Ask not for whom the bell tolls ; it tolls for Cathy Barry.
“I left the oven on!” she screamed as she sank beneath the waves for the last time.
She clawed at his back in rage, expecting to draw a little blood at most but instead yanking out a large chunk of rotting flesh. As he span to look at her and retaliate, his right leg came free at the hip joint and he fell, his head making a muffled thump on the floor and rolling away as blood seeped lazily from his neck out onto the shit-smeared linoleum.
There was a huge, stinking brown smear all along the gusset of her knickers. For a moment, she simply could not explain it, before she suddenly recalled that she had been for a huge dump twenty minutes ago, quietly doing the saxophone bit from The Heat Is On and dancing as much as the cubicle allowed, and got so into the song that she had forgotten to wipe her arse.
As he withdrew his gargantuan pole and went to the bathroom to clean up, she lay still for a moment, wondering whether her organs would re-settle themselves into place voluntarily and how long it’d take.
He turned his eyes away from the film just enough to see her glancing at him at the same moment. They both grinned as they realised that this thing was happening, turned to face one another and moved in for a kiss, but, with dreadful inevitability, the side of his face nearest her suddenly collapsed in a frightful attack of Bell’s Palsy, leaving him not only in poor shape for a kiss but also struggling to stop popcorn and Tizer falling and dribbling from his mouth and down onto her white Kappa tracksuit top as she screamed and withdrew in disgust.
“I honestly had no idea he was shagging Soph. Honestly, no idea at all. Oh my God! Oh my God. That is the biggest scandal,” said Kayleigh, giggling and sipping her cider. “Can’t get over that. Wow. I wonder if Steph knew.”
“No, she didn’t!” exclaimed Claire. “That’s the thing, she literally had no idea. Well, that’s what Nicole told me. I ain’t actually spoken to Steph. Don’t know if I can now either,” she said, laughing but still in shock. Mandy laughed too. This was all going to take time to process. Meanwhile, Trev was still not back from the shops and they were on their last cider. Were they actually going out or what? If not, she was going to get some more delivered. Then she heard the car door slam – he always slammed it – and then the front door too. Quicker than was necessary, Trev bounded up the stairs, broke the door off instead of opening it, stood there grinning for a moment, panting, then stepped backward onto the landing. “What you doing?” said Claire, amused but bemused. He sounded like he was counting to himself as his panting subsided. Then he suddenly ran forward and hurled himself at the far wall, all the landmines strapped to it triggering at the same time, blowing his entire body into tiny pieces, showering the whole room, the two girls, much of the landing, the painting over the staircase and the cat with his gore, small shards of bone and, yea, the remnants of the eight cans of K and the canvas shopping bag he’d paid an extra quid for to save the environment and hopefully leave behind a better world for the people of tomorrow.