by Bill West
I mumble. I drag my gaze from the pillowed
crevasse of Maureen's cleavage, back to her stony
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.
uncertain whether Maureen is answering the
question, or delivering a judgement.
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.
good enough to eat! I bellow in my best
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.
maniacally into her eyes I say, Yum, yum.
and drop the sliver of carrot into my mouth, and
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.
in my groin as Maureen grabs my shoulders and
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.