Tea with Elvis

Diana paused for a moment, then gripping the curtains she threw them back. She sighed at the sight. That's just how I feel, grey and miserable. If only it had been bright and cheerful, perhaps a bit of sunshine, she would have felt better.

Just then she heard Richard shout something from downstairs. Wandering to the bedroom door, rubbing her eyes and yawning, she opened it,

"What was that darling?" she mumbled.

"I'm going now. See you later?"

"OK," she mumbled louder. She was glad he'd gone early. There’s nothing worse than a man under your feet first thing in the morning.

The bathroom door was wide open. The toilet seat was up and the top was off the toothpaste. The pink hand towel, she'd hung over the rail, was slung over the side of the bath like an old rag. She picked it up, It was cold and damp. She found herself looking in the mirror. She could see, beneath her intelligent hazel eyes, small lines. Licking her finger, she tried to wipe them away. They were still there. Her short mousy hair was suffering from a night on the pillow. Her gaze dropped, but she quickly looked up again. I know they're sagging, she thought, I can feel them. She filled the basin with luke warm water and splashed her face, and cursed as she tried to dry herself with the soggy towel. The first squeeze of the toothpaste sent a small blob of striped mint hurtling towards the toilet. It made a quiet plopping sound as it hit the water. She wished Richard a million deaths at that moment. Calm down, calm down, she told herself, sit on the loo and relax. She made herself comfortable, and glanced at the toilet-roll holder. A thin, brown, naked tube stared back at her. There wasn't a new pack in sight.

"I bloody hate you Richard," she screamed.

A few minutes later, Diana had transformed her ageing 48 year old face into something more respectable. A dab of powder, a touch of eye liner, and a generous helping of lipstick had done the trick. She picked up Richard's slippers from the middle of the hall on her way to the kitchen. She cleaned away the empty cereal bowl, the half-empty mug of coffee, and wiped off the granules of sugar scattered over the table.

Soon she was sipping a fresh hot drink. I think I'll put bleach in his whiskey, she pondered. A picture of Richard's eyes wide and staring, came into her mind, his hand clutching at his throat, stifled gagging noises struggling to get past his lips. He's staggering around the sitting room, crashing into the furniture, his legs unable to hold him upright. 'You'll never forget to change the toilet roll again, will you?' She's screeching at the top of her voice. 'Toothpaste, think about the toothpaste.' His lips are trembling. His head is shaking rapidly from side to side. Then he collapses, like a disturbed deck of cards, onto the carpet.

An inward surge of happiness floods’ through her body. A large claw hammer makes short work of prizing up the floorboards. She summons up enough strength to push his corpse into the darkness below. The thud of his body is quickly followed by a million hisses, as the creatures that live there give thanks for their unexpected treat. Within minutes the floorboards are back and the carpet straightened. It's over. As if he never existed. Now they'll be only one dirty breakfast dish to wash.

The last remains of her morning elixir begin to congeal in the bottom of the cup. She thinks about swirling it, but stops. There's a face forming in the mixture. She stares at it, then she begins to recognise who it is. It's him, she gasps. Yes. Oh yes, it's him. The liquid reveals the smouldering features of Elvis, glistening seductively. His dark eyes delve into her soul. I loved you Elvis. A lump forms in her throat and her eyes moisten. I adored you. It was just you and me, until you married Priscilla. I was devastated. My world collapsed. For months I contemplated suicide, many times I had a handful of tablets and a glass of water ready, but I knew you wouldn't last with her. I would be waiting. I'd pick up the pieces and give you everything you desired. Oh what a night, what a night that would have been. As you came closer, my stomach would be churning and my heart pounding in my breast. I'd surrender. That one night with you is what I'd lived for.

The liquid moved and he was gone. A tear rolled gently down her cheek. Then you died. She sobbed. Why, Elvis, why? I worked late, and at weekends to save the fare to be with you. You could've waited. Together we would have faced the world. You wouldn't have had to rely on McDonalds. I would have cooked your hamburgers with low fat oil.

She pushed the cup away in despair. Richard was lucky to have married me. I was another man's woman. I'll tell him one day. He got me on the rebound. She took a slow deep breath. Ah well, back to the chores. The washing first I think. I suppose I'll have to look for his odd socks. Elvis wouldn't have had odd socks, and he didn't drink whiskey either, and even if he did I wouldn't think about putting bleach in it.