A Free Short Story: The Fool's Mushroom: Part One
The Fool's Mushroom: Part One
Melanie browsed through the little corner boutique. The summer fashions were dominated by bright yellow and burnt orange colours. God how she hated burnt orange; thoughts of that awful bridesmaid dress flooded her memory. She had looked like a giant orange puff ball. Her sister: the bride, had gone to great lengths to make sure no one over shadowed her wedding or her dress. To this day that horrendous colour made her cringe; she'd even had to change her damn living room suite. She'd loved that orange coloured living room suite.
Melanie decided there was nothing she really fancied and headed for the door. Passing the elaborate window display she glanced at the mannequins in the window. Suddenly she stopped. Her heart started to beat faster, a thin layer of sweat broke out over her upper lip, the first signs of a migraine started to set in. ''Jesus.'' Melanie said under her breath; her face clouded with rising anger.
Looking through the glass window she spotted her husband Clifford. He was sitting outside a busy little bistro across the road from the boutique. The same busy little bistro that they often visited on Sunday mornings for milky coffees and sweet jammy donuts. Melanie leaned further forward balancing on her sandal clad tip toes almost squashing her chubby nose against the pristine glass. Clifford wasn't alone. Clifford the bastard was doing more than drinking coffee. The bastard was holding not just one hand but both hands belonging to some... some woman. A chocolate curly haired woman. A very pretty, slim, chocolate curly haired woman.
Melanie gapped out the window; her mouth opening and closing like a fish. Her blue eyes blazed. The usually denim glad Clifford was wearing his best beige trousers. His stupid face was clean shaven; his favorite faded rugby shirt complete with spag bol stains was replaced with the blue polo shirt she'd bought him for his 40th birthday. The one he said he didn't like. Melanie's eyes almost popped out of her head as she watched Clifford lean in closer to the woman. The chocolate haired woman leaned in closer to Clifford.
''That bastard... that... that tart.'' Melanie seethed. They were both beaming and getting very close.''Oh dear God! They're going to kiss.'' Her breakfast of fried eggs on toast threatened to resurface and explode all over the display window.
''Excuse me madam.''
Melanie turned around to find a young immaculately dressed sales assistant staring at her: her nose turned up and her pretty little mouth pursed tightly.
Melanie swallowed hard; with great effort she said. ''Yes dear!''
''Would you please get out of the window display. Your putting potential customers off.'' The sales assistant posed, a slim hand sitting on her trim waist. She looked Melanie up and down with an air of distaste.
''Oh! err... I was... I mean...'' Melanie stammered pointing out the window. ''Em... do you... do you have this dress in blue?'' Melanie grabbed at a burnt orange coloured dress hugging the thin form of one on the mannequins in the window display.
The sales assistant raised an eyebrow. ''No madame! that dress.'' She pointed at the mannequin. ''Only comes in a size eight.''
''I didn't ask you about sizes. I asked about colour...'' Melanie emphasized through gritted teeth. Struggling to look over her shoulder at the same time.
''Well then, you get two no's for the price of one. We don't have it in blue and we don't have it in your size.'' The assistant said; a big smirk spreading across her thin little face.
Melanie smoothed her polka dot pleated dress over her chubby white knees, stepping down from the window she retorted. ''Yes, well that's a shame. I hate the colour burnt orange. I guess I'll just have to take my business else where.'' Running bright red manicured fingers through her bleached blond bob she strode toward the exit.
Pulling open the door she immediately looked across the street to the bistro. Clifford and the chocolate tart where pulling away from what looked like an intimate embrace. The tart stood from the table fiddling with the belt on her high waisted yellow trousers. She fingered a burnt orange necklace nestling in a very pert bosom adorned by a tight white T-shirt. Clifford the ridiculous prat stood too. Picking a smart burnt orange coloured purse from the table he handed it to the tart. Melanie watched in amazement; he'd never ever be seen dead holding her bag, fair enough it was a lot bigger and heavier and very pink... but still.
Clifford and the chocolate haired tart said their goodbyes. She walked away, burnt orange heels clicking on the pavement, chocolate curly hair bobbing around her shoulders; a last little wave and she disappeared around the corner.
Melanie took great big deep breaths desperately trying to stay calm. She hated the colour burnt orange more then ever. Clifford the prat sat back down and waved at the waiter, a huge grin on his stupid face. A few minutes later the waiter came back with coffee and sweet jammy donuts.
She wanted to run straight over to Clifford and put her hands around his skinny neck; squeezing till his face turned blue; as blue as his damn polo shirt. She wanted to smash his bloody face in. Melanie rubbed her tummy. The eggs were still threatening to go mobile.
God, she wanted to kill him. How could he do this to her? She was a good wife. There was always food in the house; well food in the fridge. Em... well food at the take away down the road. She kept the house clean... mostly. And she worked. Her part time job at the nursing home was tough. It was working nights that played havoc with her weight. Those old folks slept all through the night. What the hell was she supposed to do for ten hours. Every one snacks watching the telly.
Standing there in the boutique doorway: humiliated and mortified Melanie watched her cheating little shit of a husband. She watched as he sat drinking his coffee and eating his sweet jammy donuts. Regaining a little composure, Melanie made a decision.
She was going to kill her husband...
© 2011 Gabriel Wilson