Winifred wanted to leave the cosy townhouse that she shared with Dick Turnip, her cat of fourteen years but since her drinking and gambling husband died leaving her financially compromised, her ability to move on from her current situation seemed unlikely. Doug died a month before the September earthquake and she had tried to make full use of that intervening time. The quiet of that month ending when her house bounced around like her favourite orange jelly. Win wanted to leave but settlement would only occur if both units received substantial damage and every one of the thousands of aftershocks had failed to bring it to resolution.
Neighbourly relations with Gillian had never been great and complaints regarding Winifred’s 1992 Nissan dropping oil on the driveway, Dick Turnip’s fascination with her potty-mouthed parrot or even the airing of her laundry on a rack outside clearly irked Gillian.
Gillian’s freshly- groomed metallic blue Mercedes glistened in the sun and stood as the monument to their divide. The air seemed dense and the parrot squawked uncontrollably as the rumble arose from seemingly everywhere and the ground bucked and charged beneath her. The air-conditioning unit snapped from the wall and fell squarely onto the freshly washed bonnet of the Mercedes while the brick fence at the rear of the ninety-thousand-dollar vehicle took care of its windows and made ribbons of the leather seats. As if in slow motion the fracture at the base of Win’s house ran across the length of the joined units and moved up. A solitary brick spat out from its surroundings and knocked the bird cage over scratching the side of the Mercedes in a wild arc releasing the squawking parrot into the dust clouds.
For the first time in a long time, a smile appeared on Win’s face.
Andrew Hawkey
Neighbourly relations with Gillian had never been great and complaints regarding Winifred’s 1992 Nissan dropping oil on the driveway, Dick Turnip’s fascination with her potty-mouthed parrot or even the airing of her laundry on a rack outside clearly irked Gillian.
Gillian’s freshly- groomed metallic blue Mercedes glistened in the sun and stood as the monument to their divide. The air seemed dense and the parrot squawked uncontrollably as the rumble arose from seemingly everywhere and the ground bucked and charged beneath her. The air-conditioning unit snapped from the wall and fell squarely onto the freshly washed bonnet of the Mercedes while the brick fence at the rear of the ninety-thousand-dollar vehicle took care of its windows and made ribbons of the leather seats. As if in slow motion the fracture at the base of Win’s house ran across the length of the joined units and moved up. A solitary brick spat out from its surroundings and knocked the bird cage over scratching the side of the Mercedes in a wild arc releasing the squawking parrot into the dust clouds.
For the first time in a long time, a smile appeared on Win’s face.
Andrew Hawkey
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