'Definition of Anger' by Joanne Mallon

It’s our anniversary today. Our 14th Anniversary, not the first or the tenth. Just a run of the mill steak dinner at home anniversary.

But the pretty box on my side of the bed has been carefully placed while I was in the shower. Pretty lingerie, a body brush and a pot of chocolate, all wrapped in tissue and sprinkled with sparkly testicle confetti sit before me.

She just doesn’t get it. It’s not that I don’t want to, not that I don’t think she’s the prettiest lass in town; I do. I do want to, and I do want her. But I just can’t, I can’t. I don’t know why, and I hate myself for it.

'Boring boring boring' by David Dunford

He was the archetypal anorak. All he ever talked about was the perfect real ale. In all probability he was a very caring person with a wife and kids. But all this talk about ABV’s, Cask conditioning, micro breweries, good colour, nice head, fruity aftertaste on and on and on. For Christ’s sake get out with your mates, have a goodtime and drink the stuff. Get wobbly legged, tell jokes, laugh loud and enjoy a bit of all male company. Stagger home, sleep downstairs to avoid the wife, live with tomorrow’s hangover, go to work feeling rough and tell more mates about last night. Get some flowers for the wife (not chocolates with the diet) on the way home from work and make it up with her so you can do it again next time.

Get a Life!!

'Companionship' by Ray Chiverton

They sat in the pub as they always had done, every week for many years. Same time, same seats. Good friends, best friends. They were rarely maudlin and they never discussed their friendship. They just enjoyed the other’s company and enjoyed having a laugh.

“I wish I could write like Ben Elton, or John Sullivan.” Dave wished for lots of things.

“He’s very funny, Ben Elton” agreed Den. “He can use words as well as be funny. In one episode he managed to get discombobulation into the dialogue. He tried to trick Doctor Johnson with that one.”

“I loved Melchett and the rude words. Crevice was one. Brilliant!”

Den guffawed as they enjoyed the moment. “I like a good crevice now and again” he said, a bit too loud.

“Hey careful” hissed Dave, “there is a family behind you”. 

“I know I know. I saw them. One looked like a retard…..he was wearing a West Ham shirt.” 

The banal humour appealed to then both as they laughed out loud, like they always had done, every week for many years.

'Sorted!!' by Kate Rawding

“Oh yea oh yea, I won, I won. See I told you I could win it, you didn’t believe me did you Tom? Buddy started licking Alfie’s face, trying to remove any last traces of cheesy wotsits. “You think you’re the best at everything, but you haven’t won any race’s have you. And I didn’t cheat; you can ask Mr Leonard if you like. Mum what did Mrs Lawry mean when she said ‘will the parents please refrain, from using inappropriate language’?”

“Well, it means, do not swear.”

“Mum! Why would they swear at a school race?”

“Because they might get over enthusiastic; caught up in all the excitement, Alf.”

“And why, was Matthew’s dad running with him, he kept shouting ‘come on Matthew, second place is no place.”

“He was just encouraging Matthew.”

“I’d like it if dad could come and watch me; he never comes to anything at school.

Is that cos I’ve got ADHD? He gets really cross sometimes; but I did my best today. I didn’t even get sidetracked, not even when that dog started joining in. 

Why were you telling Tom about Murray? And who’s Benny Hill? What’s funny about Murray running round in circles and Mr Leonard chasing him? It wasn’t about Murray, mum, it was about me.”

“Well Alf, I really am proud of you!!!  I just keep seeing cheeky Murray in his sanguine shirt running long after the race had finished and the teacher trying to catch him!”

“Did they give you a medal Alf? Or any extra house points?”

“No, they didn’t give me anything; well apart from Percy the parrot, for perseverance! I get to keep him for the weekend. Can we take him to the park and play footy tomorrow?” 

“If it’s dry; well matey how about battered sausage and chips for tea, from the chippy; for my superstar son?”

“Can I have a panda pop too?” 

'Je’ t’Adore' by Jenny Fisher

Julie and Tom strolled arm in arm by the river bank.  The Thames was at its best, the sun glinting on the water, the boats gently bobbing up and down.  They perceived a magical ambience.

Julie stopped at a side stall that sold coffee laced with hints of liqueur essences.

‘Look Tom, wouldn’t it be lovely to sit here and have one of those coffees.’

‘Because I adore you so much, we certainly will.’

They sat down and just then the sonorous chimes of Big Ben echoed over the water.  The atmosphere of gentle living and historic surroundings was complete.

