Free Wally
by Bill West
“I'm up
here.”
“What?”
I mumble. I drag my gaze from the pillowed
crevasse of Maureen's cleavage, back to her stony
glare.
“I was
just wondering what your goldfish is called?”
I lie. “Sorry, was that Molly?” I
struggle to hear anything above the noise of a
party in full swing.
“Wally!”
I hesitate,
uncertain whether Maureen is answering the
question, or delivering a judgement.
“He's a
beauty.” I declare as I sandwich my cheeks
between my hands and do my classic impression of
a goldfish gaping.
Sensing she is
preparing to escape I launch into plan B.
“He looks
good enough to eat!” I bellow in my best
theatrical voice.
As my left
hand delves into my pocket, to palm the golden
sliver of carrot I prepared earlier, I plunge my
right hand into the fish tank and catch Wally.
Maureen
shrieks.
Staring
maniacally into her eyes I say, “Yum, yum.”
and drop the sliver of carrot into my mouth, and
swallow.
There is
something sharp, wriggling in my throat. I stare
in disbelief at the oh so unconvincing slice of
carrot in my other hand. I start to gag.
Pain explodes
in my groin as Maureen grabs my shoulders and
knees me.
I wretch and
watch with envy as Wally's tail waves farewell as
he slips down between Maureen's breasts.
I sink to the
floor and adopt a foetal position.
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