A Stiff Talking Two

This is my Sunday Photo Fictionsubmission for April 6th. I’ve sat out the last couple of weeks because I couldn’t think of a story that would work as flash. This time, an idea developed fairly quickly though it’s a slightly dark one so I hope it doesn’t offend anyone.

With thanks to Al Forbes for the photo. I’d also acknowledge some inspiration from Amanda Palmer’s peerless Bed Song . To my mind, it’s the best ‘short story masquerading as a pop song’ since Roxy Music’s In Every Dream Home A Heartache. Thanks for reading.

-Y’areet, Bren?
-Aye, Val.
-Who were that chap I saw you with?
-Oh, that were me husband.
-I thought your Geoff were a baldy feller.
-He is…This were me first husband.
-Ah…So why’d he come to see you.
-Still carrying a torch for me, isn’t he?
-He is?
-Yeah. He said that chucking me over for that beautician from Withernsea were the biggest regret of his life.
-Why? Did he find out she couldn’t get him a discount on his highlights?
-Maybe. But I think it were more to do with the fact I’d taken out a massive life insurance policy on meself.
-I see.
-I know. If he’d hung on another fifteen years, he’d’ve had enough to keep him in highlights for years. As it was, it all went to Geoff.
-Who, as we know, doesn’t need highlights.
-I know, Val.
-Did he never think of splashing some of the pay-off on a weave?
-Says he prefers the natural look.
-Does he?
-Says it makes him look virile.
-And was he? Virile, I mean.
-Let’s just say he took me to places I’d never been before.
-What, like Withernsea?
-Every third Wednesday of the month between 2003 and November 2010, it were like I’d died and gone to heaven.
-Oh yeah.
-Must’ve been a bit of a comedown to end up in a graveyard in North Ferriby when you did pass…then?
-Too right…So, Val.
-Yeah, Bren?
-Your Tony’s not been visiting lately.
-I know.
-How come?
-I think he’s got hisself a new woman.
-Oh, you poor love.
-Don’t worry about it. I said I wanted him to be happy when I went.
-But you didn’t mean it?
-‘Coursw I didn’t. I’m going to start taking haunting lessons next week.
-You go, girl.
-I was thinking maybe I’d start by moving a few of his things around. Then start wailing on the landing.
-Just wailing, Val?
-Maybe a bit of moaning, too.
-That’s the spirit.
– No pun intended, eh Bren?
-Well, there’s no use phoning a haunting in.
-So…your ex?
-Did he bring you flowers?
-Bugger knows I was allergic to ’em.
-Well, you don’t need to worry about allergies now you’re here, do you?
-I wouldn’t count in it.
-How come?
-You tried buying Benadryl in Purgatory?
-Fair enough, Bren, fair enough. Listen, I’ve heard we might be getting a new neighbour.
-Oh? where?
-Plot 36.
-Swanky…Who’s getting it?
-Barrister from Swanland, apparently. Emphysema.
-You sound disappointed, Bren.
-Well, if she’s a barrister, she’ll have airs, won’t she. Remember that solicitor from Kirkella?
-What about her?
-That headstone.
-What headstone?
-“A lady passed this way and a gentleman followed.”?
-What’s wrong with that?
-Well it were crass, weren’t it?
-Well, she were killed by the Springbank Stalker wasn’t she?
-Oh, right. Well this one mightn’t be so bad.
-She will, Val, she will. She’ll want a bloody tree instead of a headstone, or something.
-Give her a chance. You don’t have to mix with her if you don’t like her.
-What do I do, then?
-Just ignore her?
-How’m I going to do that? I can hardly play dead, now, can I?




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7 responses to “A Stiff Talking Two

  1. Oh I was chuckling all the way through, that dialogue was fab 🙂

  2. Al

    That was completely awesome 😀

  3. OMG!!! I’m dying!!!! Loved it~~

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