Tags
"Some people care too much. I think it's called love."- A.A.Milne, Catch a train - catch a breeze - on your hands - on your knees, Crumbs Penfold, Fine art never moved my soul No vintage wine designer clothes, Humour, Just for laughs, Polyamorous, She caught me off my guard It amazes me- the will of instinct, Spring has returned, swinger, Tongue firmly in cheeky cheek, Why do you build me up (build me up) buttercup baby Just to let me down (let me down), You can ring my bell
He’s gone again.
How many times must I endure this cruelty? How many times will he just disappear, telling me naught of where he’s going, returning sporadically without explanation, seemingly on a whim, regardless of my feelings? I think he must hate me! But then he returns, with his smiles and gifts, telling me how beautiful I am, and how he loves me, and I forgive. I always forgive.
Perhaps he’s getting bored of me. He’s always praising my singing; the perfect audience, right up to the point he suddenly isn’t, and starts screaming at me to shut the hell up.
What could I possibly have done differently to save our love? I mean yes, there was the incident with the newspaper, but I was just in a foul mood and had no idea he hadn’t read it yet. I was terrified; he turned on me, changed completely, and the day I ruined his best suit . . . I tremble to think of the events that afternoon . . .
Sometimes I think he must be ashamed of me too, as he never takes me out anywhere nice — never out at all actually. I often feel like a prisoner in my own home! And when his loathsome friends are ‘round drinking, they won’t leave me alone, grinning like idiots and winking at me all the time, hoping I might reciprocate their filthy thoughts. Not that I really mind the attention, these days . . .
Oh, how desperate I sound! I’ll never forgive him again, I’ve had enough! A girl can’t live like this . . . That’s what he calls me: his best girl. Still, how I do love him, those big blue eyes, his broad smile . . .
No! No. I must be strong! Look in the mirror and be honest with myself! I’ll go mad. It’s no life this — swinging emotionally back and forth on a mad trapeze, receiving paltry crumbs when I’ve given him my very life. Never knowing when he’ll turn, suddenly finding those nicotine stained fingers all over me, probing away.
Bastard!
What’s that? The front door. He’s back! I’m not giving in this time; I’ll turn my back and stay there; I swear I won’t look — if I ignore him for long enough he might truly understand how much he hurts me.
I steady my nerves and turn around, facing the living room wall, and hear him enter the room. Oh God, he’s blowing me kisses, I can hear him; I must hold out, I . . . I must! I won’t let the filthy pig ring my bell tonight! But I’m too weak, I can’t stand it, can’t bear to be cruel to him dammit; I may be mad, but I love him — love him I tell you!
I turn around and see his big handsome face, and I just can’t help jumping up and down on the spot with joy. I’m a fool I know, but a happy one!
He slowly pulls out his gift.
Oh my God! It’s amazing!
“Hello beautiful. Guess what I have for you my sweet girl? Oh, don’t look like that, come on now . . . who’s a pretty girl then? Polly want a cracker?”
Oh god yes! Yes, I do want a fucking cracker!
I take the cracker, neck it, then head bang the mirror on the bars, knowing the sound it makes when the bell rings always has him looking like the happiest man in the world!
Of course I forgive him!
Esme's Cloud 
I love it, what a way to give a different POV. I was wrong with my first two guess, so it was with a big smile I realized at the end. Great story teller. Hugs
LikeLiked by 3 people
I’m honoured you think so Scottie, and very pleased you didn’t guess in advance!
LikeLiked by 2 people
What a story!
Such a great rewarding experience in retrospect!
LikeLiked by 2 people
By the Gods, thank you sir! That’s just what I was aiming for!
esme highly chuffed upon the Cloud
LikeLiked by 1 person
Truthfully at first I didn’t ‘like’ it, and as it became clear to me what had been done–I loved it.
LikeLiked by 3 people
I know, I thought about that as I was writing it hoping it’s short enough for people to hang on in there until the end, otherwise . . . I’m in trouble! Hahahaha.
Mega thanks for telling me that. – beams a big smile his way
esme gambling away upon the Cloud
LikeLiked by 2 people
I thought it was quite witty, refreshing. I enjoyed it. I thought I had it pegged two-thirds through. I thought a cat. It wasn’t a cat, was it? Cat what a cracker?
