Improvised Fiction

Ted was wandering his local mall, minding his own business, benignly contemplating the autonomous unit for mid-mall snacking he had recently patronized, the Original Cookie Company. Previously, his brain had been immersed in the contemplation of the various methods available to him to remove a chocolate stain (partially caused by the afore- mentioned company's product) from the knit creme henley he had purchased not two days ago from the very establishment in front of which he was now standing, the Gap. His mind was soon abuzz with which store to blame, the company that had supplied the stain-creating substance, or the store that had failed to put stain-potentiality warnings on their wares.

Due to the complete clarity of mind with which Ted examined his current quandary, he neglected to appreciate the velocity with which a rather attractive young woman approached, bearing a rather large sledgehammer.

Just before Ted came to his conclusion that the Original Cookie Company was to blame, he felt a distinctly great pain crushing into his left foot pinkie toe.

"Jeeeezus Chrissst!!!" he exclaimed, at a volume that quickly grabbed the attention of mall patrons as far away as the Dillard's houseware section. "Are you out of your mind, Sarah?? What the hell are you doing in the mall with a sledgehammer?!" he demanded.

"You killed Henry and you didn't even put the toilet seat down!" Sarah cried.

"I did not kill your damned hamster - he escaped from his cage," Ted explained, between a series of swear words denigrating his newly-violent wife, and insinuating her possible relations to various canine species. "I don't know where he is."

"You jackass - then how the hell did he end up in the toilet?!"

"The toilet? How did you know I flushed him?"

"You can't flush anything bigger than a fish, you dumbass. He may have gone down for awhile, but he came back up - do you have any idea how traumatic it is to come home in a hurry to pee, and find your closest friend floating in the commode!? You bastard!!" Sarah screamed and plunged the sledgehammer once again on Ted's unsuspecting feet. This again elicited from him several more appeals to the Son of Man, as well as numerous indictments of his betrothed's sanity.

At this point, Ted's mind, when not focused on the intense pain in his feet, considered the ramifications of the "honor and obey" sections of his marriage vows. His next action confirmed his rejection of that clause, as he attempted to grab the offending instrument of torture from his wife's clutches.

"Give me that damn thing," he yelled, and they proceeded to wrestle for possession of the sledgehammer. Sarah, however, took advantage of her husband's wounds, and promptly stepped on his left pinkie toe, which in turn brought more screams and pleas to Our Lord.

"Bitch!" he yelled, sucker-punching the woman whom he had vowed to cherish forever so many months ago. Sarah reeled back towards the railing overlooking the food court. Ted advanced, and she kicked out at him with her right leg, which Ted caught, and, perhaps forgetting that his wife's back was against a third story rail, shoved.

"Oh, shit!" Ted cried, as the realization quickly sank in that his wife was not currently equipped with the technology to defy the laws of gravity. He swiftly grabbed the previously offending leg and found himself dangling his wife high above a Sbarro eating area filled with concerned Sbarro patrons, many of whom were rapidly vacating the premises lest their meals be ruined by the corpse of a 27-year old Caucasian female.

By this time, the ever-vigilant and timely mall security forces were on hand to assist Ted in his fight against gravity. Surprisingly enough, they succeeded. Sarah was returned to her proper vertical position, and all was well.

"God, honey, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to kill Henry, I swear - I was just making my coffee, and he'd gotten out somehow, and he nibbled on my left pinkie toe, and I just freaked out." cried Ted, obviously distraught with remorse.

"Baby, I'm sorry, I love you. You saved my life," she whimpered.

"It was my fault anyway - I almost killed you..." he replied.

"Well, I did have a sledgehammer," she admitted.

"I'm so sorry about Henry, I'm such an asshole. Let's go home," he said, at which point he thanked the helpful guards, and the two proceeded out the nearest exit, crying and apologizing all the way. Many of the mall patrons smiled knowingly, while those who had yet to experience firsthand the peculiar blisses of marriage, wore expressions of confusion and disbelief.

The mall returned to its previous general semblance of normalcy. No one noticed 12-year old Billy McCarthy, who surreptitiously absconded with the sledgehammer after it had been knocked out of Sarah's hand to finally reside behind a large plant potter. With a mischevious look in his eye, young Billy dashed home with his prize.

He had always known it was his sister Jane who had killed his hamster.

(improvised over the course of 45 minutes on Sunday, January 24, 1999 in my living room while watching "The Freshman," starring Matthew Broderick and the great Marlon Brando)