241. Not a glimmer
© Bruce Goodman 8 June 2014
Marlene was in a terrible hurry. She was late. She had an appointment at the vet’s for her dog, Remington, in twenty minutes. It took quarter of an hour to get there. On the way she had to make an appointment for her car to be looked at. She needed to return the baking tin she had borrowed from a friend who required it urgently. She had to get some cash out. And the house was completely empty of cat food. All these things had to be rushed, because she didn’t like to leave Remington in the car by himself.
She raced to the car, got in, and realized she had forgotten her purse.
She raced back. She leapt in. She was hot and bothered. She turned the key. The car was dead. Not a glimmer of life.
Not a glimmer of bloody life.
Not a glimmer of bloody damn life.
“Oh for crying out loud,” wailed Marlene.