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Her Worse Nightmare

Story ID:7336
Written by:Michael Timothy Smith (bio, link, contact, other stories)
Story type:Fiction
Location:Caldwell Idaho USA
Year:2011
Person:Madge
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I just finished my entry for the Writers Weekly
24-Hour short story contest.

They sent me the subject and required word count
yesterday. I had 24 hours to write and submit my
entry.

They like a surprise ending and something that is
different from what anyone else will think of.
I believe I did that in this piece.

Here's what they sent me. My entry is below that.

> Strong waves pounded the dark sand just a few yards away.
> Hidden by beach grass, they embraced, relieved to finally
> escape their wedding guests. His poetic whispers suddenly
> ceased as he leaned back, and said, "There's something I
> need to tell you..."
>
> ~~~~~
>
> WORD COUNT: Stories for today's topic must not exceed 875
> words. (Your story's title is *not* included in the word
> count. We use MSWord's word count function to determine the
> final word count for submissions.)



Here's my entry. It's totally different from my other stuff.

Her Worse Nightmare


Madge’s brothers kicked each other under the table. “Stop it, Brad!” Mark
whined.

“You started it!” Brad half frowned and half laughed.

“Did not!” Mark retorted.

“Enough!” Mother cut in. “We don’t fight while eating!”

Madge rolled her eyes. “Boys are such pigs.” Madge was only eleven – old
enough to dream of her prince. He wouldn’t be like these two. He’d sit quietly at a dinner
and make her proud.

At sixteen, Madge sat in her school cafeteria to eat her lunch. Her breasts were
still developing – far behind the other girls. Those who had them flaunted them. The boys
loved it. They stared, drooled and thought things Madge could only guess.

I’m a nice girl!” she thought. “I know I’d make a good wife. Why do they ignore
me?”

Beside her, Fred leaned to one side and farted. The group at the table burst into
laughter. Madge picked up her tray and moved to another table. The other kids laughed
at her. “Madge is a stinker!”

Madge graduated high school and entered college. “Surely I’ll find a refined man
here.” She was wrong. It was worse. The college boys drank. With alcohol in them, they
were even more pig-like. They giggled like girls at the slightest things while they drank
cheap beer and scratched their balls.

She was now well developed and caught the eye of most men, but none of them
interested her. They were too immature.

In her senior year, she studied in the library for her final exam. “Excuse me, is
this seat taken?”

Madge looked up and caught her breath. The young man stood at her table with a
smile of perfect teeth. He was beautiful. “Yes …I mean, no. No one is sitting there.”

“Thanks.” He held out his hand. “Tom.” he said.

She hesitated, then took his hand. “Madge.” His hand was soft and warm in hers.

“Nice to meet you, Madge.” His smile was infectious.

“And you.” She smiled back.

“Finals?” he asked.

She hoped he wouldn’t talk much. “Yes …psychology.”

“Engineering for me.” Tom said. “My finals are tomorrow.”

“Mine too.” Will he just shut up and let her work.

“I’m sorry.” Tom said. “You’re working and I’m bothering you.”

“Thank you, Tom. I appreciate that.”

Was this man for real? He seemed so well mannered compared to most guys she
met.

Madge and Tom studied in silence, but Madge couldn’t help but look up and
secretly stare at Tom’s handsome face, when she was sure he wouldn’t notice.

Madge closed her book. Tom looked up. “Finished?”

“I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Madge?” Tom seemed nervous.

“Yes?”

“Finishing our finals would be a good time to celebrate. I know I just met you,
but would you like to have dinner and maybe a glass of wine to celebrate?”

A glass of wine? “Yes. Dinner and a glass of wine would be perfect.”

Tom’s face lit in a smile. They exchanged numbers. “I’ll call you tomorrow.” he
said.

After exams, Tom called. “Are you ready to celebrate?”

“I’m looking forward to it.” Madge smiled into the phone.

“How does Michael’s on 5th sound?”

“Michael’s? Isn’t that a little pricey?”

“My treat.”

“Are you sure?”

“Of course. A special place for a special lady. Can I pick you up at 6?”

“Well, OK. It’s a date?”

“A date it is.”

They hung up. Madge stared at her phone. Could he be for real?

Their dinner and wine was perfect. Tom was a true gentleman. He opened the
car door for her, pulled out her chair at the restaurant, ordered a perfect wine to go
with their veal and was polite to the waiter.

Madge fell in love.

Both Tom and Madge found jobs in their respective careers and saw each other
whenever they could.

One thing puzzled Madge. Often, when they were together, Tom politely
excused himself, left the room, to either go outside or into another room and return
with a satisfied smile on his face. At first she thought he was sneaking out for a
cigarette, but when he kissed her, she didn’t smell or taste tobacco.

He showed no signs of drugs. She put it out of her mind. Tom was perfect.

One evening, while dining at Michael’s, Tom handed Madge a diamond
ring. “Will you marry me, Madge? I can’t imagine my life without you.”

With tears rolling down her cheeks, Madge said, “Yes.”

They married two months later at his parent’s beach-front home. As always,
Tom was the perfect gentleman, He even wrote his own vows.

Strong waves pounded the dark sand just a few yards away. Hidden by beach
grass, they embraced, relieved to finally escape their wedding guests. His poetic
whispers suddenly ceased as he leaned back, and said, "There's something I
need to tell you..."

“I’m so in love right now.” Madge said. “Say anything.”

“Well, now that we’re married, I can finally fart.” With that said, he leaned
over and released a blast that sent grains of sand tumbling away from his rear
and caused two gulls to burst into a rare midnight flight. A nauseous cloud of
vapor floated toward Madge. She gagged. It was her worse nightmare.

Michael T. Smith