Monday, 24 October 2011

#1: Tim & Sandra Figgess

Mothwicke is a great place to work and to live! There can’t be many places anywhere that would accept me what with my wolf hand. And not only accept me, embrace me! And elect me to the Council. Yes, it’s Councillor Tim Figgess if you don’t mind. This is my wife Sandra. You’ll have to forgive her. She not herself right now. Not since well, everything with her sister.

We met at work, naturally enough. Like people do. We work at Giggle Mouse Castle, like everyone does. Everyone in this town owes so much to that crazy mouse! Did you know Giggle Mouse Castle is the world’s largest theme park that happens to be sinking?
We’ve had a good marriage, Sandra and I. I mean sex isn’t everything. And the kids we’d hoped for never happened. Maybe that’s for the best. Who wants a dad with a wolf hand? But it’s been good. Companionship. Underrated I’d say. Sex isn’t everything.

I mean naturally, Sandra isn’t really in the mood for that kind of thing at the moment. Who would be with your sister disappeared? Right now, at this moment, no one knows what happened to Rachel. And that can take its toll on someone. So of course the last thing Sandra wants is me pawing her like some lust filled animal!

But as so often happens, something quite…well, profound I suppose… comes out of the tragedy. I suppose I’m not the only man who has found his wife less and less attractive over the years. There’s something so sad about watching the woman you love wither like hoary grapes. Sad and disgusting. Even before, you know, we were having difficulties because, well, because things just weren’t as tight and as firm as they used to be shall we say. I don’t blame her exactly; I mean I know it’s not her fault. The last time we tried, you know, we did it in front of the big mirror in the bedroom. I remember when we used to do that years ago, before it all turned to porridge. Well I’m going through the motions frankly. Out of politeness. I mean this woman makes me a sandwich to take to work every morning, it’s the least I can do isn’t it? Anyway, there I am, struggling to “be a man” if you will, just flapping in the breeze, and all of a sudden I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Suddenly there’s a spark. Just for an instant, I see the way the light from the bedroom lamp hits me and I’m all sharp lines and dense sensuous shadow. No longer a lingering spent sack of regret, a ghost at the sexual feast. I file it away for later and crack on. Grit my teeth and get through it. Later when she’s asleep, I try it all again, only solo. It’s like a switch flips in my head. I spend hours diligently exploring myself in ways that would make a Cardinal blush.  Afterwards I feel complete. Complete, refreshed and clean. Clean in a way I though I’d never feel again. It’s just so important to take some time out to be good to yourself. What? No she can’t hear us. She’s on a lot of medication.

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