To be broken almost immediately by a group of four male teenagers on roller blades. They were skating through the crowds oblivious to everyone except themselves.  Suddenly one careered into another sending him flying into the concrete balustrade.

‘You stupid clot,’ he shouted at the top of his voice.  ‘Watch it, you can’t be trusted on those blades, I almost broke my leg! More lessons are needed here,’

The younger one was very contrite and apologised profusely.

‘I couldn’t help it,’ he was almost whimpering and he was obviously terrified of the other older lad.

Julie and Tom watched this with a mixture of amusement and concern.  Tom walked over to the group and said,

‘How about you all joining us for a drink; it’s my treat.’

The older one looked at him with utter incomprehension,

‘You must be joking’, he said.

'Crisps' by Natalie Bowers

Crisps? She hated crisps. They were all right when you first put them in your mouth, but after you’d given them a bit of a chew, they always dissolved into a gooey mess which you’d then have to spend the rest of the day picking out of your teeth.

Why he’d bought her a packet, she couldn’t work out. True, they hadn’t seen each other for a while, but it wasn’t as if she hadn’t made her feelings about them more than clear on more than one occasion. Yet there she was with a packet of Cheese & Onion - her least favourite flavour – sitting in her lap and him grinning at her as if he’d just presented her with that week’s winning lottery ticket.

“Well, go on then,” he said. “Open them.”

She just about managed not to wrinkle her nose. “Thanks, but maybe later. I’m not that hungry at the moment.” She picked up the packet and set it on the table. “So, tell me about your trip.”

“Pleeeeeeease,” he said, like a child who knew exactly how to irritate his parents into giving him what he wanted. “Open them.”

Raising an eyebrow, she turned the packet over. It was a little crumpled, and the seam running down the back appeared to have been resealed with sticky tape. She frowned, looked up at him, then looked down at the packet again.

“What’s this all about?” she asked, teasing the tape with her fingernail.

He shuffled forward in his seat. “Just open—”

“All right. All right.” She had to laugh. “I’m opening them.” As she peeled back the tape, the seam gaped like a greedy mouth and revealed not the flat, fatty slices of fried potato she’d been expecting, but shells, seashells. “Oh!” She poked in her finger and thumb, drew one out and held it up. “It’s … lovely,” she said. The tiny, beige spiral was so thin, so delicate that light seemed shine right through it. She lay it on the table then gently tipped the rest into her palm. There looked to be about twenty in total – different sizes, different colours, all beautiful. “You collected these? For me?”

“I picked this first one up on Hayling Island.” He pushed a small fragment of slate-grey razor shell toward her. “D’you remember?”

She thought back. “I do.” It had been the day before he’d set off on his round-the-world trip. They’d just finished their picnic when he’d started fidgeting on the blanket next to her. “You kept fiddling with it until it broke into little pieces. Why on earth did you keep it?”

He shrugged and glanced away. Slowly, he picked up the shard and began to turn it over and over in his hand. “It reminded me of that day I suppose. They all did. That’s why I collected them, and why I kept the packet.”

She thought back again. Yes, she remembered; it had been one of those ‘more than one’ occasions on which she’d made her feelings about crisps more than clear.

“You know,” he said, his hands suddenly still. “I’ve been kicking myself every day since then.”

“What for?” Her gaze flickered down to his mouth, and she bit her lip.

“For eating those crisps.”

'Friends' by Charlotte Comley

'What does the term friend actually refer to?'
'I don't understand what you mean friend.'
'See there you go again, friend. I've only just met you and it's friend this and friend that.'
He paused and smiled. For a moment I found the pastel blue shirt and cream chinos threatening.
'In our religion we see everyone as friends. There are no strangers in the world only friends we haven't met yet.'
'That's nice,' I said but I was uncertain. I like the idea in principle. But I was scared of stories of cults in the bible belt. He bent over my engine again, he seemed comfortable with machinery, maybe he was a farmer? I wouldn't have thought that cream trousers would have been practical for that profession. He had a wedding ring. Probably kids too, there was nothing else to do out here.
'There you go friend. I think it will get you into the next town but you need your radiator fixing today. I'll follow you, make sure you get there safely.'
'The problem is I need to get to the city tonight.' I chewed my bottom lip.
'Well friend perhaps one of my kin will be able to take you. You could leave the car in the garage and get a ride into the city. For every problem there is a solution. In our religion...'
He stopped and looked down at the crimson rose blossoming against his chest.
'Yeah well, I was taught that the Lord helps those who help themselves.'