The girl in the rain 

Just an idea about a girl in the rain. I worked backwards from the ending.

When he offered her a lift home she wanted to say no, but the weather was awful out and she really didn’t fancy a walk to the station in the rain.  “Go on then” she responded reluctantly, “but just a lift okay, nothing more.”

James grinned that stupid boyish grin she had seen too many times before in married around the office.   “Cool” he replied “I’ll grab my coat and we can get off, won’t be a minute.”

She watched him scurry over to his desk, throw his laptop into his bag and pull on a dark raincoat over his well fitting navy suit.

“Thanks for this” she said as he walked back over.  He was an arsehole, she knew that too well after last year’s Christmas party, but he was an arsehole with a car and it had been a long day and she really didn’t fancy getting soaked.

“I’m parked in the exec section” he said smugly, “we can get the lift down.”

She followed him to the lifts and they stood saying nothing waiting for it.  Once inside, doors closed he spoke again “So are you seeing anyone?” he asked “it’s been ages since we chatted.”

“It was the Christmas party” Sarah answered sharply.

“Oh shit yeah” he replied awkwardly.  “Look I’m sorry about all that really I am – you know how it is when everyone’s had a drink.”

For a moment she actually believed him then remembered what had happened “How are the wife and kids?” She asked.  It was a bit of a low blow but he deserved it.

He shuffled uncomfortably but didn’t get to answer before the lift stopped, the doors opening with a ding.

“After you ” he said, allowing her to get out before him.  “I’m just over there” he said pointing towards a rather nice silver car.  She didn’t know anything about cars but it looked expensive.  He clicked his keys and the alarm beeped and lights flashed once.

“Nice car ” Sarah remarked, opening the door and climbing inside.  A lot nicer than the bus she thought to herself.

He threw his bag onto the back seat and climbed in next to her. “You still up near the school?” he asked starting the car.

“Please” she answered pulling on her seat belt and clinging to her bag.

“Cool, it’s on my way not a problem at all.” He smiled again.

She had grown to hate that smile, he was so certain of himself, so confident.  It hadn’t always been that way though, she’d been out with him and a few friend after work a few times after she’d first started working at the practice and he was never an arsehole.

“They’re all arseholes” her mum would tell her, “especially the married ones.”  She really was not good at taking advice.

James turned on the radio as they drove through the rain heading up through the town centre. “So, you never answered my question” he said looking across at her.

“And you never answered mine.”

“Oh come on” he replied laughing “you aren’t still cross with me are you?”

“Are you serious?” She really wished she’d caught the bus.

“It was just a bit of fun” he insisted “you know how it is.”

“it really hurt ok, you shouldn’t have done that to me, not in front of everyone.”

“I know I know” he said turning down the radio as they left the business of town and turned onto the bypass.  “I just thought you wanted to you know.”

“Jesus James” she snapped “I was drunk – everyone saw us!”

“Sarah, I know I was wrong okay, I’m really sorry.”

She stared out of the window watching the lights of the passing cars stream by, rain running down her window.

“Forgive me” he asked gently, looking across to catch her eye.

“Fine ” she said looking back across at him, she smiled.  “You can give me a lift next time it rains as well” she joked “then we’re quits okay.”

“Deal” he grinned turning the radio back up a little “you can have a lift anytime you want.”

“Just next time will be fine” Sarah answered, for the first time loosening her grip on her bag just a little. “Take the next left” she instructed “it’s a bit quicker.”

“No problem” James replied indicating and taking the corner then pulling to a stop.

“What are you doing?” Sarah asked pointing up the hill, “It’s still a way up there.”

James turned off the engine.  “Can I be honest with you?” he asked, one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the back of her chair.

“James, can we just go please” she snapped “I need to get home.”

“Just let me say this, ”  he insisted “Ever since that night I’ve thought about you a lot okay.”

“Jesus Christ!” she exclaimed “are you serious?”

“Oh come on” he continued placing a hand on her leg “no one needs to know, it’s no big deal.”

Sarah quickly unbuckled her belt and slapped his hand away from her leg, grabbed her bag and climbed out of the car into the rain.

“You’re an arsehole!” she shouted, “an absolute arsehole!”

“Sarah, come back please” he shouted.  She stood staring at him saying nothing, watching the rain fall onto the car seat through the open door.  “You’re getting my car soaked!” he shouted “are you getting back in or not?”

