Author:
Christopher Antony Meade (Laughing a lot)
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Date Posted: 03:56:24 09/05/14 Fri
Something’s burning and it’s not the toast this time. Breakfast time was always accompanied with the smell of burning bread since I bought that cheap toaster. The bread usually looked like it had come from darkest Africa, so black was it and my wife was never done complaining about the burnt scrapings clogging up the sink.
“Why don’t you buy a decent toaster you mean old drunk” was her constant refrain. I didn’t care. The money I had saved, by buying utensils from the bargain shops, bought me many a bottle of Jack Daniels. Why would I care about a few lousy crumbs in the sink? I never cleaned it anyway. That was woman’s work. My idea of contributing to the household economy was to spend as much as I could on booze. Where the money came from didn’t bother me too much either. If my small private pension wasn’t enough to keep me permanently sozzled, then I could always help myself to the electricity money. For some reason, best known to herself, the missus always kept the money for the electric, gas etc in a tin beneath the sink. Not the brightest of things to do when living with an alcoholic. She didn’t stop doing it, even though she must have known that it frequently ended up in the off-licence till, rather than with the utility companies. In my moments of sobriety, I considered that she thought it worthwhile to sacrifice the money, rather than put up with the hassle of dealing with an aggressive drunk with no drink. It certainly suited me, whatever the reason.
But something is burning and it’s very painful. There’s a small blue flame coming from my left leg. Oh God! It’s spreading. It’s in both legs now and I can’t put it out. I can feel like there is a raging furnace in my stomach and the flames are starting to burst out from between my agonising ribs. I’m screaming now, but not for long I’m guessing. The flames are rushing up my throat and out my mouth and nose. My eyes are starting to melt from the inside out and my ears are about to explode. I can see my wife through my liquefying orbs and she’s smiling and saying something. What is she saying? I feel that my skull is about to explode and my boiling brain will be just steam and burning fat in about twenty seconds. I can just about hear her words penetrating my melting eardrums.
“I knew, if you kept drinking, that spontaneous combustion would get your useless carcase in the end. It was worth it to leave that money under the sink. This is your taster for Hell.”
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“The Zombie, the Cat, and Barack Obama” Critically acclaimed and available from all Amazon sites.
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