The Steam Iron's Fault | Previous Challenge Entry

how it works

TITLE: The Steam Iron's Fault | Previous Challenge Entry
By Ingrid Forsberg
12/05/15
LEAVE COMMENT ON ARTICLE
SEND A PRIVATE COMMENT
ADD TO MY FAVORITES

The independently wealthy and single Noreen held the cell phone to her ear while she searched her large home room by room. “I agree,” she said as she adjusted the antique collectibles on her fireplace mantel. “Mrs. Winslow doesn’t meet our membership standards. What?” Noreen said. “Well, I knew the first time I saw her she doesn’t belong in our women’s club. You know she drinks too much.” She listened then added, “Me too, I saw her outrageous tattoo. She wears her skirts way too short.” Noreen nodded in agreement then said, “I know. She dresses like a teenager, and she’s thirty years older than I am.”

By the time, the conversation ended Noreen had found two empty bottles her alcoholic cousin left hidden under the sofa. “She hides vodka every time she visits,” Noreen said to Farid, her Persian cat. “I hope it’ll be a long time before she comes again.” Farid followed Noreen to the trashcan then to the laundry room.

Noreen set up the ironing board and got out the iron. The water level indicator was on full. “Farid, I don’t remember leaving this steam iron filled, but I guess I did.” She plugged it in.

While she was ironing, she smelled rubbing alcohol. Inhaling deeply she said, “Farid, I adore the scent of rubbing alcohol.” She took a deep breath of steam. Noreen began to sing and dance as she ironed. Suddenly she tossed the blouse she was ironing aside and boogied with the iron. It finally went dry, so she unplugged it. “Well, that’s done,” she muttered.

A happy Noreen stumbled out of the laundry room. “Fazzrid, that iron thingy on the whatchamacallit sure smelled good.” She walked into a wall and giggled. “Hey Fazz cat, did you see that? The wall just bumped into me.”

Noreen staggered outside and opened the garage door. “I’m going to ride my lawnmower cause the grass is too high.” Noreen drove the mower across the front lawn at full speed. ”E-haw!” she yelled, “I’m riding like a cowboy.” Making a sharp turn, she roared down the sidewalk. A noise turned her head. Freddie, the TV clown, zipped by on his Harley-Davidson. “Yo Freddie!” she called. The sidewalk curved around an ancient oak. The mower continued straight and slammed into it. “When did that tree get there?” she slurred. “I never seen it.”

Freddie heard the collision and turned his Harley around. “Lady,” he asked, “are you hurt?”

“No, but I think this stupid tree is dented.” Noreen grinned and tried to focus as she stared at Freddie. “Well, aren’t you cute with your red nose? It matches your red shoes, suspenders thingy, and hair.” She gawked at him and said, “You need a great big hug.”

It was love at first squeeze for both of them. “I like you lots,” said Noreen. “You aren’t very tall, but you’re cute, and you smell like rubbing alcohol. Let’s get married tonight. Farid, my cat, needs a daddy.”

“I’ll drink to that,” said Freddie. He whisked out a bottle of booze and shared it with her.

Noreen woke with a splitting headache the next morning in a strange bed. “Where am I?” she groaned.

“You’re in Vegas,” a male voice answered. Noreen looked to see Freddie in the bed with her. “We got married last night. You proposed, remember?” Noreen looked at him like he was crazy.

“We’re married?” She thought a moment and asked, “Are you sure?”

He grinned and reached for the marriage license. “For better or worse.”

Slowly her fog lifted. “Oh, now I remember,” she said snuggling up to him. “We are married.”

Fifty-eight months passed. Noreen and her short husband Freddie sat on the couch in front of the fireplace. Four-year-old Lacey climbed between them. “Daddy, will you make me a balloon animal? I want a red giraffe with a long neck.”

“One balloon creature coming up,” said Lacey’s dad. She watched him take a long red balloon from his clown vest pocket. He blew the balloon up and quickly twisted it into a giraffe. Handing it to her he said, “Don’t let Farid pop it.”

“OK, Lacey said. “Thanks, daddy,” Lacey scrunched her face in deep thought. “Daddy,” she asked, “Grammy Winslow said a stork brought me. Did a stork really bring me?”

Laughing out loud her dad answered, “No Lacey, the stork isn’t the reason you’re here, your mother’s steam iron is.”

PREVIOUS ENTRY | NEXT ENTRY
SUBMIT YOUR ENTRY FOR THIS WEEK'S CHALLENGE

The opinions expressed by authors may not necessarily reflect the opinion of FaithWriters.com.

If you died today, are you absolutely certain that you would go to heaven? You can be right now. CLICK HERE

JOIN US at FaithWriters for Free. Grow as a Writer and Spread the Gospel.