DETERGENT

Written by Ben Tallon

Drun-du-dun-drun-du-dun-drun…

Sally froze near the sink.

Drun-du-dun-drun-du-dun-drun…

The rumble of horse hooves blared out of the TV in the next room and trampled over her scrambling mind. It squealed like a smashed snail.

Drun-du-dun-drun-du-dun-drun…

One minute and twenty seconds vanished this way.

Finally, she remembered why she had shuffled into the kitchen. Fistfuls of Stef's faded t-shirts were rammed into the hole, stained t-shirts which sagged hauntingly along the midriff where his tits had made hammocks.

Drun-du-dun-drun-du-dun-drun…

The horses entered the home straight and her husband, shouted something indecipherable.

 Faster now, she rammed in dresses and socks, bras and his limp, biodegrading underpants, now with more holes than fabric.

Her shaking hand slid off the neck of the laundry liquid and the cap came loose. It smacked the lino and a tide slimy detergent seeped under her socks.

She kicked it, caught the bottle sweet, screamed as it hit the wall under the breakfast bar. Stef barked that her racket had caused him to miss the commentary for a photo finish.

The decision on the winner would determine the mood of the rest of the evening. 

She could catch up on Strictly in the week when he was out.