LikeLiked by 2 people
I’m glad you enjoyed it Peter. I can’t be giving any clues away in the comments in case some loon decides to skim down here first and then go back to read the piece, so I’ll stick with no for my answer nods and throws a cracker at his head
esme of crackers fame upon the Cloud
LikeLiked by 2 people
This is such a wonderful, suspenseful and romantic tale, esme. You fooled me complete — cursed a ne’er-do-well who never was did I. Had climbed to the roof and dealt a fist of knuckles to the imagined cad, lost all footing and rolled fool-force into the gutter to gaze at the stars as were I a Wilde.
A bow to the cloud. Well written and well wrought 🙂
LikeLiked by 2 people
Sneaky esme eh?! Hahahahaha. You’re immensely kind to write such words Bill regarding my story, and I’m sorry to say I’m very pleased you were fooled good and proper, though you’ll never end up in the gutter, for esme will catch you as you fall and bring you up to Cloud for tea and sticky buns and we can watch the stars from there instead.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Love it Esme! I was expecting a doggie…. Polly is such a good girl 😉
LikeLiked by 2 people
I thought some might suspect a tricky angle, and cats can sing too so I see where you were going there Val hehehehe. Thank you for loving it! And more-so for telling me.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Cheers Esme 🍷
LikeLiked by 2 people
❤
LikeLiked by 2 people
That’s so much better Esme! I am seriously impressed at your induced creativity and hilarity.
Cheers 🍷
LikeLiked by 2 people
Hahahahaha Thank you Val, I may come back to you for a reference should I decide to go for a one woman/one Cloud/one dog/one bottle of vodka show in the west end!
esme (not really a drunkard folks) (probably) upon the Cloud with Val having a high time
LikeLiked by 2 people
I’ll bring my dogs and we’ll undoubtedly have fun!
LikeLiked by 2 people
What kind of dogs do you have Val?
esme curious/nosy upon the Cloud
LikeLiked by 1 person
This was chilling. To the bone. I’ve known relationships like this; my own mom and dad danced this way. Others. Many others telling the same sad tale. So. Glad I hung in, as well – which I would do, of course, I’m loathe to turn away from material, once I’ve committed. Good bit of writing, Ms.Esme! ❤
LikeLiked by 2 people
This is interesting, and I wondered if anyone would mention the real-life instances of this grim situation, because as I was writing I was acutely aware of the abuse and acceptance of it by the main character, and wanted to show it as an insidious dance, one woven into the relationship. This does happen every day in many relationships between all sexes and all combinations of said sexes and it is chilling as you say. I’m hoping no-one will unhappy at the employment of such misery for comedic purposes, but my intention, along with the humour, was to show how horrendous one should find the story right up until the last minute, when relief would pour out hand in hand with laughter, but the knowledge remains that were the main character a woman, she’d be in no better a position than a caged bird, (something I also abhor with a passion), and the lingering horror of that knowledge.
Thank you so much for your comment Bela, there are layers within, and you can see them — I’m so glad you did hang in there. ❤
LikeLiked by 3 people
Yes, I don’t like creatures in cages either. I love reptiles almost as well as anything. We’ve got the Jacksons chameleon here on the islands – sweet little horned beasts (males) who are amazingly gentle. I so want to see them populate our yard! But for whatever reason, they’re not in our area. For awhile, Chris and his helpers, two Hawaiian guys, would find them and bring them here. After greeting them, I’d simply turn them loose in the trees. Never saw them again(!)
As a young child, I once had a Java Rice Bird in a cage. It made me so sad, I’d let it loose in my room to fly around. I think it shortened the poor creature’s life as well – just too chaotic, given it had been raised in captivity. Now they come into our yard by the dozens, and I’m so glad to see them fly freely!
Same with humans – to think so little of oneself that “love” means “captivity” makes me shudder with sadness and horror. If your aim was to get the reader to believe that was happening, only to discover something else, you did indeed succeed!
Handing esme in return a giant bouquet of Bird of Paradise and Shell ginger blossoms, interlaced with Amaumau fern and sprigs of heavenly scented Tuberose ❤
LikeLiked by 2 people
It was, so I’m thrilled I did successfully!