He didn’t wait long for an answer and reaching across the passenger seat he pulled the door closed.  “You mention this at work and I’ll just deny it!” he shouted through the still open window.  “No one will believe you” he continued, his face angry and his eyes narrowed.  Without waiting for her to answer he slammed the car into gear and roared off, leaving her alone again in the darkness.

Sarah pulled the belt of her coat tight, watching the red lights of the car shimmer in the rain and disappear into the night.  This time, she decided, this time she wouldn’t cry.

 

 


Want to read more of my stuff?  No.  Don’t blame you, no offence taken.

https://afterwards.blog/2017/07/29/a-collection-of-miserable-limericks/

https://afterwards.blog/2017/07/14/probing-a-cautionary-tale/

https://afterwards.blog/2017/07/03/first-blog-post/

https://afterwards.blog/2017/07/14/we-unlikely-few/

Https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/shimmer/

 

 

 

 

More miserable and inappropriate limericks – Not for the kiddies

Limericks about the darker side of life….Today I think I shall perhaps write about sexual harassment in the work place.

Limericks about the darker side of life….Today I think I shall perhaps write about sexual harassment in the work place, prison abuse and the evils of drugs.  All of which I know absolutely nothing.     Remember, It’s not big and it’s not clever…any of this.


A lass at our work called Tallulah

Approached a young lad with a ruler

proclaimed “Three and a half”

He:”You’re having a laugh, 

and it’s cold so do not let that fool ya”!


 

 

A young lad caught fiddling the books 

got locked up with the rapists and crooks

spent his days filled with dread

frightful thoughts in his head 

pretty mouth, lovely hair, rugged looks


A woman I knew, Enid Black

smoked some weed for an ache in her back 

then she dabbled in coke 

which she got from “some bloke” 

Now spends all day selling boobies for crack


 

There was another here but I think it goes too far but I struggle with boundaries…so if you choose to read it you have to scroll and scroll and scroll. 


 

Want to read more of my stuff?  No.  Don’t blame you, no offence taken.

https://afterwards.blog/2017/07/29/a-collection-of-miserable-limericks/

https://afterwards.blog/2017/07/14/probing-a-cautionary-tale/

https://afterwards.blog/2017/07/03/first-blog-post/

https://afterwards.blog/2017/07/14/we-unlikely-few/

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Husband wants rape sex role play

“Bloody hell no!” says wifey “No way!”

“That the spirit!” he cries

all ‘Trumpesque’ grabs her thighs

Now hes single, in jail, wife turned gay


 

Brothers #writephoto

Before he knew it Sam had punched him squarely in the nose.  Tom fell to the floor  clutching his face

“I dare you!” Thomas urged, pushing his brother in the back.  “Go on, go in there – it’ll be fine, he isn’t home.”

Sam turned on his brother.  Thomas was always so quick to volunteer someone else when it came to doing something stupid. “You go, I’m not going in there mum will kill me if I get caught”

“Big baby” laughed Thomas, the sun reflecting off his mop of yellow hair “I don’t know what you’re so scared of!”

“Shut up” shouted Sam, pushing his brother in the chest “you go in there then if you’re so brave!”

“Don’t need to, I have nothing to prove.”  Thomas teased.  He was 2 years younger but already an inch taller than Sam and the scar above his eye was proof that he wasn’t one for caution.

“And I do?” Sam asked “I’m not going in there.  I’m not scared I just don’t want to.”

“No of course you aren’t” Thomas smirked.

“I swear Tom, you’re such an idiot.”

“If I am I’m an idiot who isn’t scared to go near old man Hopkins’ place!”

“You know what Tom” Sam replied, fists clenched.  “Call me scared again and I’m going to punch you in the mouth!”  This always happened – Tom would come up with some stupid game or dangerous idea then get everyone else to do it and wouldn’t shut up until something went wrong.  It always did.

“Ha!  I’m not scared of you Sam!” Tom teased, “You’re the scared one remember!”

Before he knew it Sam had punched him squarely in the nose.  Tom fell to the floor  clutching his face. “You absolute idiot Sam!” Tom roared, blood already trickling from his nose “why did you have to do that I was only joking!”  He wiped his nose of the back of his hand, tears welling up in his eyes.

“Shit sorry Tom” Sam said reaching out to help his brother up “I didn’t mean to do that, honest!”  He might be annoying but he was his little brother.

“Oh you swore!” Said Tom laughing, taking his brother’s hand “just you wait until I tell mum!”

