I Thought My Wife Wasn’t Going To Be Back For Another Hour At Least by Camillus John

 

I thought my wife wasn’t going to be back
for another hour at least so I nipped out to the
chipper around the corner and bought
a quarter pounder with cheese and chips.
 
I was starving. I hadn’t eaten anything all day
except two small pears at eight o’clock.
It had been raining smoked cods outside
for the past three hours.
And getting heavier by the minute.
Raindrops the size of chicken nuggets.
 
I put on my mustard anorak
and scooted around the corner to the shops.
I grabbed a carton of milk in the newsagents first,
because we’d run out,
then popped next door and purchased
my quarter pounder with cheese
and chips in Dario’s. Nice man.
I was soaked through when I got home.
 
Eventually, I had everything plated up on the table
beside a steaming cup of tea
and was ready to tuck in with gusto,
burger already lifted to my face,
when,
the front door opened
and in walked my wife.

She’d caught me red handed
at the kitchen table,
dribbling mayonnaise, mustard and onions
all down my chin
and onto the table
and onto the floor.

©2020 Camillus John

 

Follow Camillus John

 

Camillus John was bored and braised in Dublin and has had fiction published in The Stinging Fly, RTÉ Ten and Headstuff.org. Recently he killed the Prime Minister of Ireland in fiction in the Welch literary magazine, The Lonely Crowd, with a piece entitled, The Assassination of Enda Kenny (After Hilary Mantel). He’d also like to mention that St Pats won the FAI cup in 2014 for the first time in 53 years of not winning it.

 

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