No entity should be caged,( barring murdering folks and the like ).
esme loving the blooms and waving at Bela upon the Cloud ❤
LikeLiked by 2 people
You are such a story teller, Esme.
And I think there are countless women who could identify with this story, every bit of it. It speaks to the heart, expresses the emotional turmoil so many live with.
Have a great weekend
Mak waving from the terra firma
LikeLiked by 2 people
“You are such a story teller, Esme.” – A compliment that has made my day, along with the other words you have left mak. Thank you.
You have a lovely weekend too, may the sun shine on you beams a smile
LikeLiked by 1 person
You wicked person, you! You really had me going. Fabulous. 😀
LikeLiked by 2 people
Ha! I am wicked. It’s out there too now you’ve said so. I can probably hide it again with a mountain of sticky buns and some hugging — lull suspicions raised about the apparently sweet esme. Cover my tracks . . .
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh the sticky buns are a stroke of genius, Esme. Everyone will be too busy eating to notice ‘by the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes.’ 😀
LikeLiked by 2 people
LikeLiked by 1 person
Ah, you learned from the master. Any chocolate coated buns on this cloud?
LikeLiked by 2 people
You’ll be asking for jam on them next!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Well, now that you mention it….?
LikeLiked by 2 people
(Pilfered, as all the best jokes tend to be)
The French Foreign Legion is marching through the desert, as they are wont to do. Unfortunately, their navigation leaves something to be desired. By the time they realise how lost they are, their water supplies are all but exhausted. Deciding their best chance of survival is to keep walking straight in the direction of the coast (many miles away) and hope to hit civilisation, they ration their water as well as they are able. Despite their best efforts, the precious supplies dry up far too soon.
Marching along in the beating afternoon sun, the men become dehydrated and irritable. One cries out “Tents! Up ahead”, but this is dismissed as a mirage. After a few minutes, the regiment realises that it is, in fact, not a mirage, but a small gathering of tents in the middle of the desert! They run to it, the hope of water providing extra strength even through their exhaustion.
Reaching the shade of the tents, they discover it’s a small produce market. They cry out in joy “We made it!” Approaching the nearest stall, they observe it sells puddings.
“Have you any water?” they ask.
“No, I have no water. I sell only these puddings of sponge. With jam, jelly, sometimes cream.”
“You’re out in the desert and you have no water?” they ask, incredulous.
“I see you have no water, but my wares are my wares. I sell puddings” he waves his hand across the stall.
Somewhat stunned, they move onto the next stall.
“Have you any water?”
“No. I sell many puddings with sponge, jam, jelly and custard.” Glancing down in dismay, they see that he also is selling these strange sweet dishes.
“Never mind” they say, and carry on into the market.
After several minutes, they have approached every stall. Not one of them has any water, and each one sells these puddings. Puddings, nothing but puddings. Baffled and thoroughly demoralised, they realise there is no help for them here and resume marching.
As the tents shrink in the distance behind, one soldier among them turns to his companion and remarks “Well, that was a trifle bazaar.”
LikeLiked by 1 person
Meeka-rolls-on-floor-laughing
LikeLiked by 2 people
Ahhahahahaha!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Having read your piece, I at once searched Google for the origins of this phrase “Polly want(s) a cracker”, being unsure as to quite what a ‘cracker’ was, whilst part suspecting, if truth be told, some sort of Jägermeister and Methamphetamine cocktail. Consulting a dear friend of mine, she at once alerted me to its usage by Ben Jonson in Valpone, though it appears the venerable author had referred to aforesaid Polly the Parrot earlier in his Epigrams of 1516. What puzzled me somewhat, almost to the point of amazement given the sonorous pulchritude of the phrase, was that I could find no references whatsoever to “I do want a fucking cracker”. We see from the graph below that “Polly want(s) a cracker” hits a peak of popularity during WWII, yet this gem within your coruscating opuscule appears nowhere at all within any written work of any epoch! You have thusly demonstrated, madam, the creation of one of the great expressions in the matter of parrots and their vivers of our, or any other, time.
