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Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Comedy · #1029865
Featured in Comedy Newsletter!
Surprise!
by
E.E. Coder




“Yes indeed, she will definitly like this!” I chuckled to myself. “It may well surprise her enough to miss her little group tonight too! Tonight, things might just be a whole lot better.” I smiled into the mirror while I shaved. “Marion is right, sometimes I do get carried away!”

She said so again just last night, “Steve, you do get carried away sometimes, I think sleeping on the couch might give you some time to think about it.” Oh, she said other things too, many other things, but you know, women say things they don’t really mean in the heat of an argument. I had learned that it was best to leave her be when she got in these kind of moods, especially since she completed her self defense classes.

Marion and I had some small disagreements about her monthly women’s group meetings and the topics of discussion that went on in said groups. Last night had been a real doozy too. She told me that since Pursuit of Happiness Week was coming up this month, she had decided that in her own pursuit of happiness, she was taking a trip to Memphis with some friends to visit Graceland. I of course, wasn’t too happy with that idea.

I began to question her pretty extensively about just who the heck the friends were and ending up with me saying some things that would no doubt cause me to be celibate for the next month, (probably more). I had to fix it somehow! I spent the greater part of the night contemplating my words and actions, having plenty of time to do so, since it was nearly impossible to sleep on that horror of a couch anyway. I planned well into the morning hours just what it was I might do to make it up to her.

This morning she quietly left for work without waking me, she is so considerate. I would have been late getting to my own job, had I planned on going. It didn’t matter, I had supplies to purchase right after I perused the Internet to find just exactly the right idea that would put a smile back on her face and me back into the bedroom.

Working the kink out of my neck in the shower took me some time. That darn arm rest sure made a miserable pillow. I thought, rubbing my still stiff neck. I still can’t turn to the right!

Barely able to move my neck, I looked down at my pyjamas and towels lying in a puddle on the bathroom floor. I knew Marion wouldn’t want me straining myself, so I left them for her to deal with. “Sheesh, sometimes life is tough for us men.” I muttered. “I want tonight to be special and being crippled might slow things down.” I grimaced as I tried to turn my head to check my profile. Boy, that stiff neck was not going to go away easily

Don’t get me wrong, it isn’t that Marion and I do a lot of arguing really. It just seemed that ever since she had joined that women’s group I was getting little surprises all of the time, (at least once a month, after her meeting night). She would come home and inform me that I wasn’t supporting her in her quest to be a better woman. That always filled me with wonder, because I had always considered her to be one of the most perfect women in the world. I just couldn’t see that there was all that much room for her to improve.

Marion didn’t work because she had to do so; in fact, the job she had didn’t pay anything at all, she was a volunteer at the Women’s Shelter. A noble calling in my view, helping those abused women. She did of course, do a lot less around the house these days. Why sometimes she wouldn’t get my dinner on the table until almost 7 PM and I noticed that the front lawn hadn’t been mowed for over a week.

The house was still more or less clean, but I did also notice that she didn’t do last night’s dishes right after supper like she used to do. Yesterday, I had to look for my own underwear and my suit wasn’t layed out with a complimenting tie like she used to do either, it took me almost ten minutes to find my clothes before I could get ready for work. Usually this kind of thing happens for a few days after her meetings. She soon returns to her duties, though lately it has been taking a few more days longer than usual, but I know sooner or later she will return to her old self.

After getting my bathroom duties finished I padded down the hall towards our home office. I didn’t bother dressing yet, being barefoot, the carpeting helped to dry my feet off.

I decided to stop at the bedroom before going on the Internet, I wanted to try on the costume I had in mind to surprise Marion and help get her in the mood. I hid it in the back of the closet last month. I had intended to wear it at the Summerfield’s Halloween costume party, but unfortunately we weren’t able to attend because I had stopped after work that night with the guys from work to shoot a little pool. Somehow, the time got away from me. Marion said she understood and wasn’t mad at me. She just figured since I was late from work and probably pretty tired, that I would prefer to sleep on the couch and not have to climb the stairs. Not fixing me breakfast the next day hadn’t been out of anger either, she assured me. She just figured I might be joining the guys for a follow up breakfast and she really didn’t intend to slam the door hard enough for it to break and wake me up either, it somehow caught a gust of wind was all.

I managed to dig the costume out of the back of the closet, but it involved pulling out almost everything in there, piling it up on the bed. I knew Marion would really rather put that stuff back, to keep the color coordinated things together, so I didn’t bother. I am usually considerate that way, I never did understand why we had these little disagreements. The costume was a little tight, I had put on a few more pounds than I had thought, but I did manage to get it on. Putting on the accompanying wig I looked myself over in the full length mirror and was pretty amazed at the transformation.

used to illustrate Surprise!


Since the costume was a little snug, I decided to leave it on in the hopes it would stretch some, while I got busy looking up what I need from the Internet. I went on down the hall to the office and started the computer, leaving it to start and to login, figuring I might as well get myself a cup of coffee and maybe a bite to eat I padded downstairs to the kitchen.

