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Compulsion
Everything
about this morning irritated Frankie Jardine.
The bitter cold wind, the crunching of the crisp
snow underfoot, and the boisterous screaming of
the children tossing snowballs at one another.
Not that Frankie loathed children; on the
contrary he wondered often how his annoying wife
June would have reacted if they were endowed
with children of their own. Perhaps then she
would appreciate him, not mock him on a daily
basis.
His gloved hands gripped the handles of the
wheelchair tightly as her irksome voice
penetrated his ears.
“Hurry up you useless limp-dicked good for
nothing. Coronation Street starts in five
minutes Francis.”
Every opportunity she got she would ridicule him
about his impotency and how he hated her for
calling him Francis. Frankie’s my name he had
related to her time and time again. Francis was
a name for a holy man and a holy man Frankie
certainly was not. Okay, granted he went to
church every Sunday but that was only because
the dragon insisted.
Frankie was a meek man by nature; his thinning
hair and gaunt features belonged to a man some
fifteen years older than his thirty-five years.
The many years of caring for his unappreciative
wife had taken their toll.
He was lying on a beach in an exotic location;
the sun scorching his skin as two gorgeous
topless girls fed him grapes. They giggled in
unison at the predicament of his loathsome wife,
buried up to her neck in sand, the crabs picking
at her withered scorched skin.
“Francis! Get me out of here immediately.
Jerry Springer starts in ten minutes.”
He laughed even louder as one of the crabs
plucked out one of her eyeballs amid the
screams.
“Another grape Frankie baby?”
“Yes please.”
“Faster you imbecile!”
Frankie resented her intrusion, pulling a face
behind her back as he quickened his pace. It had
not always been like this. Oh no, he had married
June some fifteen years ago and she resembled
one of those beach babes he so often daydreamed
about. Not any more. She was overweight and her
once bushy red hair was now greasy and lank. Her
once elfin features were no more, replaced with
a treble chin.
After her accident seven years ago he had no
choice but to give up his job at the steelworks.
Now that was a man’s job, but she had made him
what he is today, a hen-pecked feeble manservant
with a compulsion to murder his wife.
He was at her beck and call twenty-four hours a
day. He would bathe her, take her for a walk,
feed her and even carry her to the toilet. He
waited the day when she would ask him to wipe
her fat arse.
“Francis! This bloody soup is too hot. You
know it’s three minutes in the microwave you
seedless twat.”
“Yes dear, sorry dear.”
“What I pay you for I don’t know. A real man
would not live off his wife’s income.”
“But dear, it is because of you that I gave up
my job.”
“Shut up! Eastenders is about to begin and you
know what that means don’t you Francis?”
“Your cocoa, of course.”
He poured the boiling milk into the mug and his
eyes focused on the weed killer on the shelf. He
chuckled to himself as he read the warning on
the box.
“I hope you used fresh milk Francis?”
“Of course dear.”
He sat in his armchair and pretended to read the
newspaper. His heart raced as the battleaxe blew
on the cocoa.
“Go on; drink it you witch,” he whispered.
“Francis! This cocoa is bitter.”
“I’m sorry luv; I used fresh milk just like
you said.”
He watched as her eyes bulged, her hands
reaching for her throat. She turned her head
towards him and made choking noises. He kneeled
down in front of her and smiled manically; his
head nodding and said, “yes, I poisoned you. I
hope the weed killer’s to your liking.”
“What’re you doing you great oaf?”
Frankie stared into the eyes of his wife and his
glee was short lived.
“I’m straightening your pillow dear.”
“Get out of my way and make yourself useful:
run my bath.”
The annoying jingle, which meant Eastenders had
finished, reached him as he tested the bath
water with his elbow.
“Francis! Bath time.”
“Coming dear.”
She stubbed out her Silk Cut, ensuring she blew
the smoke into her husband’s face, something
Frankie resented. He was certain she purposely
held the smoke in her lungs until he reached out
to pick her up.
Frankie strained with her ever-increasing bulk.
He struggled up the staircase and entered the
steamed up bathroom. The contents of the bath
stimulated him; the dragon was in for a
surprise.
“The water Francis, it’s bubbling.”
He threw her with ease into the bath and heard
the scream as the sulphuric acid ate away at her
skin.
“Help me Francis, help me!”
He covered his mouth, as the stench of burning
flesh was overwhelming. Her body was dissolving
in front of his eyes; a thick layer of body fat
floated on the surface.
“You wanted to lose weight didn’t you
dear?”
Her bloated body sank further and further into
the depths of the acid and he laughed
hysterically as only her head was visible, the
eyes appearing to pop out of their sockets.
Further and further she sank until only her
dentures remained. He stepped back aghast as the
dentures opened and nagged, “Francis, open a
window; I’m so hot.”
