Veronica, raven haired butte in latex aerobic gear, had bought concert tickets for tonight and hinted at a surprise for me. Tonight’s concert was an opportunity to get close to a celebrity and sell my dream. My dream, to market my designer potty, a replica of Henry VIII potty throne and I needed endorsement. Then I’ll earn money to escape the Iron Maid aka Veronica.
Living with a wrestler used to be fun, come home and be tackled to the bedroom. Disagreements were resolved with an arm wrestle. This later evolved to my face pinned down, choking on carpet fibers, limbs contorted to cause excruciating pain until I conceded. I never win.Now my body was singing anticipating tonight.and my subsequent freedom.
** *** ** ***
“Give me your mobile we’ll take a selfie outside the concert hall,” she pulls out my phone; she snaps a few shots and views them while I eye for a dubious security guard to grease his palm.
“You guessed, we’re in tune,” she bursts out.
“The baby throne.” she points at my mobile screen,”For our baby. I knew you be as thrilled as me. I love it, thank you.” She always wins.
Henry VIII throne, Dover Castle UK
Thank you to Al Forbes for our photo prompt this week and for hosting, Sunday Photo Fiction. He gives us a photo prompt and approximately 200 words with which we write our story with. It’s fun and addicting and everyone is invited to participate.