Blank Slate

a man wakes up in a strange surrounding and finds a strange woman in the house.

BLANK SLATE

The persistent ringing felt like somebody was holding a drill to my eardrum. My nerves were jangled when I finally opened my eyes. I should’ve taken the phone off the blasted hook before going to bed the previous night. 

I flipped the bedside lamp on and turned to my wife’s side of the bed. It was empty. Where, in God’s name, was she at this time of the night? And then it hit me. I was not married. For a moment, I didn’t know where I was, then I lifted the covers and there I was, hairy balls and all. I swung my feet out of the bed. Right side. It wouldn’t do to get out of bed on the wrong side. I know. I learned it the hard way. I slipped my feet in the flip flops (to be honest, I have slippers, but I thought you wouldn’t appreciate “slipped my feet in the slippers”) and got up. What was I doing out of bed, in my imaginary flip flops, in the middle of the night? And then I remembered the phone. Only now, there was no ringing. The night was dead silent. Had I dreamt it or had the caller quit, realizing he had the wrong number? And then it hit me. (I took some beating, that night, I can tell you). I didn’t have a phone. I shook my head. I had to be dreaming. It does happen sometimes. You think you’ve woken up but are in fact still cocooned in bed, between your wife’s arms and, let’s not be squeamish, legs. If you are married, that is. 

I slowly lowered myself onto the bed and put my head in my hands. Something didn’t feel quite right. It must be that time of month, I thought. I jerked up, eyes wide open. What was I talking about? I was not a woman. There’s no right or wrong time of month. Still, I had to make sure. I gingerly put my hand to my crotch and, sure enough, there was my.. errr.. thingy and its two companions, reassuringly weighty. My mouth felt as dry as the Mojave Desert. I had to get a glass of water. 

I shuffled to the kitchen, light-headed. As I reached out to turn the door handle, I noticed a sliver of light under the door. Funny, I always made sure to turn off all the lights before turning in. then I heard a woman’s voice thinly veiled by the flimsy door. Though I knew for certain that it was a cliché, my heart skipped a beat. 

It sounded like a one-sided conversation. I put my ear to the door.

“I know Mum.”

Silence.

“Some days he seems to be doing OK.”

Silence.

“Don’t worry. I’m holding on.”

Silence.

“Dr. Seyn says his memory will eventually come back.”

I finally pushed the door open. A middle aged woman, blonde, blue eyes, a pert mouth, was sitting at my kitchen table, holding a phone I haven’t got. She looked as startled as I felt.

“Who are you? What are you doing in my house?” I asked her.

She hurriedly put the phone back on its cradle and stood up. Worry etched her pretty features.

“Honey, have I woken you up? Was it the phone?”

 

Now I’d like to stop here for a minute, if I may and clarify something. I can almost hear you, you smart ones, from where I’m sitting right here on the.. errr.. comfy chair, let’s say. Many will be thinking “Oh, I’ve seen this in a movie with whatshisface.” Others will be thinking “I know the movie with that lady with the big knockers”. Smart Alecs will be ticking off possibilities on their fingers, thinking: one, he’s been in an accident; two, he was drugged; three, he’s just come out of a coma or else he’s an old fart with Alzheimer’s disease. Well, let me put your little minds at rest. It’s none of the above. So, what is it, then, I hear you ask with mild irritation and a hint of impatience in your voice. Well, I’ll be damned if I know. The only certain thing is that one night, I woke up in a strange surrounding and found a stranger in the house who pretended to be my wife. But though my thoughts are muddled, I must keep up the pretense that my memory’s slowly coming back. Now, when the hell’s Dr Knotso Seyn doing his round, today? I have to ask him to loosen this damn suit a little. Bloody chafing, it is.

 

Author's Note

been away so long! I missed you guys and your wonderful writings. well, I guess I'm back. just a start though. don't know how good this is.
I have one regret. Marie, my number one reviewer, is not around today. May she rest in peace!

Reviews

[Jacob Clifford]

This is a very gripping story. It has very well-integrated humor and genuine mystique.

[Taylor]

This is pitch perfect, Woody. I don't know whether to laugh or cry!

[Woody]

sweet of you to say so Taylor. it is a strange write for sure.
thanks heaps for stopping to read :)

[alanwgraham]

I didn't really know where this was leading but it gripped me right through and i enjoyed the humour. I once went AWOL myself for a few weeks so i can identify! Well done and i will be reading more!
Cheers,
Alan

[Woody]

yeah I guess you've picked one of the looniest, alan. sorry to hear you've suffered something similar. thank you very much for the visit.
nice headwear by the way

[Jimmy Yetts]

Your work is always original, Woody--filled with delightful surprises.
Enjoyed the read!

Nice that you're back. I, too, feel very badly about Marie; she was a gifted writer.

[Woody]

she sure was. and a woman with a big heart. I truly miss her.
thank you Jimmy. always such a pleasure that you like my loony stories.

[Solar]

Wow! Method in the madness - as the plot unravels.

your short stories are such gems.

[Woody]

haha you're too kind Solar. so glad you enjoyed this not-so-orthodox write.

[Great Aunt Astri]

Clever and witty. Try putting the straitjacket on Dr Knotso Seyn!

[Woody]

haha thank you Aunty; the good old doctor would go berserk, I'm sure. I don't know if you'll agree but psychiatrists are often weird, to say the least.

[Terpsichore]

This had me guessing right until the end Woody. Not just funny, but clever as well.

Thoroughly enjoyed, and may I say, nice to see your smiling mug again. T

[Woody]

thanks heaps Terps. nice to be back and, may I say, nice to see that tree with the bare limbs again :)

[Samuel Dickens]

Oh, boy, this reminded me of when I was a sot and would wake up in strange houses with strange women. Number one priority--check on your equipment. It's good to see you're still the same Woody we all know and love.

[Woody]

haha and I sure as hell missed the good ones here. it's such a pleasure to behold that white beard again.
I realise I have some catching up to do. so I'll get down to it. I told my secretary to cancel all my appointments so I can do some reviewing.

[Beccy]

Oh Woody! Welcome back; and what a grand tale this is. Doctor Knotso Seyn indeed! Mind you, the perfect name for a doctor in a sanatorium. :-)

[Woody]

thanks a bunch, Beccy. I hope this is it. I'm back. I'll heve to try and finish the half dozen stories that have been gathering moss in the unfinised-business file.