Previous Challenge Entry (Level 3 - Advanced)
Topic: Grrr! (01/28/10)
- TITLE: Plumbing the Depths of Her Love
By Lyn Churchyard
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The noise—make that racket—coming from the kitchen was punctuated by exasperated bellowing.
A medium-sized wrench flew past Beth as she appeared in the doorway, missing her by inches. “Alistair, what on earth are you doing?”
Alistair jerked his head up at the sound of her voice. CRACK! “Yeowch!” he stood up rubbing the back of his head. “I’m trying to fix the disposal unit.” He said, aiming a kick at his toolbox. The toolbox, as is the nature of toolboxes, resisted his futile attempt to send it to the naughty corner.
Beth tried to stifle the laugh that threatened to bubble over as Alistair clutched his foot and hopped around the floor.
“Honey, calm down.”
Her husband stopped mid hop to glare at her, “Calm down? Calm down? That… that thing... grrr…” he spluttered, spinning around to point an accusing finger at he sink, “is trying to kill me!”
“Grrr, grrr, grrr.” a black and white blur, in the form of Jasper, their mixed-breed retriever, shot through the back door to join in the fun. He bounced up and down, his tail wagging furiously as he leapt on Alistair thinking this was some glorious game.
“Grrrr!” snarled Alistair, “Get down you stupid dog!”
“Grrr… grrr,” agreed Jasper, becoming more excited.
Alistair tried to back away from their overexcited pet and found the only patch of water on the floor. Wind-milling his arms furiously, his feet shot out from under him and he found himself flat on his back.
His wife gripped the doorframe, and tears rolled down her cheeks as she doubled up, hooting with laughter as Jasper pawed Alistair, wanting to continue the game.
Struggling to his feet, Alistair managed to shoo their pet out the back door before turning to give his wife a look of reproach. “I’m glad you find this so amusing.”
“Would it help if I said ‘I’m sorry’?”
“It might, it might.” Alistair picked up a three-inch piece of pipe and lobbed it towards the sink.
CRASH… tinkle and two Royal Doulton statues toppled over, each shattering into a dozen pieces.
For the space of a dozen heartbeats, there was silence while they both stared at the porcelain fragments.
“Oh honey, I am so sorry!” Alistair stared at his wife aghast, the statues had been a first anniversary present from him ten years ago, and she treasured them.
Beth reached up and took his face between her hands. “Mr. Johnson, those statues were precious to me because you gave them to me. You, however, are much more precious to me than a thousand pieces of fancy porcelain.”
A low growl emanated from deep within Alistair’s chest, and he pulled her into his arms. “Is it any wonder I love you as much as I do, Mrs. Johnson?”
Behind them the sink emitted its own response, Grrr—gurgle—shudder—ping and a stream of water shot towards the ceiling. Alistair felt his wife’s shoulders begin to shake, and his laughter instantly joined hers.
“Shall I call the plumber?” Beth asked, looking at the water lapping at their feet.
“Grrreat idea,” said Alistair, as his lips met hers.
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