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| Petra's Perfume | |
| Written by arablethecrocket | ||||||
| 15 May 2007 | ||||||
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I was challenged to write a story about smelly perfume. I hope this fits. If it lacks a little of my usual humour I appologise. I did enjoy writing it though Petra’s Perfume By Alan Crook Being of what might be called of “A large persuasion!” was a distinct disadvantage to Petra. This regal title was given to her by her adoring neighbour. He wasn’t exactly small either, but he had a heart of gold and he was truly in love with his oversize opposite number. He would have crawled over ten miles of burning coal just to smell the exhaust fumes from the van that took her dirty linen to the laundry if she would but ask him. But she didn’t ask him and wouldn’t ask him and spent weeks when she wouldn’t even look at him. He would leave flowers on her door step and she would complain about the mess they left. He would leave chocolates in her porch and she would complain because he was not encouraging her to diet. He bought her books and spent small fortunes on evenings out, he even bought her a ring but each was met with some aggravating throw back. They would argue like lovers, and call each other names in public. They would go to parties together and she would throw herself at other men then totally ignore Henry until it was time for a lift home. On the way home she would extol the virtues of all the men who she tried to conquer but who in turn had braced themselves against wall to avoid her. Henry’s only reward was a grudging peck on the cheek and some tartly placed put down designed to keep him in his place. She ate like a Gannet and her snoring kept Henry awake even though they slept in separate houses. Her every demand was met with a meek submission in the vague hope that she would give in and accept his proposal of marriage, but after ten years of trying the only thing she submitted to was another plate of fish and chips. Henry was loosing his strength, his patience, and his job but he was frightened to let on knowing full well the final blow would definitely fall if she knew his predicament. Henry’s colleagues had become fed up with his increasing lack luster performance as his sales job showed less and less promise and the cost of keeping him on was outweighing the trade he brought in. They didn’t want to sack him. His firm had always thought highly of his loyalty and doggedness. As the blows fell harder and harder from Petra so his feet sank further into the ground and his shoulders followed suit. He wasn’t totally blind to the situation he tried desperately with all the mêlée of problems but when the axe fell he fell. Henry walked home on his last day, the company car being locked safely in the compound. He opened the door to a pile of envelopes with windows, and a cold draught because the heating hadn’t come on. Still wearing his coat he sat on his settee and went to sleep. Two days later he woke up. Henry wasn’t even hungry he just had a burning urge to wander the morning streets and do a little people watching. The only really interesting person he met was a very old woman who was trying to sell bits and bobs from her ancient life. Every piece on her small stall carried a story and Henry stayed some time as she related the tales behind each one. She seemed in an even worse position than he was. In an act of desperation Henry bought a large almost full bottle of perfume from the old girl and listened patiently as she relayed the tale of its existence. His only thought was perhaps this would turn the tide with Petra. At home he sat warming himself with a cup of tea and studying his plan of approach to his desire. He was fiddling with the bottle and spilt just the tiniest drop on the edge of his finger. The room was full of the most delicious smell that he had ever encountered. It filled him with zest. He started to sing, what’s more his voice was worthy of the song. He had a shower, he had a shave he even polished his shoes why he had absolutely no idea. It didn’t smell like that as he was talking to the old woman he told himself. Right enough it wasn’t unpleasant but it didn’t smell this good. He took it out into the street just to see if it smelt the same and it did. Mrs. Good from the other side of his terrace house walked out and invited him in for a cup of tea. She had never done that in ten years of his living there. He telephoned for a job interview and was offered the post over the phone. He phoned a television contest for a car and won. He even had a tax rebate that he hadn’t applied for. Inside a week he gained a brand new fancy car, a highly paid job at which he was already successful. He had a tax rebate fit for a king and many other strange benefits beside, but he didn’t have Petra. Henry was confused, she wouldn’t even answer his calls. Mrs. Good wouldn’t have minded if he had his wicked way with her there and then whilst the kettle boiled, but Petra just looked at him through the window as he polished his new car. More as an act of peevishness Petra broke the ice when she came out to complain about the amount of water that he was wasting on “that car”. This was her down fall. She smelt Henry’s perfume. She fought extremely hard and won. She felt a slight touch of pride when she closed the door behind herself. She hadn’t fallen, but she was curious, and she had to admit Henry did look more appealing than of late. After an hour she called across the fence and asked what that terrible smell was. Henry felt the vibrations from her jealousy, and he was sad to think that he really didn’t want to know her any more. He explained about the perfume and were it came from and the fact that he bought it as a gift for her. Her peevishness dug in again and in a petulant huff she said he could keep it she wasn’t interested. She marched from the fence and slammed the door behind her. She had a terrible night. She tossed and turned and eventually climbed from her bed at six am incapable of days work so she phoned in to make her excuses. As her day at home wore on she felt a little better and with her key she let herself in next door. She didn’t have long to look. There was the bottle in his bathroom cabinet. With a greedy hand she sprayed herself with the perfume. She felt great. She started to sing but solicited a banging from next door. She went onto the street, instantly it started to rain. She didn’t care she felt great. She went on the bus just for a ride. Her boss got on the bus and she was constantly struggling to find an excuse for her being out when she claimed she had the flue. She lost her purse, her credit cards and an awful lot of the zest she felt after the clandestine mission for the elixir. Gradually her day fell apart until she climbed the stairs to her bed. Her second foray into his house was a little confusing. When she left the bottle the last time she had all but emptied it now it was full again. The house was full of a goodness that she couldn’t explain. She tried the perfume again but not quite so much this time. It was Saturday so she thought she would indulge in her favourite sport, shopping. The rain tipped from the sky. Her bus was full. People avoided her holding their noses. She was escorted from the shopping mall by two huge men. The rain carried on falling and she was forced to walk home because the busses were full and the taxi driver just looked at her and said “With that smell? You have to be joking!” It was hard to tell the raindrops from the teardrops as she walked home. Henry drew up in his fancy car but she didn’t notice him at first. He drove alongside her but she was so full of self pity that she wanted to say something terrible to him. Her own petulance was spent. She had walked for a mile that was about three quarters of a mile more than usual. She was soaking wet. She was fat. She was ugly, and now she smelt terrible. Still the only one who was blind to all this was Henry. He still drove slowly beside her waiting for her to accept his offer of a lift. Her fall was mighty. Her tears were huge and her sobbing wracked her chest. She gave in and opened the door. That same smell was there. That same zest for life was there. His warmth was there and his smile and his kindness. What’s more he was there. He was Henry. He hadn’t changed, just the joy of him permeated her even more than his perfume. She realized that she had wasted a whole ten years. She had felt it was more important to be chased than caught and now all her silly games felt just that, silly. The rain had stopped. They were at home. She was dry. His car door opened and strode to her side to open her door. Before she got out of the car he asked her to marry him and she agreed. In the space of two seconds she became slim and beautiful, her hair was radiant and she could see clearly. In truth her body hadn’t changed one jot and nor had any of the other things but being in love had recreated her on the inside.
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