A Common Phobia

A Common Phobia
by Horace James

The bedroom door opened.

Jay pulled the help-wanted section from the paper and spread it on the kitchen counter. Beneath pages of jobs, lost dogs and used cars was his fresh copy of “Boobs Gone Wild 3: Junior Prom Confidential.”

“Morning!”

“Morning.”

Dee poured herself a cup of non-dairy creamer with a little coffee, then came and nuzzle-pecked his cheek.

“So. What’s on the job-hunt agenda today?”

He looked at the job listings and wondered if this was how it felt to have a girl chained up in the basement.

“Morning, hon! I’m going to follow up on yesterday’s interview. Definitely!” Her wrist entered his view, and he fumbled with her bracelet’s tiny clasp. “First thing.”

“And?”

“And… make some more calls? There’s a couple of fresh ads in the paper.”

She turned, sighed and waited for him to zip her. “You told me you’d call Larry Azaradis a week ago.”

He watched the zipper devour the long, fair wedge of skin and thought about that blond on page 73.

“Sure, Larry’s numero uno on the list, but thanks for the reminder.” He was almost positive that Larry — whatsizname? Assradish? — was still on vacation. Or at a conference. Or something; dead, maybe.

“Please. Call him. Larry’s connected.”

“I know, honey. I know.” Connected. He made a mental note to check the connector on his Xbox controller. It had compromised his score “Urban Vigilante 5.”

“Make my lunch?”

“Yup! Turkey sandwich. By your briefcase.”

“Okay. I need to go. Love you.” She sighed and bestowed his cheek with a dry peck.

“Love you too!”

He counted her clacky steps as she walked toward the back door.

Even when he expected it, her scream still made him wince.

She clacked back to the kitchen, her face pale, her mouth twisted with terror.

“What’s wrong, babe? Was it… a roach?”

She leaned against the wall, hyperventilating, finger and thumb spread to the intruder’s size: two inches, minimum.

He gave her a reassuring hug, patted her cheek and marched forth to battle with the intruder.

Hidden from view, he swatted an empty piece of floor with his shoe. Then he carefully lifted the long-dead roach carcass by its hind leg and gently returned it to the little wooden box he kept in his pocket.

Fortunately, she never noticed the missing antenna.

© Horace James 2008