Saturday, 13 September 2008

Something for the Weekend

Flash Fiction is growing in popularity . . . so I thought I'd have another go . . . . this one is called Beryl.

Beryl is a scrubber. For Beryl there is no greater pleasure than to be elbow deep in a bucket full of soapy suds and on her knees scrubbing every inch of dirt from the cracked linoleum that is Mr Baxter's kitchen floor. Her fingers are scrubbed red raw; the detergent stings, but Beryl refuses to wear gloves, professing to dislike the smell of rubber and, she explains, they make her hands hot.
Mr Baxter, in his big black policeman boots, treads slow deliberate footprints across the kitchen floor. Muddy and thick. They lead to a stool from where Mr Baxter sits to watch Beryl work; from where he watches her wobbling bare buttocks sway rhythmically in time with the scrubbing. Later, Mr Baxter will make Beryl a nice cup of tea and pay her handsomely for her trouble.


Gorilla Bananas said...

Ah, yes, excellent use of the word "buttocks". Wait a minute, her buttocks are bare! Oh I see now....
is she completely starkers or is there a garment which leaves only the buttocks exposed?

scarlet-blue said...

I shall leave that up to the reader to decide . . . your choice!

Dr Maroon said...

A splendid tale. Magnifique!
It is terrifying too though isn't it? I hate Baxter.
Scarlet, whatever this new form is called you have mastered it.
I really hate that Baxter. I mustapha cuppa.


Mu Tai Dong said...

I see you buttocks!!

scarlet-blue said...

Thank-you Dr Maroon, most kind of you. And Mu Tai Dong, you also like buttocks?

Kevin Musgrove said...

Obviously one of those fanatical cleaning ladies who don't want bits of lint falling onto the bits of the floor she's just scrubbed.

At which point does Molly Weir turn up with her packet of Flash?

Dr Maroon said...

Scarlet , please do not take notice of me. I am a bit hungover and sensitive.I am thinking too much. It's a belter of a story in two paragraphs.
I wish i were twenty years you8nger, in actu8al fact, I don't.
I am so pleased to be 49.
You've cracked it. It's the best thing I've read in months.

scarlet-blue said...

Hello Kevin, Clothes get in the way of everything don't they?

Hello Dr Maroon, no worries, and as I said to Kevin; clothes get in the way of everything don't they?