The protagonist of today’s Friday Story appears to have been struck with a strong dose of the January blues. However, we hope that the razor-sharp detail and wit of this short story, written by King Solomon Academy student Alaa Lafta, will brighten up your day!
He’s wearing his ring to his ex-wife’s wedding. Let me clarify: he is wearing his wedding ring – the ring his ex-wife gave to him – at said ex-wife’s wedding. Her wedding to another person. Another person who isn’t fat.
I mean, I’m not exactly surprised that he rocked up to his ex-wife’s wedding uninvited, decked in a freshly laundered black suit and a lilac tie choking his chubby neck. In our first year at uni, he took a date to a restaurant where he treated her to the lobster speciality, worth well over £100. He ended up spending the evening alone, only to discover later on that she had climbed out of the bathroom window and had taken a taxi home. Turns out she was a vegetarian.
It was stories like this that he used to tell said ex-wife back when they were married. Her reply was always the same: a simpering smile followed by a dry ‘Poor Pat’.
He seated himself comfortably in a chair, his arm reaching up to twist a few hairs into place. I caught a glimpse of the cufflinks said ex-wife bought him as a present for their first-year anniversary. They were little dalmatian faces that peeked out between the holes in his cuffs. Funnily enough, Pat’s allergic to dogs. Said ex-wife knows this, yet he still wears them. I don’t think he’s caught the irony.
I could have broken it to him, could have told him that it’s not really normal to watch your ex-wife get married to someone else. Really I should have told him.
But, to be honest, it’s much more entertaining to see his reaction, to see his eyes widen as he watched his ex-wife walk down the aisle. In fact, his eyes seemed to ooze out of their sockets as he watched said ex-wife pull another woman alongside her, who was similarly clad in a lacy white dress.
Let’s just say that throughout the entire ceremony, particularly the part where the two women kissed, confused mutters seemed to spill from his mouth. His fingers couldn’t stop scratching a hole into his head.
Alaa Lafta, King Solomon Academy