Short Stories

The Disaster

“God, you’re gorgeous,” Pete slurred breathing fumes of stale beer into Liz’s face.

“Thanks,” Liz said, and then added, I think, in her head.

Pete pushed out his chest and grinned. “So, I think you are really pretty…”

I can hear a but, Liz thought.

“Have you ever considered losing weight. Just a couple of pounds… well, maybe a bit more and then you would be perfect.” Pete placed a hand on her stomach and Liz’s eyes went wide. He patted her. Liz slid away from his touch and motioned to the toilets. He nodded and took another drink.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw Mary detach herself from Josh and walk in the same direction. Getting there first, Liz went in. Stepping carefully to avoid the general puddles of water, Liz went over to the sink and leant on it. She looked at her reflection and for a moment she saw the fat ogre that her minds eye made her appear, and then her vision cleared. She was pretty, not gorgeous, but good looking. Okay, maybe she was a little heavy but she had never had any complaints… Until now.

“Liz, are you pregnant?” Mary had just come through the door and at the question the whole damn room became quiet. You could hear a pin drop.

“No!” Liz said, loudly. “Why did you think I was?” In her mind’s eye the ogre raised its head.

“Because he was rubbing your tummy.”

The ogre vanished and anger replaced it. “No, he wants me to lose weight.”

Cries filled the toilet. Even from the cubicles, one sounding remarkably male. Liz widened her eyes at Mary, who shrugged and grinned. They both looked at the stall but it didn’t open.

“So what are you going to do?” Mary asked.

“Do? Well, I am going to go home.”



“You can’t just leave him out there,” Mary said.

Liz smiled and it didn’t reach her eyes. “Oh yes I can.” She then turned and left.

A few minutes later Mary walked out and almost ran into Pete’s chest. He stood there a moment staring at her blankly. He was so drunk that he wobbled slightly.

“Ish-she in there?”

“No,” Mary said, pushing past.

Pete grabbed her arm. “Where is she?” He looked furious and for the first time Mary realised that this man might be a dangerous drunk.

“She went home.”

“Where’s that?”

“Oy! Leave my girl alone!” Mary sighed with relief and Pete dropped her arm and shuffled off, leaving behind nothing but the sour sweet smell of too much alcohol.

“Who was that?” Josh asked, pulling Mary into a tight hug.

“No one,” Mary said, truly meaning it.

This short story was inspired by the daily prompt – third rate romance


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