Boris The Terrible

I walked through the front door with a face like a slapped ass and was enough to make my husband recoil from me as his nose picked up on the malodorous olfactory presence I’d brought into the house with me.

“It was Boris,” I replied, shrugging off my coat, nodding gratefully when Colin took it and hung it up. Those three words were loaded with meaning. Colin simply nodded, moving toward me before thinking better of it.

“Is there anything I can do?” Colin asked me timidly, knowing full well that I was primed and ready to explode at any given moment. Boris would be the end of me – I could sense it.

It was Colin’s fault that we had to deal with Boris in the first place. What kind of stupid man would agree to take on such a stinking beast?

I knew why. It was because lily-livered little Colin was scared of his boss.

If Mr Parkin told him to jump, Colin would ask him how high and whether he’d also like cream and sugar in his coffee. Colin was a sycophant when it came to his boss and would rather risk the wrath of his wife than disappointing the jumped up, bespectacled asswipe who paid his wages.

“Run me a bath,” I told him with ice in my voice. The glare I gave him leaving him in no doubt that I was angry with him.

Colin nodded his head quickly. “Of course, my dear. Let me go and do that for you.” He ran upstairs quicker than a cop at a donut shop, no doubt eager to avoid me as much as possible until I’d calmed down.

I threw my purse on the side as I entered the kitchen, a deep sigh leaving my body as I realised the sticky residue had found its way onto my beautiful cashmere sweater that I’d bought only last week.

I’d make it clear to Colin that I expected him to buy me another sweater and to punish his foolishness I would make sure that it was twice as expensive as the one that Boris had ruined.

The thought of Boris set my teeth on edge. He might have been one of God’s creatures, but the damn thing stunk worse than a cesspit. Sure, he was all fur and large soulful eyes, but beneath that exterior lurked a beast if his odour was anything go by.

I felt a throbbing in one of the fingers on my left hand and looked at it with disinterest until I noticed that it was bleeding.

Boris had bit me!

I could hear the water running in the bathroom upstairs and felt a momentary twinge of guilt. I shook the thought away, knowing that I did what I had to. Colin would find a way of explaining it to his boss.

That bastard of a hamster had peed on me and then bit me.

My hand slipped.

It fell.

I trod on it.


Written in response to Thain in Vain’s Week 44 prompt: “You smell terrible. What happened?”





Filed under Flash Fiction 52 Challenge

9 responses to “Boris The Terrible

  1. What a fun story! And oppps, poor, stinky Boris! I once took care of a friend’s two birds — it was the worst. They were noisy, smelling, and bloody messy. I was glad to see the back of their feathered heads when then went home. Nice work! TiV

  2. Pingback: Flash Fiction Challenge – Week 44 Submissions | Thain in Vain

  3. The wheel in the cager keeps on turning, Heather B. 🙂

  4. A hamster. Ugh. Peeing on cashmere? Settling accounts with the nasty little critter was a good day’s work by your protagonist! 😉

    Seriously, made me laugh. Good job!

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