May 13. Mother’s Day. Befittingly too the date of our anniversary. That is to my beautiful albeit rather brusque tempest of a wife. Susie, well that’s what I call her anyhow, at least that’s how I address her normal side… Born in January, she arrived inseparable from the love of winter and for that reason we are all reclined comfortably watching Scrooge. The familiarity, however, bores me and rather fittingly, my subconscious takes me to a different time zone.
Christmas day 1965. Unofficial lovers. I watched as our families huddled by the fire, as it burnt away tendrils of cold discomfort. My hands, however, felt a different sensation, the premature touch of a woman. I reminisced fleetingly, that was until the meeting of our thighs was disturbed by my large squeal. She had tasered me… Conveniently I was rather dim-witted and managed to soak the burning flames of inquisition with the guise of uncanny acting and playfulness... A few minutes later, she began playing footsy. I watched as I evidently tensely enjoyed the moment, I mean it was hard when you had the fear of Raiden thundering through your naviculars. You see that’s how we all felt around Susie, safe from external invasion yet tiptoeing across the weightless stones of her guile waters.
I wrote this in 15 minutes for a client in response to a writing prompt.