Sunday, November 16, 2008

Mr. Dobbs


Fanned out by Charles Dana Gibson

In response to a Word Catalyst Prompt


Mr. Dobbs
(Gentleman on the Left in Picture)

Plump Mr. Dobbs wiggled his stubby fingers into empty pockets and sighed. After paying off Swenson, he'd have no money left, not even a nickle. Damn Yankees! They lost. Mr. Dobbs wasn't a pleasant individual to be around to begin with, constantly scowling, forever dressed in a wrinkled suit and tie, a battered straw hat shielding a balding head from the summer sun. When he lost a bet, people scattered from his path. His big lumbering body coming down the street, propelled by angry words sputtering, remained a force to be reckoned with. Today people ran away even faster.

Mrs. Dobbs was waiting for him in the living room, her arms folded across her chest, standing tall and determined, a closed suitcase set beside her.

"Well, I see the Yankees lost," she told him first thing.

"Hmmmph."

"And I suppose you bet the rent money on them again, is that not right, Alfred?"

He shot her an exhausted glance. "Yes, I bet the rent money...and yes, I lost it."

"I told you. I told you! If you lost the rent money again I was leaving. Do you remember?"

"Yes."

She studied him. "You really don't care, do you? You don't care if we have no roof over our heads, food in the fridge. All you care about is the next round of bets."

He didn't answer.

"I must be crazy to have stayed here this long. What was I thinking? I sold my mother's jewelry once because we were broke. Do you remember that, Alfred? Do you?"

Silence.

"Well, that's it! I'm out of here!" Mrs. Dobbs picked up the suitcase and pushed past her husband, slamming the door in her wake. Mr. Dobbs stood quietly and made no effort to chase after his wife. When the car pulled away, he let loose with a yawn. He headed for the den and his favorite overstuffed recliner, a nap foremost on his mind. What a surprise to find a brown leather handbag perched on the seat, opened, inviting, forgotten by Mrs. Dobbs. He reached in and his fist emerged with a wad of money. Fanning it, the fat man chuckled. Next pulling a newspaper out of one pocket and his cell out of another, Mr. Dobbs hit speed dial.

"Hello? Swenson? Put me down for $100 on Eye Candy in the ninth. Yeah, I got a few bucks. My wife gave it to me."


Copyright 2008 JO Janoski





6 comments:

  1. karen7:34 PM

    Ha! Somehow this story reminds me of a Jackie Gleason skit...not that I've ever watched a Jackie Gleason skit mind you, I'm way too young for that...I mean, I'm sure I just heard someone say that Jackie Gleason used to do skits where the husband would...

    never mind

    ; )

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  2. Good one Jo, especially loved your ending! How do ya like the snow?

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  3. A great story, Jo.

    I really never have seen a Jackie Gleason skit....Oops, I'm probably in trouble with Karen now--better go, I've got someplace to be. My wife's bellowing about not being able to find the grocery money or something! Damn Chicago Bears!

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  4. Karen and Dan, too young for The
    Great One? Snort!

    Jo, I love the snow! For now anyway...

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  5. Great story, Jo. Who is Jackie Gleason? Oh well, it was worth a try since Karen got away with it! BTW, we just got our first dusting of snow here in NE.

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  6. Nah, Shirley, I'm not buying that song and dance from you either! Sheesh!

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