https://books.google.com/ngrams/graph?content=Polly+wants+a+cracker%2CPolly+want+a+cracker&year_start=1800&year_end=2008&corpus=15&smoothing=3&share=&direct_url=t1%3B%2CPolly%20wants%20a%20cracker%3B%2Cc0%3B.t1%3B%2CPolly%20want%20a%20cracker%3B%2Cc0https://books.google.com/ngrams/graph?content=Polly+wants+a+cracker%2CPolly+want+a+cracker&year_start=1800&year_end=2008&corpus=15&smoothing=3&share=&direct_url=t1%3B%2CPolly%20wants%20a%20cracker%3B%2Cc0%3B.t1%3B%2CPolly%20want%20a%20cracker%3B%2Cc0
LikeLiked by 4 people
“some sort of Jägermeister and Methamphetamine cocktail” – That’s just your average Saturday afternoon here on the Cloud.
I could find no references whatsoever to “I do want a fucking cracker”. – HAHAHAHAHAHA. Ahem. It isa good expression, yes. Thank you – steals cracker out of his pocket
Marvellous comment Hariod, as ever, and a graph too! People need to know these things! Probably. Here’s another side to the story though; the Nirvana sent out a message to the world about the unfortunate situation many parrots find themselves in, in one of their most popular tunes;
Polly Wants a Cracker – Nirvana
LikeLiked by 1 person
With regard to your elegant comment,forgive me Hariod, but may I make so bold as to ask ‘were you a dictionary in your last life?’ Or am I just thick? lol
LikeLiked by 2 people
The precise details of my lineage, Mrs 53, vis-à-vis metempsychosis, remain too complex for disquisition here; though to enubilate, at least in some degree, I can at least confirm there was little of a heteroclite nature, save for the brief phase of my woodland living as a tree climber and be-furred beast in the mountains of Wales (as it is now known), invoking as I then did much obloquy from the locals, led as they then were by the purblind and senescent Mrs Trellis — herself a forebear of many a future complainant and traducer on matters oblique to all.
LikeLiked by 2 people
This is why Hariod is going to be my chief of blather in the Cloud Cult for Aged Oddballs.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Hariod, all you had to say was: ‘Mrs 53, I was indeed a dictionary in my last life’. But I suppose you needed to convince me …:)))
And yes, you had me in stitches, if that was your intention. Which I very much suspect that it was. lol
LikeLiked by 2 people
I was ‘not at all’ liking the whole thing happening within this story. I almost quickly ‘clicked away’ to find some more pleasant story to while away my time with. However, being that I was taught as a young person that “Quitters never do anything worth a damn” I persevered (struggled, one could make the claim) and did come to the end quite glad I was told about how bad quitters were, but still upset with not only the human’s behavior, but that of the bird’s as well. I hold all animals accountable for their behavior!
Thank you for the story
The President and Founder
LikeLiked by 2 people
“Thank you for the story” – You read it! And liked it! I’m filling in the gaps there, but living on a Cloud makes you cheeky. It’s an affliction in many ways, and therefore esme is blameless for any assumptions made about the President and Founder, and how blown away he was by the cleverness of her story, having to take a moment afterwards (before the second or third, or fourth read-through), and lie on the Purple Couch of Power with a cold flannel upon his brow (*ponders if ‘merikans have flannels or not, and if it sounds like she’s saying he has a pair of old men’s underpants on his head or an actual flannel).
“but still upset with not only the human’s behavior, but that of the bird’s as well. I hold all animals accountable for their behavior!” – “It is not only for what we do that we are held responsible, but also for what we do not do.” – Molière
LikeLiked by 1 person
Touch me baby tainted love….
LikeLiked by 2 people
On the nose! Or beak.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I’ll have to admit…it took me a second. lol Because, like with Bela, I was pretty much thinking the whole time that it was a relationship between towo humans, knowing that this is an all too stark reality for some women. I wonder what parrots do think of their predicament? In the end would all of us prefer domestication for a guaranteed cracker? How much abuse are we willing to take?
