A quickie that I haven't edited too carefully so there are probably a fair few spags. Having said that the formatting seems to go all to cock when I tranfer it onto here at times so forgive me.

This is not my usual horror, just a slide of life effort.

Crits and reviews welcome.

A bad day grew progressively worse. Steve pulled up outside the house, sensing something was wrong when he saw Mrs Clitheroe perched like a blue rinsed vulture at her font gate. Debs came running down the path to meet him, a look of surprised guilt on her face.
 

‘You’re home early,’ she accused.

‘Yep I took a half day.’ He looked around at the objects, exclusively his, that littered the neatly cut front lawn . ‘Er what’s going on?’

She hesitated for a moment, then, like an impressionist segueing characters, whipped the furtive look from her face. She met his gaze once more with the pantomime sorrow of a Sesame Street presenter announcing the death of Big Bird.

‘Steve…I’m sorry to have to do it like this…’

He gazed at her nonplussed.

‘Sometimes people just…well their feelings change.’

Steve noticed the blue van parked by the kerb. It’s back doors yawned open, revealing more familiar objects, again exclusively his.

‘I was hoping to have this all completed before you arrived, I was going to phone and tell you to go straight  to you’re Mums tonight.’

Straight to Mums…’

'We’re taking all your stuff over there now.'

‘We’re?’ He echoed.

In answer a figure strode from the front door. Steve felt a jolt of recognition. He’d often spied him in the background when picking Debs up from her gym classes, hovering like an off duty Adonis.

‘Günter and I never planned for this to happen.’

‘Günter!’ he said incredulously. ‘You’re leaving me for your fitness instructor?’

She bit her lip in embarrassment rather than guilt. ‘No you’re leaving actually. he’s moving in today.’

Steve looked over and saw Günter smirk, blocking the doorway with his six and a half foot frame and striking a pose that suggested no challenge would go unanswered. He was rather like a Nordic brick shit house Steve decided.

‘I wasn’t expecting you back for ages.’

‘The OP contract’s gone tits up and I thought it wasn’t worth hanging around to twiddle my thumbs,’ he muttered weakly in explanation.

‘Your always taking half days lately.’ Debs voice lost the faux regret and grew shrewish. ‘No wonder you‘re careers going down the pan.’

‘Debs, who wanted me to ease back on the work?’ he protested. ‘You were the one saying I was too invested and our relationship was suffering.’

‘Oh so it’s all my fault now.’ She became waspish.

‘But you encouraged me to sign up for the course,’ 

It was true. He’d been working almost twenty-four-seven to bring home enough money, resulting in cold dinners in the microwave and cold shoulders in the bedroom. Debs was a woman who liked equal amounts of attention and luxury and he was finding it increasingly difficult to balance the two.
 

‘I spend all day gazing at these walls, nothing to do and nowhere to go,’ she’d sobbed one evening.

Apart from endless shopping sprees or long lunches and coffee mornings with those bitchy friends from the salon…Steve amended mentally, then scolded himself for his uncaring attitude.

‘You need to re-evaluate you’re priorities,‘ she’d urged, virtually pushing him out to the evening class advertised in the local gazette.

Unleash You’re Inner Child and Attain Enlightenment.

All reality is Maya…an illusion,’  Guru Dave announced sententiously that first night, before going round the circle and asking questions of the group, the probing sort they often asked on Trisha. They were an eclectic bunch, managing directors, apprentice mechanics, university graduates and housewives, all overworked, desperate, and fretting about keeping up with the Joneses and paying the debts off.

Steve told them all about himself, about Debs about their lovely house and the mortgage swaying permanently above his head like a big shiny sword of Damocles . He sheepishly admitted that her refusal to live in a less exclusive area was causing major financial worries.
 

‘Desire is the rocky road to suffering, detachment the path to enlightenment…’ Guru Dave offered. ‘And you might want to cut up the missus credit cards while you‘re at it,’ he’d advised sotto voce, taking Steve aside.

Over the next three months Steve set about learning to meditate and kick back. Often he’d dip into Guru Dave‘s weighty, self written tome, purchased at four pounds ninety-nine, for more enlightened pearls of  wisdom.

What need indeed?

He’d cut up the store cards,  he’d also cancelled the very expensive holiday she’d planned for them in The Gambia. These however were not the priorities Debs felt needed addressing.