His fantasy was short-lived as he heard the
words, “What are you laughing at? Scrub my
back.”
He did as he was told, his mind in turmoil. To
kill her for real was a fantasy he had long
considered. Whether he had the courage to go
through with the plot was another thing.
“Francis! My back.”
“Yes dear.”
He waited until he thought she was asleep
upstairs before changing the channel. He rubbed
his hands in anticipation as the free adult spot
was starting. The memories flooded back as he
watched a couple writhing on the bed. June had
once been a sex kitten, but that all changed
when she discovered he was shooting blanks. His
hand reached for his groin and then he heard
those immortal words.
“Francis! Are you watching that porn channel
again? Get your arse to bed limp dick.”
He reluctantly turned off the TV and ambled
slowly up the staircase.
“You pervert. Looking at those girls at your
age; you ought to be ashamed of yourself.”
“He climbed into bed his erection still
apparent. He felt so horny as he snuggled up to
June. He hesitantly put an arm around her and
there was no immediate reaction. He thrust his
groin against her enormous buttocks; he was so
desperate he would consider screwing his pillow
if all else failed; in fact the pillow had more
appeal than his wife did.
“What are you doing?”
“Come on June; it’s been so long.”
“Get that useless thing away from me! Now go
and have a cold shower do you hear me?”
“Yes luv. I just thought you...”
“Don’t think. Cold shower.”
After making her breakfast and doing the
housework Frankie wrapped up preparing to take
June for her daily jaunt to the park. His icy
breath was evidence of the freezing conditions
as he struggled to push the wheelchair across
the iced pavement.
“Watch the bloody road idiot.”
“Of course dear.”
The park was quiet; all sensible people were
still tucked up in bed at this early hour. The
usual crowd of children frolicked in the snow,
some of them daring to toss a snowball in the
direction of the woman in the wheelchair.
Frankie smiled as one of the missiles connected
with her midriff.
“Make them stop Francis, the little
bastards.”
“Can you please stop this?”
His words only stirred the children into a more
vicious onslaught. Frankie grinned wildly,
crouched behind the wheelchair, as some of the
snowballs homed in on their target
“Get me out of here Francis. I’m hurting so
much.”
He obeyed her instructions wishing the snowballs
were something more lethal like hand grenades
possibly.
“Run
Francis run!”
The children cheered loudly as Frankie ran the
gauntlet blindly, their onslaught unrelenting.
Faster and faster he sprinted, his numbed feet
slipping as he grasped the wheelchair. He fell
forward and watched with horror as the
wheelchair sped across the iced ground towards
the frozen pond.
“Frankieee!” She screamed.
“Frankie, she called me Frankie.”
The loud crack alerted the spectators and the
wheelchair came to a halt before sinking slowly
into the freezing depths of the pond. Her
flailing arms were all that was visible as she
attempted to grip the ice only for it to break
off.
The children sprinted past a startled Frankie,
as he could no longer see his wife. The thin ice
was cracking and the children’s progress was
halted as Frankie joined them.
“Sorry mister, we were only having a bit of
fun.”
“Of course you were.” Frankie did all he
could to stifle his grin.
“June luv, can you hear me?” He shouted
half-heartedly. He followed the children around
the edge of the pond and saw the unmistakable
shape of June beneath the ice, her eyes pleading
with him. He could not help but pull his tongue
out at her and mouth, “dragon!”
The children hammered at the ice with rocks
until it gave way and with Frankie’s help they
managed to drag her lifeless frozen body out of
the lake.
“Go on mister; give her mouth to mouth.”
Frankie’s instinct was to clip the boy around
the ear but he realised his actions would be
recorded. He put his mouth to hers and held his
breath, feigning his life-saving actions.
“It’s too late, she’s gone.”
He straightened up as one of the boys pushed on
her chest vigorously,
“You’re wasting your time son, she’s
gone.”
A loud wheeze startled Frankie and he gazed upon
the body fearing the worst. His prayers were
answered as he realised the offending gasp was
just air escaping; well she did have plenty of
it to spare. The ambulance arrived some ten
minutes later and she was pronounced dead.
A verdict of accidental death was recorded and
Frankie was free at last. After all of his evil
thoughts and wishes, an accident had ended her
life or had it? Only Frankie knows.
He lay beneath the palm tree and tasted the
delicious grape offered to him by the busty
bikini-clad girls. He heard the lapping of the
waves and his eyes were attracted to a dark
patch protruding from beneath the white sand.
“Francis, who are those floosies; they’re
much too young for you? Now go and fetch my
cocoa. Ow, chase these bastard crabs away will
you Francis?”
His manic loud laughter was out of place in this
paradise. Even in death he could not erase his
memories of June from his existence. |
