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Great Writing - Home > Short S. > Molly Arbuckle---This time it's personal
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| Molly Arbuckle---This time it's personal | |
| By Bottleblondesurfer | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
| 24 August 2006 | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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A short and pithy response Givitsums last post (as he likes to take the pith) (new balls please) The shopkeeper looked up from his work to see to see a timid woman with a prematurely aged careworn face. He instinctively felt a well of sorrow and sympathy for her, he recognised the type and wanted to help. “No I’m afraid I don’t fix irons, there’s a chap I know in the next village” “Not any more there isn’t” “Oh he seemed, successful, did things die off then?". What did he mean by die off? She was suspicious of this crafty man. What was this little weasel hinting at? Was he just like the last one? He saw her frown and his sympathy for her grew his must try and help her. “Look I’m sure I can do something with it” He looked it over. With a horrible feeling of déjà vu she asked, “How much will it cost?” “Oh, let me see”.. Her grip tightened on the bread knife in her bag. He put it down, ”Oooooh about £3.50 tops”. Her grip on the knife slackened. “Plus, of course.”….She gripped the knife back again. “the awful VAT, must keep things legal, don’t want the law around” he said light-heartedly. He wanted to put the poor woman at ease with a joke. She dropped the knife but her suspicion grew: hinting at the law, was he cruelly taunting her? “And I want a rug, please” she said. He felt he had a calling to help these poor downtrodden women. He’d give her the best he had. “If you can wait I’ve got a really big man-sized on out the back”, and he gave her a friendly wink. So he must have guessed she thought and the bastard was toying with her. “Of course it costs a little more, but if you come through the back I’m sure we can come to an arrangement”. He was going to give it to her, just to see her smile and didn’t want to embarrass her in public. This is it Molly thought the final shakedown, bloody conniving shopkeepers: all the same. Well this was his last evil deed. As he walked through she plunged the knife into his back. As he fell his dying thought was “why do these poor women feel so threatened?” With a heavy heart Molly cleaned her fingerprints off the knife on the man’s tie and put it in his hand to look like suicide.She then put the iron back in her bag. Was this to be her lot in life, hustled by grasping shopkeepers and cruelly treated by her men. She was just a poor defenceless woman in a man’s world. She ran down the street and collided with a passer-by. “Ey-up lass, where’s t' fire” she looked up to see who it was with such a ready wit. Her heart melted when she saw him with his sexy beer gut, that seductive receding hairline, that manly stubble, sprouting from his ears. A picture of Yorkshire manhood. Could she dare to dream? "I’ll say this, you don’t’ sweat much for a fat lass”. he quipped Who was this silver tongued charmer who spoke such honeyed words to her, Just when she was about to despair her prince came along. “Fancy a pint of Thrapton’s kidney basher, love?” She smiled shyly and nodded. He walked on “Keep up lass We’re missing drinking time”. She skipped along the pavement with a spring in her step, a glint in her eye and a bloodied iron in her bag, she may have lost her heart but hadn’t lost her head. This was after all, Yorkshire
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