Reality Check

Okay, just a little something I threw together as a writing exercise: a story using cliches; can it be done and still make sense? You decide.

* * *

“Gird your loins, babe, it’s déjà vu all over again.” Michael murmured to his buxom girlfriend, Mary, and glanced meaningfully towards the door of the Last Chance Saloon.

Mary affected to wipe her cheek on her shoulder and quickly looked at the door. There stood Brad, tall, broad and strong, eyes searching the subdued lighting in the pub.

“The bad penny always turns up.” She muttered, and then groaned as Brad spotted them. “Cat’s out of the bag, now.” She leaned into him. “Ah well, into every life a little rain must fall.”

Brad sauntered over and leaned on the wooden bar. “Milk of Human Kindness, please.” He asked the barkeep who nodded and began mixing the cocktail.

“So, small world. I guess the writing is on the wall.” Brad said, leaning sideways to address the couple.

“Draw your own conclusions, Brad.” Mary said with a toss of her blonde hair.

Brad shook his head. “It will all end in tears, you mark my words.”

The bartender placed Brad’s drink in front of him. He nodded to the man and picked it up, sipped the pale grey drink.

“Tears of joy, Brad. You’re just filled with sour grapes.” Mary sneered and lifted her own drink to her lips.

Brad laughed. “Oh, Mary, Mary, quite contrary. Call a spade a spade, I’m not here to put a spanner in the works, so keep your shirt on.”

“Oh? You’re the one dressed to kill. That outfit must have cost an arm and a leg.” She knew silk when she saw it and the midnight blue brought out Brad’s eyes beautifully. His jeans slicked across the muscles of his thighs, outlined everything.

Brad lifted a shoulder. “If you’ve got it, flaunt it and mutton dressed as lamb doesn’t appeal to me anymore.”

“Hey! Cheap shot!” Michael leaned forward. “You’re used goods, too, you know.”

Mary stared at both of them, insult burning her face.

“I’m not the snake in the grass. I’m more sinned against than sinning!” Brad leaned back with mock offence.

“So, the worm turns.” Mary said. “Now we see your true colours, and they’re not pretty.”

“I’m also not the dog in the manger.” Brad glared at her and Mary flushed. “At least I have the courage of my convictions. I haven’t been sneaking around.”

Mary refused to answer and Michael turned away, uncomfortable.

“Ah,” Brad murmured and lifted his finger for another drink. “Someone’s got cold feet. Someone’s digging their own grave.” He smirked.

“Falling on deaf ears, Brad. We’re peas in a pod now.” Michael said. “You don’t have a leg to stand on.”

“And so I’m left holding the baby.” Brad murmured and stared into his drink as if it had all the answers. “Left in the lurch. Washed up and strung out. Well, live and learn.”

“Brad.” Mary said and placed a hand on his arm. “Don’t toss the baby out with the bathwater. You’re one in a million. Cut your losses and move on. There are plenty of fish in the sea.”

“Once more into the breach, eh?”

“Get back on the horse.” She punched him lightly on his arm. “Go out there and win one for the Gipper.”

“Lightning never strikes twice, you know.” Brad said forlornly.

“Look on the bright side: nothing ventured, nothing gained.”

“I suppose a man’s got to do, what a man’s got to do. With maybe a little help from my friends?” Brad’s face brightened.

“All in a days work, for you.” Mary said with a smile. “You can take that to the bank.”

Brad gulped down his drink and then smiled at the couple. “I’ve got to go and see a man about a dog.” He said and slid off the stool. “Hold the fort.”

Michael and Mary watched him go.

“Well, knock me down with a feather,” Michael murmured, “you can teach an old dog new tricks. He took that better than expected.”

“Not to put to fine a point on it, he’s a brick short of a full load. Full of piss and vinegar, he’s just not showing it.” Mary replied. “Me thinks he doth protest too much.”

“It’s a done deal, Mary. We gave him a double whammy. It’s a final parting of the ways.”

Mary eyed him, doubt in her eyes. “I think he’s wolf in sheep’s clothing; that’s all. He’s always rubbed me the wrong way. Money can’t buy you happiness and Brad thinks money talks.”

“Look, I don’t believe he wants to rain on our parade, Mary. We’ve given him a raw deal. I’ll go and make him an offer he can’t refuse; he’ll be putty in my hands.”

Mary acquiesced. “All right. Read him the riot act.”

Michael slid off his stool.

“And Michael,” Mary called, “Don’t mince words!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll give him the message, loud and clear. The long and the short of it.” Michael grinned at her.

“It’s a recipe for disaster.” Mary muttered after she watched him push open the door marked ‘Gents’. “And he’d better draw the line.” She glanced up at the bar tender. “Another Sour Grape, please.”

She sipped the tangy green drink through a straw and waited for the men to return. “I’m at the end of my tether. I don’t know whether I’m coming or going with those two. Michael’s a man for all seasons and Brad is a flash in the pan.”

“It’s not over until the fat lady sings.” The bartender replied with a smile and she laughed.

“Yeah, all’s fair in love and war. Brad’s been living high on the hog for too long, he just can’t see the forest for the trees.” Mary stirred her drink with the pink umbrella. “Good men are far and few between, but with Michael, I’ve found Nirvana.”

“Uh, oh. You spoke too soon.” The bartender said and leaned towards Mary. “A word to the wise: next time don’t send the fox to guard the hen house.” The bartender patted Mary’s hand. “It’s a brave new world and it looks like Brad’s taken the Mick.”

Mary felt the blood drain from her face as she turned around. Brad and Michael were easing towards the front door, holding hands. “Oh, my God! Those chinless wonders! I knew I should have let sleeping dogs lie and now the tables have turned!” She pressed her hands to her face. “The last nail in the coffin. A rod for my own back.”

“Here, wet your whistle and take it like a man; you’re whiter than white.” The bartender said and made her a new drink. “The winds of change blow and with your track record,” he smiled when she lowered her hands, “as surely as night follows day, you’ll soon be in the pink. Gentlemen, after all, prefer blondes.”

Mary gave him a watery smile. “I feel like I’ve been put through the mangle.” She sighed, glanced at the door again. “The one that got away.” She sipped her drink. “Is this a Blaze of Glory?”

He shook his head. “Nah, but you’ll like it. It’s called a Reality Check.”

Copyright © Jaye Patrick 2007