Short Stories to Entertain

She was upstairs when the telephone rang but she had no problem hearing it. The polished wood flooring of the hallway and lack of soft furnishings created a hard space where the loud bell could echo and resonate throughout the house. Sitting on the bed she inspected her nails. One last swipe with the emery board, the scraping she knew scratched at his nerves which was why she was doing it now, to avoid a later minor skirmish. She saved the doing of it in his presence for when she wanted to make a point, to emphasize an issue, to de liberately get under his skin. She did not rush to answer the call. She was not that sort of person and rarely rushed to do anything. Slowly she put the nail file on the bedside table deliberately placing it where she had asked for a phone to be installed just to remind her how ludicrous it was to deny such a simple and necessary luxury.

  The pipes banged at exactly six-thirty. A resonating thumping that carried through the whole building e very morning the same without fail. It was the cook turning on the cold water to fill the egg poaching pans at the same time as Mrs Gloria Dubonnet stood up, pulled up her very ample knickers and flushed the loo in her small flat immediately above the kitchen. The vibrating row persisting until the cistern replenishment was complete. Then resuming as the many guests trotted in their pre-agreed order to the three bathrooms, one on each floor. Each turn of a tap or flush of a loo starting a kind of harmonic organ-like arrangement the sort that might be heard in a very contemporary recital . 

  I had been feeling melancholy for the last few days and was dreamily watching the rain lashing against the window thinking about how life could be such a bitch. Stuff was going down everywhere. Cards cloned and finances flushed down the old crapper. My boss giving me a cardboard box to fill and a cheque for six months' pay without too much explanation. Paddling in the freezer puddle and chucking out rotting food. And the boys? Well, the boys, need I say more. Loud and rushing about. Then the car. What a pile of old rusted junk. I was just thinking how pleasant it would be to be free of all this, to have a life of carefree abandon. Then, after a short spell of silent contemplation, with a shrug of resignation I abandoned my thoughts in exchange for the sanctuary of my bed.