‘Sandy Balls in the New Forest’ll do this year,’ he’d soothed. ’It’s been ages since we’ve holidayed in Britain.’

Debs smile had morphed into a kind of fixed mummified grimace, her trips to the gym became more frequent, her skirts shorter. On a few occasions she’d disappeared out for the evening, becoming vague as to her whereabouts when questioned. Yet despite these nocturnal omissions Steve suspected nothing.

And now here was Günter striding down the pathway like a Greek god. His thighs, bursting from obscenely tight shorts, as solid and brown as mahogany. He scooped up a box full of Steve’s old Prodigy Cd’s and marched purposely towards the gate.

Steve stepped forward in outrage. Günter’s shadow fell across him like an avenging colossus.

‘Steve!’ Debs snapped peevishly.

Power struggles are the futile posturing of the weak. True strength lies in learning to let the vicissitudes of life break upon you like a wave. Erode your fears and temper your spiritual core, the inner voice chided.

Steve opened his mouth to say something, paused, then stepped aside.

‘I’m glad you’ve decided to be reasonable about this,’ Debs observed as a smirking Günter made repeated trips to the van with sagging cardboard boxes.

He shrugged, standing impotently in the middle of the lawn and watching as she walked away. She’d always been lovely in his eyes but after all the overtime at the gym, legitimate or otherwise, she was now stunning. Lithe as a faun she sprang up the path and disappeared into the house. Steve felt a slow, painful pull at his heart.

We own nothing and no one. It is a trick of Maya. The enlightened learn to let go when the time is right, the voice with Guru Dave’s Essex drawl spoke in a sombre tone. The child moves on to new life experiences and new acquaintances.
 
Steve gave a resigned sigh and concentrated on attaining inner contentment. The gentle static of a suburban afternoon drifted to his ears, enlivened by the tetchy whine of a distant lawn mower and the arpeggio laughter of kids at play in the nearby park. It was a lovely area but totally beyond his salary. At least now he’d be better off financially.

‘I took the liberty of consulting a solicitor,’ Debs returned dumping a packed suitcase at his feet. ‘I hope you’ll be fair when it comes to contributing towards the household bills.’

‘Contributing…Debs I’m moving out. Sell up or take it on yourself. I can’t afford to pay for two properties.’

‘My solicitors advised me that, as I’m still your wife for the foreseeable future, I have certain rights and you have certain responsibilities.

Steve spluttered. ‘You’re chucking me out, I don’t owe you anything.’ He shot a withering look in the vicinity of Günter and his exquisitely showcased crotch. ‘Attilla the Hung can contribute from now on.’

‘Günter’s still earning his diploma in physical fitness and body sculpting and is short of money. I’ve offered to let him live here rent free.

‘So I’m expected to  provide for you and your fancy piece. Steve wailed bleakly.

‘Stop being so immature…I think you’ll find you may have to honour these commitments, at least until we‘ve divorced.’

The word clanged like a bell in his mind.

‘Here’s a novel idea,’ Steve offered in low hissing tones. ‘What about you getting a full time job and supporting yourself,’

‘You know I have incipient agoraphobia,’ she flared in horror. ‘I can only cope with my part time hours at the nail salon.

Only seems to break out if you’re near the job centre.’

‘You insensitive bastard!’ She sobbed.

Günter looked over, frowning and squaring his shoulders but Debs gave a warning shake of the head.

The guilt she seemed able to ignite in him at will sputtered to life. He sighed. ‘I’m sorry…look calm down, well get something sorted.’

Debs continued to snuffle and sport a martyred expression. ‘I never thought you’d be like this. I was even hoping one day you and Günter could become friends,’ she hurried on, eager to outrace his scorn. ‘No honestly you’d like him, he’s very sensitive and loyal.’
 
A few more neighbours had joined Mrs Clitheroe, hovering like harpies and casting beady eyes on the proceedings. Günter saw them looking and, making a great show of the heat, peeled the t shirt from his magnificent torso.

‘It’s not about sex Debs asserted defensively as he lumbered up the garden, winking at the biddies who clucked like galvanised battery hens. ‘Günter and I understand each other.’

Steve felt the anger rising again, would he ever learn to master inner contentment? he groaned inwardly.

‘This is so bloody unfair!’ He murmured

‘Can’t we at least try and work things out in a civilised fashion?’ Debs voice dropped huskily, and she lowered her eyes, gazing up beneath trembling lashes, a trick she’d learnt from the late Princess Di, now copyrighted as her own. ‘I never meant to hurt you, I still care about you and want you to be happy.’

