That Deadly Siren

A recently widowed young bride is making her goodbyes to her husband. Thanks to James A. for suggesting a better title.

“Are you done crying, Dear?” asks Theresa in a soft voice.

Angela is sitting on the sofa. Her mother, Theresa, ex-cop, is by her side, holding her hands. The twenty-year-old young woman has been crying her eyes out all morning. She’s quiet now. She raises her head and dabs at her red-rimmed eyes with a white lacy handkerchief.

“No, I’m resting,” she whispers. 

Angela had only been married a month when the Grim Reaper (Grimmy, to his friends) claimed her 80-year-old husband’s soul, two days ago. There he lies, , dead to the world, supine on the threadbare Persian carpet he bought last year from Tunisia. Members of the family and a few friends are scattered about the living room, whispering, sipping wine and snickering behind their hands.

 

Angela heaves a sigh. As if on queue, the door bell goes “DING! DING!” (the “DONG” stopped working since the poor man died.) The maid opens the door and ushers two men in. One is fat and sports a ridiculously small moustache, just a smudge under his nose; and the other is thin, with droopy eyelids and a fixed smile. They’re the undertakers, come to take George.

As they’re struggling with the stiff corpse of the deceased, endeavouring to put him in the carved mahogany coffin, the freshly widowed lady launches into a new fit of sobbing. Mother Theresa (what? Should I call her Father Theresa, instead?) puts her arm around her daughter’s shoulders, “There, there!” 

George’s wig slips off his bald pate and his brother (half brother, actually, as his father had married a Vietnamese girl who.. but that’s another story) delicately places it on the man’s chest. Angela is horrified and jumps up, declaring that her husband has never left the house bare headed. She rushes to the bedroom to fetch George's denture adhesive. She knows he always kept it near the Viagra box. 

“Just a tiny drop”, she says over her shoulder, “and the problem is fixed”. 

When she comes back, however, the wig is in place and the men are marching towards the door. One of them, the fat one, I think, tells her: “That’s alright, Madam, we found a thumb tack on the table.” 

She stares at them, pop-eyed in mute dismay.

 

The undertakers march out followed by Angela and her mother. The bereaved young lady’s face is hidden behind a black veil. She holds on to her mother’s arm as if afraid she might collapse. Everyone else files out and gets into their cars. Mother Theresa opens the black Mercedes door and pushes her daughter's head down. "Watch the head, Dear!" She, then, goes round and gets in next to her. The hearse pulls out at a slow pace and the procession follows.

 

Mother Theresa takes her daughter’s hand. “Tell me, darling,” asks mother Theresa, “what happened? I thought he had a good constitution.”

“It was his heart, mother. But he was such a wonderful man. He was considerate, affectionate, caring, soft-hearted, which is probably what killed him.” She sighs audibly. 

“Sunday was his favourite day as we used to make love to the sound of the church bell.” Her eyes tear up again. 

“He would still be alive if that damn fire engine hadn’t gone past.”

Reviews

[LastMonth]

You should be telling stories all day, every day.
You're so god damn good at it.

I kinda wish you messed up once so I would have something else to write here,
But every review is pretty much the same.

Hahaha.
Good Twist.
Well written.
Snarky comments fit well.

Well, here's another boring review for another excelllent story woods.

[Woody]

absolutely not boring at all, my friend. on the contrary, mucho flattering. thanks a ton (?). see, I'm running out of novel thanks. very kind of you and I'm bloody happy you think so highly of my writes. but I assure you there is a handful of which I'm not proud. I don't want to remove them. I believe I have improved with time and thanks to good, consciencious reviewers.

[Loulou4u]

Hi Woody,

This is a terrific example of a flash fiction story and it's laced with humor as well. How can I not like it. The missing 'dong' was truly inspired, lol. I thoroughly enjoyed reading this fun romp.

Hugs,
Lou

[Woody]

hello Loulou,
thank you ever so much for your visit. I'm super glad this made you laugh.
I enjoy writing these weird flash fictions and always hope that the readers will enjoy them too.

[MsJewel]

Woody - you have a stellar sense of humor - and your storytelling is amazing. I felt like I was there - watching this bizarre scene unfold - a thumbtack for his hair...seriously???? LOL...
and the perfect ending!

Whenever I need a smile, I know I'll find it on your page!
:) Julie

[Woody]

Thanks heaps Julie :) and you made my day by enjoing this nutty story.
why not a thumbtack? it worked didn't it? and he didn't complain.

[Beccy]

Loved this Woody, and the description of those undertakers instantly put me in mind of Laurel and Hardy.

Trust you had a lovely Christmas. Beccy.

[Woody]

those are exactly the ones I was describing :) ta luv. overjoyed that you liked this.
Christmas was fine, thanks. I hope you had a great one yourself.

[Matching Socks]

Sick wit! OMG, I nearly spewed my coffee at DONG!

[Woody]

hahaha you're the first to remark on that. I'm glad. was beginning to think it was not funny.
thank you Ana Ance Sophia

[Matching Socks]

Are you kidding me? I nearly choked on my coffee!
Maybe no one else is as DONG obsessed as I am.

[Woody]

hahahahaha you're killing me!!!!

[Vidya Bacchus]

Haha you funny Woody you.This has given me a hearty laugh this morning my dear friend,Most excellent pen for sure :)

[Woody]

now look what you're doing! laughing at the misfortune of others. tsk tsk!
thanks loads Dear :)

[Vidya Bacchus]

Lol yes I should be more contrite but you mister started it :)

[Frieda P]

Ouch...ha who knew you were such a sicko? Dark humor, love how you describe the undertakers, wormy characters it seems. A good chuckle this morning, who makes fun of dead people? ;) haha

[Woody]

Glad you like it Frieda. now, I don't want you to have the wrong idea about me. those who've read a few of my stories would, I hope, know that I'm not the type to make fun of people. however, I try to look at the funny side of people's misfortunes. yes I will not hesitate to joke about the dead (they wouldn't mind would they), the elderly, the black, gay, whatever.
I fervently hope I don't shock people. hey, life's bloody short, right?

[Frieda P]

Gotta find the funny side to life, or we'd all be hanging off cliffs, let's face it, life is pretty absurd most times....and bloody short, yes.

[Woody]

*sigh* such gloomy thoughts, Frieda! laugh and be merry is my motto.

[Samuel Dickens]

Oh, Woody, Woody, Woody. Such irreverence! (I love it) Sigh.....the beauty of May-December weddings.

[Woody]

hey, Sam. I'd never heard of May-December weddings so I had to look it up (thanks). indeed they can be ludicrous and farcical at times. but eye of the beholder and all that.

[M.E.Lyle]

Sir, you never cease to crack me up, and the cracks are getting wider too. Soon I may fall through one of them. I thought it might be even more hilarious if the mustached undertaker was really a girl with a thick upper lip hair problem.
Again, GREAT JOB.

[Woody]

thanks a million, Sir. now we should do something about those cracks.
it never crossed my mind to turn the undertaker into a woman for this reason: you're about my age, don't they remind you of Laurel and Hardy? I'd be surprised if you didn't know them.

[M.E.Lyle]

Ah yes, everybody knows( of our age ) knows Laurel and Hardy, along with Abbott and Costello's "Whose on First," shtick.

[Latifa]

witty and humorous, I like the flow of it

[Woody]

thanks a lot Latife. so glad you like it :)

[Tom]

Ah well, he died happy !

Another 'cracker' Woody !

[Woody]

haha he certainly did. this would've been a better title "Sex kills. Die happy!"
thank you Tom.