The Trial

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The Trial appeared in the April 3, 2011 edition of the Ezine, The Ink Bean.

   

                                                                       

  The Trial

by

George R. Lasher

word count: 500

     
                                                                           
“George, have you got your wallet?” She asked.
        “I do,” I replied. Standing at the front door, ready to set the security alarm, I braced myself for what was coming. This was her sacred, "getting ready to leave," checklist; a habit formed over the course of our thirty-eight married years.
        “Ring?” she asked.
        “Yes, Becky.” Annoyance replaced resignation. Once, just once, it would be so nice if she would...
        “Cell Phone?”
        Sure that I had it, I reached into the right pants pocket of my Halloween costume. Instantly a mixture of surprise and distress surfaced as my fingers failed to locate the lump of circuit-filled plastic that should have been cradled against my hip. 
        “Cell Phone?” From the bedroom, where she stood in front of the mirror adjusting the tilting halo on the angel costume she rented for the evening, her voice escalated slightly. Like hounds on a foxhunt beginning to bay at the scent and nearness of their quarry, she sensed by my silence that she was on to something. She would repeat the question until I provided one of only two answers she would deem acceptable: contrite admission of my error - tantamount to agreeing with her inferences that I was sliding headfirst into the gaping abyss of slobbering senility, or affirmation of the fact that I did have my cell phone and still retained a portion of my mental faculties.
        Cursing my blunder, I returned to where the phone sat, gazing up at me from its charger. I begged it to loosen without producing the incriminating click and beep that would broadcast the news of my forgetfulness. It might as well have been a bomb going off. The sound reverberated throughout our quiet home, alerting the authorities of my attempted crime in progress.
        From our bedroom came the question I dreaded like the inevitable twinge of pain from a syringe held aloft by the dentist, “You didn’t have it, did you?”
        Crestfallen, I mumbled, “I could’ve sworn ...”
        “But you didn’t, did you? Hmmmm?” Rivaling the tension in a well written and directed TV courtroom scene with my angel presiding as the judge, jury, and prosecuting attorney, silence hung in the air at the end of that melodious, expectant “Hmmmm?” which began low and rose slowly, in unison with her arching eyebrows, drawn out for dramatic effect. “Well, did you?” she asked again, as the unsympathetic cameras zoomed in on the tortured face of the defendant. The commercial break would be delayed so as not to miss this repeat offender’s reply.
        “No.” I hung my head in shame.
        While women cheered, men around the world groaned, shaking their heads in despair.
        As TV sets across America were turned off and the courtroom emptied, my spouse resumed her last minute costume adjustments.
        I shook my mask and resolved never again to disappoint my male cohorts.
        "Keys?” She asked.
        Oh God, no! Where were they?                                           

The End.

If you enjoyed The Trial, may I recommend dessert?

"Mom's Chocolate Cake"  (E) Find out why Mom's cake tastes better than anyone else's, in this slice-of-cake vignette. #1467766 by George R. Lasher

I hope you will take a look at my recently published novel, The Falcon and His Desert Rose, from World Castle Publishing.
http://www.worldcastlepublishing.com/georgerlasher.htm

I always appreciate hearing from readers. Feel free to comment or ask questions regarding anything you see. Come check me out on Facebook. http://www.facebook.com/album.php?id=1625773285&aid=36414