Numbed and shell shocked Steve capitulated. He wanted to believe her because to not believe meant the past five years had been wasted on a lazy, manipulative, free loading bitch rather than a sensitive, misunderstood waif in need of his protection.

'I suppose while I’m at Mums I wont have much outlay.’

'Half wouldn’t be too difficult,' she urged.

'But only till I get my own place.'

Debs smiled and shrugged vaguely.

'I’m glad we’ve got things sorted,' she handed him the case and took his arm steering him gently out from the garden towards the car. Günter slammed the van doors in a gesture of finality.

Dave deposited his case in the back of the car then pointed to one lone box left on  the kerb. It contained his collection of lead figurines, Roman soldiers, Medieval Archers and Celtic warriors all arranged in heroic poses and lovingly hand painted by himself. They were his pride and joy.

He picked up the box but suddenly Günter was there snatching it away and towering over him menacingly.

Debs whittered up. 'Oh I decided to keep these, Günter’s very interested in military history and took quite a shine to them. He’s a re-enactor. You know The Horde of Odin? They do set pieces all over the country.’

An image came unbidden of Günter ravishing Debs in a horned helmet. He swallowed and banished it from his mind ‘But they’re mine.’

‘I think you’ll find that I bought most of these, on birthdays and Christmas,’ she countered brightly.

‘As gifts for me,’ Steve asserted. ‘It’s about the only thing you ever did buy. They’re mine!’

‘Steve!’ She growled in warning. Far above him Günter’s face curled in a narrow sneer.

‘Zey belong to ze laidee!’ He rumbled like a Teutonic android.

Don’t heed the ego, the Guru Dave voice warned. It seeks to entrap us in power struggles and conflict. Be as a child vulnerable and open, yet retreating from futility rather than embracing it.

Ok! He sighed and turned away.

The ever growing crowd across the road murmured, a dismissive laugh taunted his ears.

‘What a wimp!’ Someone muttered.

He felt shame blanch his cheeks.

Debs beamed widely at the neighbours. ’All very amicable!’ She mouthed across at them.

It occurred to him that she never seemed to have trouble finding her inner child, it had stamped it’s foot and threw tantrums and did just as it pleased on many occasions. It certainly didn’t seem to be the same inner child he had been striving to find for the past three months.

He harked back to his own childhood, remembered tripping Paul Miller up in the one hundred metres because he’d nicked a toffee crisp from his coat pocket, pushing Leon Amery, the school bully, into a bed of nettles. Then there was the time he’d left a big fat toad in Roxanne Clacks desk when she’d called his sister a slag. She’d had to go to the school nurse for her inhaler afterwards such was the impact on her psyche.

After a while nobody tended to give him that much grief at school.

On reflection he’d been quite a horrid little brat.

On reflection weren’t most kids.

Perhaps I’ve been looking for the wrong kind of inner child all along. Steve thought in a moment of shining clarity.

He turned and punched Günter straight in his smirking handsome jaw. He went sprawling, a look of shocked disbelief on his face like a grand duchess who’s just been goosed by a terrier. The box clattered to the floor and Steve bent calmly to pick it up.

Debs gave a cry of alarm and hurried over to Günter, spread eagled, moaning tremulously and clutching at his jaw.

Watching contemplatively for a moment he turned and plucked a straggly piece of bud from one of the bushes crowding the front fence.

‘DEBS WATCH OUT SPIDER!’ He tossed the bud in her direction, she turned just as it’s insectoid  shape plopped against her right boob.

She gave a Richter shattering scream, collapsing in a fluttering, clanking, heap of  micro skirts, crop tops and chunky jewellery.

The gawking crowd opposite roared with laughter.
 

‘How dare you!’ She shrieked turning on him.

‘Very easily actually,’ he answered with enlightened surprise. ‘And if you think I’m putting one penny towards you’re little Germanic love nest you’re very much mistaken…tell that to your solicitor.’

Debs straightened with the slack jawed surprise of someone witnessing The Hulk burst from a fancy birthday cake.

‘Steve,’ she pleaded. ’I don’t understand. ’What’s come over you.’

He walked towards the car, carrying the box and smiling beatifically. ‘My inner child,’ he answered contentedly. ‘And he’s taking his toys home.’