Monday, 26 July 2010

Upside Up

single hand stand crossoverImage via Wikipedia

"What are you doing on the ceiling?" Judy gasped, slamming the door behind her. Stephen sputtered indignantly.

"What are you doing on the ceiling?"

Silenced, Judy crossed her arms and paced. To come home and find your husband splayed across the ceiling, ankles bound by silk scarves to the dangling ceiling lamps and gripping the curtain rail for dear life... Well! It was an ugly surprise. She glanced once before averting her eyes.

"This isn't funny Stephen," she told the floor. "What are you doing?"

"Everything's upside down," he mused. "Even you. I didn't think you would be."

"No it's not Stephen. It really isn't."

"It is. It is. I swear it is. I feel so much better on the ground. The ceiling made my stomach turn."

Judy lifted a hand to hide her face.

"Honey, please come down."

"I should ask the same. How are you still well?" His faint smile sent her hand for the phone.

"I'm not the one who's sick," she murmured, dialling then putting the phone to her ear. "...Hello? My husband's gone mad or had a stroke or something. He's currently hanging off the ceiling... Yes. 113 Clarrendon Road... OK, I'll try."

"I wonder why this happened..."

Judy quietly left the room and returned with a chair, left again and brought a box. She brought anything sturdy and stacked them underneath him. Under her breath she cursed as she built her shaky staircase.

"How did you get up there? Fly? Trust you to go insane before I do. Was it in spite?"

Stephen frowned.

"Innocence isn't exactly your strong point, babe. I know you’d do this on purpose."

"You really think I'm wrong? That I'm the upside down one?"

"Yes," Judy cried, climbing onto a small coffee table.

He shook his head. "Mad, woman. Pure insanity." She lifted her face towards his and smiled thinly.

Balancing on her tower of furniture she took hold of his wrists. "Come on Stephen. People are coming to help you. Please come down."

"Gladly, if that were down," he said, motioning with his nose and almost smacking heads.

"Stephen, come down," she growled, trying to wrench his fingers off the rail.

"No! No-no!" He squeezed his face up tight.

"I'm trying to help you," she argued, thumping his fingers as hard as she could.

"Ow!" He tried to shake her off his arms. "Get off!" He shook harder. In a moment his fingers slipped and in the next, Judy lay under a noisy pile of furniture and Sephen swung from the ceiling by his ankles.

And that was how the ambulance crew found them.

In the ambulance, Judy glared at Stephen as he struggled with two paramedics trying to climb to the roof of the vehicle.

"Definitely needs a CAT scan, this one," said the bulkier, who promptly received a hand pushed into his face.

"What about me?" Judy asked.

"It'll take a month or two for you to recover from your bruising and broken arm, but you'll be fine," a third paramedic said, watching the others wrestle with mild amusement.

"Oh! That's okay," she said looking pointedly in her husband's direction. "That’s just splendid."

Wrote this one a while ago, when I was utterly bored, to entertain myself. Almost threw it away. Probably needs some editing but I don't think it's worth it.
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