Bridge Club

by Pil Lee

They decided it would be best to lock Hugo up for the night.

“Fuck a duck,” said Mrs Travers.

Mr Travers, who had experience in these things, nodded in agreement.

Carmel puffed and pulled with all her might, wishing her next door neighbors would shut up and just push.

“We have to get him upstairs before everyone else arrives,” she reminded them.

Mrs Travers put down her handbag and put her tiny old shoulder to Hugo’s back. Mr Travers braced his gammy leg by the edge of the sofa and put both hands on either side of his wife.

“We’re ready,” he said.

“OK everyone,” said Carmel.“One two three.”

Straining and slipping along the floor they moved Hugo about five feet towards the foot of the stairs.

Carmel stopped to let them rest for just a second, when the most horrendous smell imaginable filled the room wih lightning speed. Mr Travers immediately lost his balance and fell on his side, and Mrs Travers threw her hands over her head and started to cry.

“Oh Mrs Travers, I’m so sorry. I warned it would be bad,” said Carmel, trying to calm her down and still pull Hugo along further. “The vet said he’d be a bit flatulent until the sedative wore off.”

“A bit flatulent,” said Mr Travers, shaking his head and trying to get back on his feet. “I think he misled you, my dear. I don’t think Dot is going to be able to handle that again.”

“Please Mr Travers, ” pleaded Carmel. “The Bridge Club is arriving any minute. At least up in the ensuite bathroom we can lock the door, and no-one will even know.”

“I think the smell might even travel down that far,” said Mr Travers.

“Not if we line the door with wet towels,” said Carmel. “I’ve got some soaking in the bath.”

“It’s not a fire”, said Mrs Travers, calming down. “I don’t know if wet towels is going to help, dear.”

“Well we’ve got to try at least,” said Carmel, trying to keep the impatience out of her voice.

“All right dear, we’ll give it another go,” said Mrs Travers, “But I think maybe you could be the one who pushes from behind this time!”