AnniversaryA Story by Woody a shocking discovery... revelations. “Come on, Mildred!”
shouted George irritably from the living room, “for God’s sake, I’ve been
waiting for the best part of an hour!” “Comiiiing!” shouted
Mildred back from the bedroom. He was sitting on the
sofa, facing the TV. George was short, on the
dark side, eightyish, froglike with a wisp of snow white hair and sad drooping
eyes, behind black-rimmed glasses. He hated waiting for his wife. Don’t we all?
Today, he was taking his wife to a restaurant to celebrate their fiftieth wedding
anniversary. He picked up the remote
and started flipping through the channels. ISIS killed 21 Christians in Libya.
Boko Haram kidnapped 43 little girls in Nigeria. Car bomb in Irak. France,
Australia, Denmark. “God Almighty!” muttered George, “what’s the world coming
to?” He flicked the TV off and was about to call again when Mildred swept down thw staircase. His breath caught in his throat. “Oh,Milly, you’re
stunning,” he breathed. “Oh, come off it, old
man!” said Mildred coyly and spun around in her red dress. The Woman in Red! In
spite of the wrinkles, the white hair at the temples and the slightly stooped
stance, Mildred still retained a lot of her beauty. Her twinkling blue eyes, her
upturned nose, her radiant smile and high cheek bones would snag the attention
of any man, though she’s well past her seventieth birthday. “You’re good enough to
eat,” stated George, “I’ve a mind to take you straight to the bedroom and
forego the meal.” “Not on your nelly, old
timer!” snapped Mildred in a mock-stern tone, “been looking forward to this
meal for the past coupla weeks. Besides,” she added with a smile, “I’m not
quite sure of the outcome, at your age.” George pretended to be
hurt. “Have I ever let you
down?” “Only a dozen times in
the past six months.” “That’s unfair…” “Only kidding, honey. You’re the best. Now, let me take a look at you. Oh God, look at this tie, George! drooping like your shrivelled.. uhm." "Milly, you can be wicked and mean, at times!" "George! You're not cross, are you? You know I like to tease you. And you know perfectly well that I love your Jade plant," said Mildred with a smile. "Oh! I thought you meant.." "Don't be silly! Now, let me fix this. There! Now you look as dashing as the day you asked me to
marry you and fainted when I said yes.” When they left the
house, Mildred threaded her arm through George’s and they set off on foot
towards the “Silver Platter,” one of the trendiest restaurants in town. The sun was shining
brightly though there was a nip in the air. People of all ages were in the
street. Many out on their lunch break. Some children with schoolbags on their
backs going home (the children, not the schoolbags, naturally), chatting and
laughing. A street artist with a ponytail and a moustache very much like that
of Dali. Overkill. He offered to do their portrait but they declined politely. They walked past a
shwarma stand, saw customers waiting eagerly as the man behind the makeshift
counter shaved juicy slices from a spinning, fat-topped cone of spiced lamb.
The aroma of the meat wafted their way and George felt his mouth water. George and Mildred
arrived at the “Silver Platter”. The door was wide open, leading to the dim
dining area, backed by a curtain of wooden beads. Parting the beads, they
walked in. they were greeted by a smiling youth in a black tailcoat and bowtie. “Welcome to the Silver
Platter, Madam. Sir.” “Thank you,” said
Mildred with a smile. “Have you booked, Sir?” “Yes. Name’s George
Armani. And, no, no relation to George Bush.” Not getting the joke or
possibly finding it lame, the waiter checked his list and replied: “Ah yes. Mr Armani.
Please come this way.” George took his wife’s
elbow and followed the waiter. Once seated, they ordered their drinks. Champagne,
of course. While waiting, George
took his wife’s hands across the table and looked her in the eye. “God, I love you to
bits, Milly.” “I know, honey and I
love you, too. I hope I won't jinx us but how is it possible that a love can last so long?” “AAH but you forget what
my job was before I retired.” “Archeologist? What’s that
got to do with the price of fish?” The waiter came back
with their drinks and George waited for him to depart before answering: “Honey, an archeologist is
the best man a woman can wish to marry. The older his wife gets, the more he’s
interested in her.” “Very funny, silly boy,”
said Mildred, chuckling. “can’t you be serious for five minutes?” “Can’t help it, darling.
That’s the way my maker has made me.” “Huh! God has nothing to
do with it,” scoffed Mildred. “God? No, I meant,
Woody.” “Woody? Who the hell is
that?” “My, OUR maker.” “What are you talking
about, silly man?” asked Mildred with a raised eyebrow. “Sweetie, I’ve been
meaning to tell you this for days. I’ve only put it together recently.” Mildred looked at him
unblinkingly: “George, you’re freaking me out. Is this another of your silly
jokes?” “No, Mil, I promise. Do you
think we’re real people?” “What kind of a question
is this? Of course we are real people.” “No, we’re not. Sorry.” “Ready to order, folks?”
asked the waiter by their side. “Jesus, Christ!” exclaimed
Mildred, nearly jumping out of her skin. “Don’t you come sneaking up on me like
that young man!” “I’m so sorry, Madam,”
replied the young man, contrite. “Give us a minute, please,”
said George. He turned to his wife
and said: “I’m sorry if I’ve upset you, honey.” “Upset? I’m shocked. My husband
has taking leave of his senses.” “Honey, I’m not mad,
believe me! We are characters in a story. Woody created us. That’s what he does
when he's not... frolicking or whatever he does.” “Jesus! Or I should say ‘Woody’,
from now on.” “Listen, this shouldn’t
spoil our anniversary. At least I hope Woody wouldn’t get a stupid idea and end
the story with one of his sick twists.” “let’s order!” “Yeah, let’s eat. I’ll
explain later how I found out. I’ll tell you about this site I stumbled upon on
the net. Writerscafe.”
The waiter had brought
their meals and George dived in immediately. Mildred sat watching him eat while
musing on what she’d learned. The young waiter noticed she wasn’t eating and
came to enquire if there was a problem. “Something wrong with
your food, Madam?” “ "Woody?" asked the waiter, puzzled. "Who’s Woody?" "Your creator. For Woody’s sake! Did you think you were a real person?" © 2016 WoodyAuthor's Note
Featured Review
Reviews
|
Stats
1667 Views
35 Reviews  Last Updated on February 4, 2016 Tags: wedding anniversary, meal, restaurant. Author
WoodyMateur, Bizerte, TunisiaAboutok, time for an update I think. my old friends have come to know me pretty well, I trust so this is for the new comers. I'm a Tunisian 60-year-old teacher-cum-translator, book worm who enjoys writing.. more..Writing
|
![[send message]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/mail.png){kind=small}
![[befriend]](https://www.writerscafe.org/images/friend.png){kind=small}
first
prev
Share This
Email
Facebook
Twitter
Read Request
My Library
Flag Writing