“God Tom” Sam smiled, “you’re such an idiot!  How about we go in there together”

“Go on then, I’ll keep you safe” he grinned.  “Then we need to get home, mum will be worried if we’re late”

 


Photo courtesy of Sue Vincent

Family #writephoto

“Oh will it, will it” Jean snapped “remember when you said you could do that charity walk with the cricket club and you couldn’t walk for a week after”

“You are going to live In a what!?” her mother asked quizzically, peering over the rim of her glasses.  She didn’t wait for an answer as it sunk in, she seldom did.  “Did you hear that Ronald, did you hear where they’re going to live?”

“Yes Jean” he replied sounding rather tired,  quickly folding his newspaper and scurrying to the kitchen to put the kettle on and to see if he could catch the football results on the radio.

“Mum, it will be fine, don’t worry ok.” said Leslie, she had expected this response.

“Do you still take sugar Leslie?” Ronald shouted from the kitchen as he fiddled with the radio.

“No thanks Dad, just milk please” she shouted back.

“Why on earth would you want do that dear?” Jean continued, “People like us don’t live in places like that.”

“We think it will be a wonderful  opportunity mum, John has looked into it and we agree that it would be a great adventure for us and the kids”

“Do you want a biscuit Leslie?”

“No thanks dad” Leslie responded “I’m having dinner when I get home.”

“Ok, more for me!”

“Mum, I know it sounds a bit crazy but you’ll love it I promise.”

“Honestly Leslie, what will the reading circle ladies think.  A windmill indeed.”  She shifted uncomfortably in her chair.  “You know dear, I don’t think we could possibly visit you know, surely it’s full of steps.  You know how your father is with his bad knee.”

“I’m sure it will be fine” came a contrary voice from the kitchen.

“Oh will it, will it” Jean snapped “remember when you said you could do that charity walk with the cricket club and you couldn’t move for a week after”

“Jean I will be fine.”

“Well don’t come crying to me begging for a lift when you can’t get to the pub because your knee is all swollen!”  Jean folded her arms defiantly and lowered her tone.  “I just think it’s frightfully selfish dear” she continued, “think of your father please.”

“Mum, it’s already done, John signed the papers and we move in in three weeks time.”

Jean said nothing as Ronald brought the tea through on a large round tray.  He’d also brought biscuits.  Ronald did like a nice biscuit with his cup of tea.

“So” aid Ronald cheerfully, handing Leslie a cup of tea.  “Tell me all about this new house you’ve got yourself.”

 

 

 

 

Photo courtesy of Sue Vincent

 

 

 

 

 

 

More tea vicar ? 

I should warn that should you read further you could find my post somewhat inappropriate, though that could also be down to you.  I am not one to judge.


I have written on the matter of tea twice already this week, and as a proud Englishman and Yorkshireman I believe that it is a subject worth revisiting.

Not that I am particularly fond of the stuff, I am not.  But seeing the daily prompt I was reminded of something of a running battle that has raged in our house for a number of years now.

I should warn that should you read further you could find my post a little inappropriate, though that could also be down to you.  I am not one to judge.

My wife insists on insisting, much to my frustration, that on a hot day a nice cup of tea will cool one down.  Now before you rush off to Google to see whether it has a voice on the matter I will confess that any answers it may provide could possibly be construed as confirming that fact.  There are posts on the science of heating one’s core to trigger the bodies natural cooling mechanisms.

I do not care one jot what Google says on the matter, if you are drinking a scalding cup of anything on a boiling hot day it will inevitably make you feel somewhat sweatier than a nice pinacolada will.

Despite pointing that out to her, the merest mention of sunshine and she is ready to trot out her well worn offering of a nice cup of tea knowing that I will both refuse her not at all kind offer but also rant and rage much to her pleasure.

I do however get to occasionally exercise my revenge, which is always best served cold, unlike tea.   It’s important to note at this point that my wife likes to leave the tea bag in the cup as she drinks her tea.

If we have visitors then I like to ask her, loudly and in front of as many of them as is possible (and if children are about even better), “Do you want ‘teabagin’ hun?”

The pleasure is amplified if I can get my 9 yeah old to shout it.  “Mum, dad wants to know if you want teabagin.”

At worse I will be the recipient of a withering look, and if I am lucky I will be on the sharp end of rolling eyes and a “god, what are you 13 years old!”

I may not win them all but when I do, the sweetness of battle is oh so delicious…

 


https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/Tea/

 


More? You could see if you like any of this

https://afterwards.blog/2017/07/24/screw-you-haiku/

https://afterwards.blog/2017/07/03/first-blog-post/

https://afterwards.blog/2017/07/14/we-unlikely-few/

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/tea/