Flash Fiction Challenge – Remote Control Mechanism

I do not do as many challenges as I would like but Jess at WOAW does some and I sometimes feel inspired. So as I am still distracted by the all consuming thing, I thought a bit of fiction was a good way to post and get lost for a while.

Anyway this challenge is Flash Fiction from the blog terrible minds, for this challenge they provided two columns of words. The challenge is to pick a word from column one, then pick a word from column two, and that’s your title for a 1000 word post.

I used an online random number generator, got given 3 and 2 and therefore the title Remote Control Mechanism. Enjoy

Talk about stressful, I mean how difficult can it be to do a bit of tidying and vacuuming, yet here I am two broken nails and enough scuffs to my wrist to make it look like I was attacked by a kitten. To top it off the music has finished playing, that’s how long it’s taking me, I don’t think I’m the only one who likes to do cleaning to music, it makes those little shimmy steps and twirls seem a little more appropriate between dusting. Although if the music hadn’t of stopped playing I never would have heard the front door slam, every cloud. You see usually I’m long gone by the time the customer gets home, I think they find it embarrassing enough to know that they sometimes forget to scrub the toilet or pick up yesterday’s  underwear without actually having to face you afterwards. Everyone I know who has a cleaner does a pre cleaner clean (so don’t deny it.)

Anyway, the 10 seconds it took for him to walk from the front door and into the lounge was just long enough for me to climb down from the sofa where I had moments before had my derriere in the air and my hand rammed down the side of the arm and the cushion, to standing up straight, sweat from brow mopped and wayward hair swept behind my ears. I was however powerless to change the colour of the bright red cheeks I could feel burning away; initially from the fight I had appeared to have just lost to the ridiculously oversized and even more stubborn sofa and more presently from the god like guy who was now stood before me.

Shit, this never happens, I must be running late, that damn sofa! This customer 24 Town View, oh no I can’t even remember his name only his address, all my customers are just addresses to me, is the first customer who has ever come home early. I do all my work through an agency, I don’t meet customers beforehand I just get handed keys and a timetable for the day in the morning when I drop by the office and go where instructed.

I mean I had figured as much that a man lived in this house, for starters all the toilet seats are always up and it is usually some scantily clad women who grace the magazines despite the publishers best efforts to throw in some cars for good measure which allows it to be passed off as a motoring magazine, well they are not fooling me from their cover and naff title ‘Cars: The bigger the better’ seriously what a load of, oh sorry I’m distracted from the matter in hand, god like male stood 5ft away from me whilst I couldn’t look any less goddess like unless I took off my ‘Domestic Goddesses’ branded tabard which might otherwise give the wrong impression. Please world, open up and swallow me whole. The last time I was this hot and sweaty and in the company of a male, not even a hot one just a scruffy farmer type, was when my not so faithful dog Pixie did a runner on me across up hill fields. Although I was that relieved when I reached the top that good ol’ farmer Giles had had her safe that I hugged him anyway despite my appearance and if I’m honest aroma of having just finished an Ironman contest.

‘I’m sorry, I just need to gather my stuff and I’ll be going, I must have let the time runaway from me, sorry, I really am.’ I say as quickly as I can before he booms at me about daring to be in his house still. ‘Not a problem, but you look like you could do with a cold drink before you dash off, hang on I’ll be back in a sec.’ He says without the slightest hint of a boom, before I can protest he has already left the room. I quickly gather my bits and tidy them into my carry box and for good measure quickly whip off my tabard which I’m certain adds 20 years to me, I mean seriously I haven’t seen anyone else where a tabard since my dinner ladies at school, practical though my Mum said, will keep your clothes clean without making you too hot, she was right, although the overall effect didn’t give me much street cred.

Danny, that’s it, I remember from the mail on the mat now, walks back in holding two glasses of what looks like cloudy lemonade, there is no way I can refuse this offer, I am hot and bothered and in dire need of what he hands me. It feels like I am downing what I correctly suspected was in the glass however I hope it is a more elegant sip, I’m not sure, either way I need this cold liquid and I already feel a little less flustered than when he first walked in.

I am suddenly very aware that he appears to be staring, no more like gazing right at me, surely he can’t find me attractive, before the flush I feel start at the bottom of my face even has a chance to make it half way up the rest of my face he asks ‘Did you know you’ve lost an earring?’ I nearly choke on the fizzy stuff as it’s halfway down my throat and seemingly scream at him ‘Yes under your bloody sofa as it happens’ ‘I’ll help you look’ he says calmly and ignoring my woman scorned outburst.

With that he walks over to the coffee table picks up a remote and pushes a button for the sofa to recline into the perfect position which I had been seeking for the last 15 minutes. How could I have been so stupid, I was never going to prise the foot rest up while it had a remote control mechanism.

 

 

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