Passion's Invocation, Thursday Thrills

A Little Help From Our Friends

A Little Help From Our Friends


I sat in Leaping Water’s home as I had done a million times before. We had been best friends most of our lives. Her’s was a calm, patient, nature made of all things good and kind. I did my best to emulate her mannerisms but always fell short.

When L.W., my affectionate nickname for her, started seeing Danny I was stupefied. He was a drunken louse, a player in every sense of the word. For her benefit, I tried to make light of it and be there when she needed me. This Valentine’s Day, he stood her up without as much as a phone call.

L.W. was upset, hurt, confused and worried about him. I was seething inside, knowing he had stood her up to be with another woman.

I knew of the girl, vaguely. Sheila was a woman with no scruples; a cunning bitch who would stab her own mother in the back if it meant she could steal he man. Yes, I knew exactly where Danny was.

At 3am, we were watching old movies, while I plied L.W. with ice cream and made her laugh. Then, perhaps inevitably, he knocked on her door.

There stood Danny, in his black shorts with shirt open to hide the wrinkles. He wore his leather gloves as though that made him a man. I suppose he thought they were terribly sexy.

I rolled my eyes as I listened to her argue with him politely. Then, I saw him grab her by the back of her neck to force a disgusting kiss to her lips and I snapped.

I walked to the television where the marble lamp I had always admired was sitting. I unplugged it and carried it to the door, excusing myself as I pushed passed them into the corridor. I moved behind him while he filled L.W. with lies,

“But baby, I was stuck at work. You know I can’t call you from work!”

She cast her eyes to the ground. I knew she was wondering whether to believe him or not. I stifled the need to throw up while I lifted the marble lamp and brought it crashing down on his head.

Danny crumpled like a sack of potatoes, laid out and slightly bloody, on the carpet where he had stood. L.W. drew a sharp breath stunned at what I had done, though I’m sure the thought had crossed her mind a time or two as well.

“Wha…,” she began, “What… you… Is he…”

I heard the question she couldn’t voice but did not answer. I moved in front of his crumpled body, tore his gloves off and shoved them into his gaping mouth.I knew that Danny was just knocked out. I wanted to kill him, but knew he wasn’t worth going to jail for.

Then I heard L.W. stifling a wicked giggle. I smiled at her, picked up the lamp, and said,

“Hey, we get by with a little help from our friends.”

I retrieved the lamp, still fully intact, and shut the door on Danny. I took L.W.’s hand leading her back to the couch. I laughed as I plugged in the lamp again saying,

“Haven’t you always hated those damned gloves?”

She laughed with me, though she tried not to. I returned to sit close by her side until she finally relaxed.

“Shouldn’t we call the police, or an ambulance,” she asked quietly.

“Nah,” I replied smiling, “He’s a big boy. He’s unconscious, stunned for sure, but I’m sure he will find his way home… when he comes to.”

With that, I un-paused the movie, picked up our bowls and gently pushed hers into her hands. The ice cream was slightly melted, but no less good.

By Wildfire8470

© copyright 2013-03-17 05:35:09 UTC – All Rights Reserved

Happy Valentine’s Day Talullahrose. ❤

Wildfire8470 Digimarced

8 thoughts on “A Little Help From Our Friends”

  1. This is the second interpretation of this photo about a man who cheats. You handled it very well. But was she sure he was not dead. I love her for standing by her side as her best friend, protecting her.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.