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Enterprise

EnterpriseGwen was just getting into the rhythm of her work when she heard a knock at the door. Grumbling to herself, she pulled her gloves and apron off and threw them on the table.

There was a large ship's bell beside the front door, but did people ring it? No. They stared at it, as if it was some kind of fascinating ornament, as they knocked instead.

Opening the door with a teeth-baring grin, she saw that her visitors were god-botherers. They didn't even have to open their mouths, their whole manner screamed "We are here to save your soul". Sensible shoes and a shared taste in 50s fashion reject frocks, didn't do much to disguise their purpose either.

Seeming totally oblivious to Gwen's expression, either they didn't see a lot of people wanting to throttle them or they had learned to ignore it, the pair launched into their spiel. What did Gwen think about the state of the world today?

Gwen assumed she was supposed to say that it was a horrible, scary place and she desperately needed to be inducted into whatever cult these people were pushing. She could have teased them a little, mentioned she was a practicing nudist or simply closed the door, but she didn't feel like playing those game today. Instead she launched into a rant about corporate monopolies controlling mindless world leaders who were in the pockets of fundamental religious lunatics, making sure to highlight that religious nut jobs were just as likely to be Christian or Jewish as they were Muslim.

The nice ladies on Gwen's doorstep smiled politely and continued trying to sell her their god. Happily derailing their train of conversation, Gwen turned the subject to domestic violence and hit them with the delightful irony of the local Catholic Church. Whenever her husband decided to use her as a punching bag, he toddled off to confession, was absolved of his sins, then came home to punish Gwen for whatever act of contrition he had been asked to carry out.

At least Gwen's visitors looked suitably horrified and urged her to call the authorities. For the first time since she opened the door, Gwen graced them with a genuine smile that lit her face. She thanked them for their time and bid them good day, insisting that she had the problem well in hand.

Seeing the women walk away wearing matching expressions of unease, Gwen grinned. It was nice that they were concerned for her wellbeing, but they needn't have worried, Gwen had taken care of that particular thorn in her side. She closed the door and returned to her task, after all, dead husbands didn't just dismember themselves.


15minuteficletsword #87: interrupted

Comments

( 9 howls — talk to the wolf )
willshenilshe
30th Dec, 2004 13:01 (UTC)
*applause* Got to say, that's one of the most effective ways ever heard of disposing of the trash. It's deliciously chilling, this story. Bravo!
redwolf
30th Dec, 2004 21:36 (UTC)
Thanks. It is nice than she finally stood up for herself.
(Deleted comment)
redwolf
30th Dec, 2004 21:37 (UTC)
I think she has it all in hand, although if you know a rose garden looking for fresh fertiliser, I'm sure she'd be appreciative.
(Deleted comment)
edenfalling
30th Dec, 2004 20:27 (UTC)
Eeek, scary woman! She has nerves of steel, to go answer the door and talk about her husband while she's dismembering him in the kitchen. That, or she's just totally snapped.

I can see it working either way.

Um, and she pulled her gloves and apron off and threw them on the table. Or tossed, laid, dumped... some verb, anyway.
redwolf
30th Dec, 2004 21:40 (UTC)
You must be a mind reader, it was supposed to be threw but it disappeared in editing.

I guess Gwen's husband learned the hard way that if you keep pushing a person, sometimes they reach a point where they push back.
irishvampire13
31st Dec, 2004 02:01 (UTC)
For once, the chill factor's been tempered somewhat. It's always nice to see an ass like her husband get what he deserves. Great job!
redwolf
31st Dec, 2004 02:08 (UTC)
I guess that's just because you can sympathise with this character that it isn't as creepy. Happy you enjoyed.
( 9 howls — talk to the wolf )