Some more February fiction for you
Yes, I know you always bring me flowers. That’s not the point, Cupie. You give everybody flowers! And whilst we’re at it, next time we go out for a meal, can’t you wear a suit? Or, at the very least, some clothes?
Anyway, I’m sick of the constant meals out, and, excuse me, but what is it with the dozen red roses, anyway? Yes, I know they’re supposed to be romantic, but weren’t you listening when I told you I’m allergic to pollen?
I want to stop in! I want to doss about in my hoodie and jeans, watch Corrie whilst I eat Spaghetti Hoops straight from the tin, or Frosties without faffing about with milk, or a bowl. I want a curry! I want to stink of garlic, not oysters, or Chanel No 5.
And chocolate! It’s chocolate, chocolate, chocolate with you, isn’t it, Cupie? No imagination whatsoever. Why not licorice, or some butterscotch? Maybe even some wine gums?
As for that harpie of a mother of yours – and her boy friend! Can’t even have an argument without a fight, or a fight without a 10 year war.
It doesn’t even begin to bother you that Mummy’s slept with the entire male population of Greece, and most of Mt Olympus, does it? Oh no, that’s because you’re in the family business, too.
I should’ve married Apollo, or even Vulcan. Oh I know he’s ugly as Hades, and smells of smoke and sweat, but you know where you’re at with a smith. Good, solid, dependable kind of blokes. As for you, why, you’re a professional flirt!
Right, I’m off down Athens t’ fish shop for a tray of chips and mushy peas. You can stuff that box of choccies up that naked, immortal arse of yours – and your bow, and your arrows, too.
If you enjoyed this story, check out my collection “What! No Pudding?” available on Amazon. Another short story collection is being planned for later this year.