Reading this made me think of this song, which is less dark, and I don’t think from the POV of a bird, but then again maybe it is in a metaphorical sense. 🙂 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6lXB-PcrS1M
LikeLiked by 3 people
Good, that was the plan. nods
“I wonder what parrots do think of their predicament?” – I think any sentient creature would be happier out of a cage, and there is no good reason to ever keep one in a cage/tank, unless in recovery from some kind of illness/accident. If you keep a bird in a cage, you’re doing so for purely selfish reasons, for your own entertainment. You can dress it up in as many heart-felt excuses as you like (not ‘you’ Swarn laughs), but it’s still for human entertainment. I don’t want to live in a cage, why should they?
Humans end up in emotional cages mind you, as alluded to in the story, and sometimes those bars are as hard to break through as metal cages.
Thanks for reading and leaving a comment Swarn, most appreciated.
LikeLiked by 3 people
Yeah definitely an 80’s feel to the song. 🙂
I agree with you. Anything that is supposed to fly, but is in a cage, is a rather sad state of affairs. I was just pondering on the fact that we have, for a large part given up freedom to range far and wide for a life in perhaps a square housing block to more efficiently ensure we get our square 3 meals a day. And while technically free to travel, many do not. And if they do it is in a rather planned and secure way. The uncertainty of where are next meal might be, has been traded in for domestication Wisely or unwisely I guess time will tell. 🙂 I’ve honestly never been a pet person at all. A big part of that I’d just rather let animals be outdoors and free ranging. I guess if we can improve the quality of life for mistreated animals that’s a good thing though. But I’m sure even our cats feel annoyingly trapped by us sometimes. lol Dogs seem to like it though I guess based on their social hierarchy mentality. That’s why I don’t have a dog. I should have to do more for a creature to get unending devotion than just providing food, a tennis ball and a few belly rubs now and again. lol
By the way I forgot to compliment your excellent writing, which hopefully was apparent by the fact that the ending took me by surprise. 🙂
LikeLiked by 3 people
There’s a feeling of safety, security, in staying in one place; small places, small spaces . . . when an animal is feeling scared they find the smallest space they can and squeeze in there, and I think humans have this built in as well, way back in the brain somewhere, but it displays itself most prominently by us staying in our living rooms, our comfort zones. We cage ourselves in.
I have Rosie, and fully believe that if you have the time and patience rescuing a cat or dog is the only feasible way to have one. It’s too late on the domesticity front, but worth bearing in mind that dogs have been shown to have been instrumental in their relationships with humans, and chose to build up mutually beneficial ones; they get fed, yes, and go and run around the fields with you,but there’s more, they aren’t just food, belly-rubs and a tennis ball thrown at all. Dogs have been shown to mentally connect with humans and can sense your moods and literally be your friend. It’s easily as strong as a family connection, probably closer in some instances, because the trust between the two is not questioned, ever. Those with cancer, or other long term illnesses gain a huge amount of happiness, a reduction of the lonely pain such situations produce, when living with a dog. Cats are ok too, but they are far more on their own terms. If you want a cuddle, feels scared and wants some reassurance — a dog will give all that happily. A cat is more likely to be mewing about the empty food bowl and licking its arsehole as you fall apart. But rescue is the key word here. I am 100% against paying for dogs because no matter what you say, it encourages breeders. There are billions of abandoned mistreated animals out there. No excuses. Rosie was bought from breeder by her previous owner, who treated her so badly during her two years on earth, that said owner has been banned from keeping animals for ten years (should be for life, end of). She was in a big cold cage shivering when I first saw her, and it’s been a long slow process bringing her out as she was incredibly withdrawn. She didn’t know how to play. Didn’t know what toys are. She didn’t wag her tail at all, but she was still affectionate and sweet. Silent as a white ninja mind. Now, she’s a waggy little scamp, still quiet, but I can tell she feels much, much safer. It’s been ten months. She’s found the best home in the world. I think aliens would see dogs and cats as mini slaves, and I can see why. With dogs there’s an amazing bond, its reciprocal, and I’d never have her on a lead at all if people weren’t so crazy with their cars and bikes. No choke chains mind you nods.
“By the way I forgot to compliment your excellent writing, which hopefully was apparent by the fact that the ending took me by surprise.” – About time! Hahahahaha
ps – Oh and rescue hens from battery farms and other horribly mistreated animals should also get our help when possible. We should use our lofty position for good. nods
LikeLiked by 3 people
“There’s a feeling of safety, security, in staying in one place; small places, small spaces . . . when an animal is feeling scared they find the smallest space they can and squeeze in there.” — I can totally empathise with that instinct, Esme.
