Open Writing

To some people a ‘.’ is a thing of nothing, but to mathematicians it is a ‘point,’ to web surfers it is the ‘dot,’ and to the literate it is a fully functional tool. It enjoys a variety of names, from the English ‘Full stop,’ American’ Period,’ to the Telegrammic ‘Stop,’ and all stations in between, including ‘cease,’ ‘cessation,’ ‘close,’ ‘closing,’ ‘closure,’ ‘completion,’ ‘conclusion,’ ‘consummation,’ ‘end,’ ‘ending,’ ‘end of the line,’ ‘finish,’ ‘stopping point,’ ‘termination,’ ‘terminus,’ ‘wind-up,’ and ‘wrap-up.’ This information is provided so that when you come across a ‘.’ you will be able to determine what it means from the context and enjoy the tale.

".," shouted red-in-the-face Maisie as her husband Herbert was about to run over the cat. He hadn’t seen the cat, but he didn’t care for the animal, anyway. It was dark, he had downed a few beers, and it had gone . time, and he wanted to get home as fast as he could. That’s why he hadn’t slowed down even when he drove past the bus . at a wicked pace. The bus hadn’t been more than half way out and it managed to . in time, sending the conductor sprawling up against the driver’s compartment that provided him with a convenient . that prevented him going through the windshield. It could have been nasty!

Then just as they rounded the corner into their street, "that manky cat" had run out of number ten’s garden and into the road. Maisie saw it first and demanded that Herbert bring the car to a .. "It’s a pity I missed it," mumbled Herbert just under his breath. Herbert had been reduced to muttering things over the past few years as Maisie had slowly but surely risen to the top of the dominance league in their household. Sub voce susurration was the safest way to communicate with his wife, and he had become adept at making it sound as if he was drawing breath in through his soup-strainer moustache instead of uttering deprecatory oaths against his once sweet bride. He kept his moustache and let it grow straggly because Maisie didn’t like it. It was his only open act of defiance.

The strains of a constipated tenor rendering a sanitised version of "Love, could I only tell thee…" floated out from the car radio, underlining Herbert’s powerlessness to speak his mind as an equal with his better half, or even make a simple contribution as an acknowledged inferior. He would, he told himself, "like to . her utterances!" But he was forced to admit that the likelihood of Maisie reaching a . of her own volition was as likely as feathers on a pig. She did not . when she fell asleep but continued to fill the air with a mixture of instruction and explanation, all of which was as welcome in her husband’s ears as the carbuncle he had on his neck the year that Chelsea won The Cup.

He hummed: the tune audible, the words reserved for his smiling mind; "Love could I only . thee, And fill thy mouth with glue!" He almost laughed aloud at the cleverness of his impromptu composition, but he restrained himself. Maisie did not understand laughter, and did not, therefore, welcome it in others. He pulled the car into their driveway and announced in mock gravity, ".!" "We should have stopped in for some fish and chips," announced Maisie ignoring her husband’s attempt at good humour.

Once in the house, Maisie launched a tirade about cats, Herbert, and late braking, without taking a perceptible breath for four minutes. "That must be a record," thought the long-suffering chap, almost tasting fish and chips. "Shall I run round and get some, dearest?" said Herbert. Maisie eyed him with suspicion. He was not usually this chirpy after a night out with her. "No." she offered, ". where you are and I’ll warm up some scrambled eggs." She went into the kitchen . the door behind her.

When the warm-up was ., she reappeared with a dish and two forks, placing them on the table as she motioned her man to sit and eat. Maisie could be expressive in silence when she gesticulated. Herbert’s response was tacitly to imagine that he was a judge handing down a sentence: "After considering your case, I am forced to the . that you herewith, forthwith, and forevermore shall ., ., ., and effect a complete and permanent . of browbeating, henpecking, and demeaning your hero-husband. Do you have anything to say in mitigation?"

As soon as he had thought to invite her to speak in mitigation, he knew he had made an error in judgement. Yet, the invitation had been handed down from the bench and could not be retracted without the possibility of accusations of injustice, and perhaps even a motion of mistrial. He sighed, causing Maisie to look up. As if on cue, she announced: "I’m going to visit my sister." "Why?" asked the judge. "Because it’s time I did!" retorted the accused. "Will you . for long?" asked the prosecutor. "It depends," said the condemned.

Herbert’s eyes glazed over as he saw her chained in the dock surrounded by burly guards, and announced with just the hint of a smile, "You have earned the disfavour of this court by your unwillingness to forge a . to your treatment of your spouse. He is hereby placed under the protection of this court and your privileges as his wife are now subject to a writ of .."

Coming to himself, Herbert looked at Maisie. He had not seen her face like that before. It looked pained, tears rolled down her powdered cheeks, and her painted lips quivered like aspen leaves in a high wind. Tremulously she spoke: "What did you say?" He was nonplussed. "Me? Say?" he stammered. "Nothing, Maisie. I said nothing." But he had. When he had addressed the condemned felon he had forgotten to speak tacitly, and had spoken aloud the voice he had assumed was that of a magistrate.

It was an epiphany for Maisie, who had not imagined that she was doing anything to make her marriage unhappy, or squash her husband, but through his outburst she had got the .. That episode signalled the . of Herbert’s unhappiness. Maisie resolved right on the . to mend her ways. She did not go and see her sister, ., but stayed at home to work as hard as she could for the . of the vows she had made years earlier, and had forgotten, but which she now realised were the . of the whole matter.

Herbert’s life was changed. He . to mutter, thought kindly of his wife, bought fish for the cat at number ten, shaved off his moustache, and brought to a successful . what had been a very unhappy . in both their lives, and they lived in the same . happily ever after.

Copyright © Ronnie Bray
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

Other stories at:
http://www.2theheart.com/author_ronnie_bray
http://www.meridianmagazine.com/voices/011024summer.html