THE ACTION

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Flash Fiction  |  House: The Imaginarium
A flash fiction prompt to write a story in the POV of an inanimate object

Submitted: October 09, 2019

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Submitted: October 09, 2019

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I’m feeling particularly proud today, you see I’ve had a make-over, one which must have cost an absolute fortune. I’m looking fabulous in my new silky outfit, with posh matching accessories; I just wish they’d keep their mangy mutt off me, he’s a nightmare constantly scratching, sniffing and licking. I tell you, they have no respect for anything and I should know, I’ve been with them since they first moved in. I’ve seen some action I can tell you, enough to make your hair curl unless, of course, your hair is already curly, in that case, I suppose the reverse would apply. But anyway, I digress.

 

I have to admit, they are making an effort but I wonder how long it will take before they revert to type. They have a filthy habit of abandoning knickers and socks over the floor, so it won’t be long before the new carpet is once again turned into an Aladdin’s Cave for the mangy mutt, who thinks he’s living the dream. They really are a disgrace.

I’m not one to gossip, but I know by now you must be dying for me to dish the dirt. Well, I’m also not one to disappoint.

It all started when we all moved in together. I remember them trying me out for size in the shop, giggling like smutty school kids. I was well embarrassed, but at least they gave me a home, and that’s when ‘the action’ first began.

There was me, settling in nicely minding my own business, when suddenly they decide to use me as a trampoline, or that’s what it felt like. Gosh, I thought we would all crash through the floorboards into the lounge below, and the noise they made... well, it sounded like a sty full of pigs on Ecstacy. A final, hysterical squeal signalled it was all over... until the next time.

I kind of got resigned to it. It would happen most nights at around the same time though I did notice the grunts and squeals reduced significantly in decibels, and sometimes, when she said she had a headache, I took the opportunity to have an early night myself.

It was peculiar because gradually ‘the action’ grew less frequent, until it stopped altogether. It was then they took up a new habit of reading with their backs turned on one another.

Now, this is the funny thing. Sometimes, while she was cooking dinner, he would take a shower, and afterwards would sit on me to talk to someone on his mobile. It was all hushed whispering, and the conversation always ended with ‘me too’. It wasn’t long after the phone calls began that ‘it’ happened.

Are you sitting comfortably?...

One sunny afternoon, just as I was enjoying the warm sunshine on my covers through the window, he came bursting in with another woman. They were clawing at each other like animals, ripping off their clothes before hurling themselves on me. I remembered ‘the action’ from years ago, but this was something else. She was screaming ‘yes, yes, yes’ at the top of her voice, and he… well, a rampant rabbit had nothing on him. I honestly feared the house foundations might not be strong enough to withhold such ferocious activity.

Just as it reached a crescendo, the door opened and she stood there, hands on hips, eyes blazing her face purple and contorted with rage.

I knew it,” she spat. “You must think I’m stupid, well you under-estimated me. Get that whore out of my house this minute.”

I thought they looked quite pathetic, trying to cover their naked bodies with a sheet as they fumbled to get dressed.

For a time he moved out and it was just me, her and the mutt. I used to hear her sobbing and watched her drink a lot of amber liquid that made her sleepy.

He started phoning her, begging her. Telling her it was all a big mistake, that he loved her and could she please forgive him.

In the end she relented which, I later realised, was because he promised to revamp the house. For quite a while she seemed on edge, would ask him where he had been, would search through his jacket pockets and, when she had the opportunity, would take a sneaky look at his phone on the bedside cabinet, especially when it pinged.

Slowly but surely, her paranoira subsided and subtle displays of affection resumed... she allowed him to kiss her cheek, accepted his compliments with a smile and finally, a pat on the bottom heralded a full on snogging session. Come to think of it, that's when the action started again.

Oh my old springs, they're just not up to it these days!

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© Copyright 2019 Sue Harris. All rights reserved.

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