LikeLiked by 3 people
LikeLiked by 2 people
I daresay that lady enjoys a cockatoo in there.
LikeLiked by 2 people
LikeLiked by 2 people
Cockatoo?! Hariod, you are naughty! Or is that Dick Emery??! lol
LikeLiked by 2 people
What a great story! I was so surprised by the ending with Polly! Such clever layering – making for a compelling second read – just to go gleaning the artful details, one by one with even more relish! Brilliant.
P.S. I have a bubble wand ~ and I’m blowing bubbles to you & cloud 🙂
LikeLiked by 2 people
“Just to go gleaning the artful details, one by one with even more relish!” – Thank you dear Niried! Very chuffed here that you’re enjoying it so much.
esme catching all the bubbles and storing them under the Cloud for special occasions
LikeLiked by 1 person
Dearest Esme, you clearly enjoy messing with your readers’ heads, don’t cha? The amygdala lights up like a National Lampoon Christmas tree — the hippocampus recollects the title to a 1980’s book “Women Who Love Too Much,” as well as a 1990’s “incident” involving Lorena Bobbitt. Then BAM — you realize she’s writing from the perspective of a flappin’, neurotic bird. 😂😂
You are one mischievously brilliant woman!
*Victoria shooting spitballs through a straw at Esme upon a Cloud
LikeLiked by 2 people
Hahahahaha. Well, I’m a sucker for a twist in the tale/tail. I’m laughing at where you took yourself and where I had you end up! And honoured at your compliments too. Thank you, much appreciation from this end. x
esme causing trouble and dodging spit balls upon the Cloud
LikeLiked by 2 people
What did this have me think? I over-thunk, thought of its metaphor of course. But more about its scaleability, then rode a thought train off on a jagged tangent-circle. I saw Trill muttering darkly in the feed tray, “when will Polly come and peck me up (buttercup)?” I saw Polly in her gilded cage (reciting Arthur J Lamb poem (parrot fashion)), I saw owner, owned in turn by his boss, in turn owned by his co, in turn owned by shareholders, in turn owned by customers, owned themselves by their Government, itself owned by mature society, owned by its geography, owned by the world, owned by strand of gravity lasso by the > Sun < That shone back through window and cage bars the light to illuminate that purrdy plumaged Norwegian Blue (?). Purddy plumage.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you for all your words there MM. It’s always interesting finding out where ones writing takes folk’s minds. In your case a long, long way— right round the sun and back. The big picture — and quite a dark one at that — everything in the universe owned by another, higher power. Poor owned owner. Poor owned pretty Polly. One and all owned, (bird food included) barring the fiery sun, who seems to come out of it all very well. It’s own planet so to speak.
I suppose the sun is the one constant we have beyond death, until it burns out of course, but we shall be long gone by then so have the luxury of imagining it to be so – .nods thoughtfully
And I’m hoping the writing itself has some merit too if it took you that far. – smiles
I appreciate you taking the time out for this, and I am now singing ‘Norweigan Wood’, which also features a birdy.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Love it! I know another blogger that keeps you guessing with just about every post – I’ve learned not to look at her tags if I want to figure it out myself! I got this one with cracker, mirror, bell – and then it was more fun to read again!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Hahaha, brilliant, well done that woman! I’d intended on it being a budgie originally, however the generic moniker for budgies is ‘Joey’ regardless of gender, and though I could have written it with the genders reversed, it wouldn’t have run quite so smoothly saying “Who’s a pretty boy then?” – falls about. Glad you enjoyed the ride spider, thank you very much indeed for telling me what you thought.
LikeLiked by 2 people
I love the puns in this Esme, and your story certainly gives ‘domestic violence’ a whole new meaning. lol
ps. I hope the foul/fowl mood has passed …
LikeLiked by 2 people
Ker-tish! laughs – Thank you Marie, it certainly gives people something to think about, poor Polly. So glad you enjoyed the tale!
LikeLiked by 2 people