I guess Marion must have drank all of the coffee this morning, but I did manage to find some instant to zap in the microwave. Rummaging around in the cupboards I found some tasty cookies to go with it. I left the stuff sitting out on the counter because I knew Marion would rather I leave it since she knew just right where it went back. I didn’t spill much of the coffee on the way back to the office either since burning my hand on the first cup and dropping it. I would have cleaned up the spill and the glass, but since I didn’t know where the cleaning stuff was I didn’t. Marion usually did a better job at that sort of thing anyway.

Back in the office, I happily surfed a bit of the Internet looking for just the right kind of thing. I didn’t even hardly stop at all at the pop-ups that were generated by my surfing either, oh I maybe glanced at the pictures and things, you know how men sort of glance at the pictures in Playboy and magazines like that, when all we are really doing is reading the articles about sports and politics. After a few hours, I found just what I thought might be the perfect thing, it went well with my costume too! I knew Marion would be especially pleased when she realized all of the effort I put into this surprise. There it was, just about the most perfect thing for the circumstances I found myself in.

Elvis Presley's Grilled Peanut Butter
and Banana Sandwich


2 slices of wonder bread
2 tablespoons of smooth peanut butter
1 small ripe banana mashed
2 tablespoons butter

Spread the peanut butter on one slice of bread and the mashed banana on the other. Press the slices gently together. Melt the butter (or to be truly Elvis-like, melt bacon fat!), over low heat in a small frying pan. Place the sandwich in the pan and fry until golden brown on both sides. Eat it with a glass of buttermilk.



“Perfect, just perfect!” I smiled to myself. “Since Marion is such a fan of Elvis, this will show her how much I care!”

Add to that all of the trouble I went to to get this costume, throw in a few candles and it should be a nice romantic evening. Maybe she will even forget all of this women’s group foolishness! I may have spilled some coffee on the keyboard in my haste to jump up and go look for the ingredients, but I don’t think so. In any case, the firemen said it did take awhile for the wires to short out and get the blaze going as much as it did. I won’t mention it to anyone about how that might have been Marion’s fault since she didn’t come home right away.

Anyway, I was down in the kitchen before then, busily digging through the cupboards until I found the peanut butter and the bread, we had bananas too! Quickly setting it all out on the counter, I dug around finding the frying pan, as well as the bacon. I figured I could fry me up a few slices of bacon for my breakfast and there would be some grease left in the fry pan.

Sure enough, after frying up 9 or 10 pieces of bacon, I had a nice little puddle of grease left in the pan. Hmmm, I wonder how much grease might be too much? I briefly thought, Three or four of those sandwiches should soak up a fair amount.

Hearing sounds coming from the front door, I shot a look at the kitchen clock and saw I had miscalculated my timing. Marion was home so I had better run in and surprise her with the costume. I would return in a minute and get those sandwiches going while she freshened up from her day at the shelter.

In retrospect, I think it might have been the fry pan of grease on the stove that made the biggest contribution to the fire, but who is to say for sure? Running into the living room to greet Marion may not have been the wisest choice I made that day either, not with the costume and wig that I was wearing at the time.

You see, Elvis has been dead for awhile now. I suppose that seeing him come running from your smoky kitchen, might startle even the hardiest of persons, let alone a woman that has just left a depressing place like the woman’s shelter.

“Heyyyyyahhhhhhh!” She screamed, turning around to the sound of my running footsteps.

“Heyyyyy owwwwwwwwwww!” I screamed, as I went sailing over her shoulder, crashing into the fireplace.

“Woooo Haaaaaaaaaaa!” She screamed, as her foot smashed down onto my nose.

“Hahhhhhhhhargggghh, owwww, owwww!!” I screamed, as my nose broke and blood went flying everywhere.

“EEEEEEEEEWAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH ehhhhhwammmmmmm!” She screamed again, as she drove her foot directly into my crotch.

“Wait, wait, WAIIIIITTTTTTTTTTT! Arghhhahhh!!!!” I screamed, as my crotch erupted into fire and I rolled over, puking into the upturned coffee table.

Marion really didn’t mean to break my nose and crush my testicles, she assured me all the way to the hospital emergency room. “Oh God Steve!” She cried. “What on the earth possessed you to scare me like that?”

“I wath tying to supise youuuuu," I moaned through the wet towel, she had grabbed from the floor of the bathroom.

Walking up the stairs of the hospital was difficult, bowlegged as I was from my swollen testicles. Getting through the door, I hardly even noticed the stares of the people in the waiting room. Looking down at what used to be a pretty nifty white sequined Elvis costume, I was dismayed to see the blood all over it, but I knew that Marion would be able to clean it up after we got home.
The doctor kept me overnight for observation since I had a pretty good fall and walking was so difficult. He thought it best I just lay down for awhile.

Maybe it was time to discuss having a family, Marion just had too much time on her hands, that was the trouble. I would have discussed it with her too, but she walked in the next day and handed me some papers from her attorney, telling me that while we were at the hospital our house had burned to the ground. I found out, a few weeks later, that she and her friends had decided to stay in Memphis and open a new woman’s shelter there.
© Copyright 2005 E E Coder (ecoder at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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