedgehog snuffled by, lifting its nose in danger sensitive expectation, but carried on nonetheless.

Time slowed, then paused to capture the scene forever in the immortal full stop.

“Doctor, I’m very sick, I need to be examined but please speak up because I’m a little bit deaf.”

“Certainly my good man, can you list the symptoms?”

“Of course. There’s Homer, Marge, Bart, Lisa….”

She said, “Henry, what a beautiful sunset, don’t you think?”
He said, “Huh? Oh. Looks just like the one yesterday.”
She said, “I just love this place, sitting here on this bench by the sea, with my favourite man in all the world.”
He said, “There’s that bloody seagull again, the one with the orange beak – it’d better not shit on me again like last week!”
She said, “Henry, you know we’ve been friends a long time and we’re not getting any younger – don’t you think its about time we were getting married?”
He paused reflectively, then turned to her and replied, “Aye, lass, I’ve been thinking just the same thing of late, but who would have us?”

The little girl stood at the foot of the giant oak tree which for so many years had stood inaccessible, towering, beckoning at the bottom of the family garden.

For years she had stood like today, looking up at the manifold branches, the heavenly stairway of her dreams, but today was different – she could reach the bottom branch, and so she reached up, tentatively at first, before eagerly grabbing the branch firmly and pulling herself up.

She paused a moment, triumphantly, before she resumed her ascent, branch by branch, finally arriving at the top where she peered through the verdant curtain at her beloved world below and shouted with glee, “Look at me!”

The world however did not notice or applaud any of this, preferring to carry on with more important things like making money and wars.

She sighed and sat down, noticing for the first time the neighbours’ cat cowering on the branch besides her, claws embedded firmly in the bark. She stroked the cat who looked up at her hopefully, wondering what all the fuss was about and whether this person was there to feed her.

I resigned today over religious differences with my boss.

He thought he was God, and I disagreed.