So twee jaar gelede het Reader’s Digest se 100 woorde storie kompetisie my aandag getrek. Die storie moes presies 100 woorde wees, nie minder nie, nie meer nie. Vir die grap het ek iets uitgedink en my liewe dogter, Pikkepensie, het sommer 2 stories uitgedink Sy mag net een ingestuur het, dus is die eerste storie nog nie presies 100 woorde nie. Nouja, ons het nie gewen nie, maar dit was pret! Hier is dan die 3 mini-storietjies sommer net so vir die reendag.
“A hundred words”, she ponders. “Words that heal, words that kill. How to tell a story, a life in a hundred words? I grew to love you, I grew to hate you and a world in between. How I loved you! When you needed me, I was there to ease your pain. No children, no pets, no friends, only you and your whims. Yet you despised me, slayed me with your harsh words. And I grew to hate you: your booze breath, your constant allergies, wheezing and sneezing. What to do? Well, fancy that: I’m going to get a cat!”
After three days she has to leave him, coz a new girl just got in. As he kisses her cold lips, he remembers the first day she came in. Her scarlet red lips and sexy lingery. He took good care of her. He did her hair and makeup and sat with her during the night. He told her secrets and fixed her bed. He’s sad to let her go, but excited to meet the new girl. He gently picks her up and rests her in her bed. As he kisses her cold lips, he realises the girl is dead.
Laughing, talking, drinking. First you talk the good stuff, then the not-so-good stuff. You speak your mind about politics and different religions. You stay on the red. Your eyes become drowsy and your limbs become heavy. You talk the bad stuff, but your secrets are kept safe. You wake up with the taste of red wine on your lips. Your heart’s pain and aching head is the same.