‘BOGOF’ at Flash Flood

One of 200 short (<500 word) pieces published throughout the day on National Flash Fiction Day, 6th June.

BOGOF

Buy this, and your skin will glow. Its surreal luminosity will render you irresistible to a designer-stubbled warrior with muscles sculpted in the gym.

Your eyes will meet across a dancefloor packed with lithe bodies, marginally less gorgeous than your own. Your every pose together will be a flawless still.1
Your coupling will be free from bodily fluids or grunts or the schloop of a withdrawn penis.
In due course an infant will arrive, perfect, without blood or vernix. Your consort will remove his shirt and cuddle the infant to his broad ripped chest, thus revealing his New Man sensitivity. You will regain your figure swiftly, with the aid of a macrobiotic diet, exercise regime, and specially formulated multivitamins. 2
Your son will grow tall, brushing his large teeth three times a day with whitening toothpaste. His father will teach him to drive fast cars, to hunt, and to scent weakness.3
Once your fortune-favoured offspring has left home to commence his brilliant future 4 the two of you, still in love and without an ounce of fat or an eyebag between you, will set sail on the luxury cruiser Sunset Bliss to enjoy the fruits of your meaningful lives, and have vigorous sex for ever and ever. 5
Limited offer, one week only. Buy one, get one free.
1  After the wedding, after the eight-page feature titled True Life Cinderella Romance, you visit Dr K, cosmetic surgeon to the insanely rich. Dr K. says it’s never too early to start. You both agree.
2  The year your son turns five, your husband finds out about Emilio the personal trainer, and you discover that he subscribes to a service called Suck’n’Grind. The society pages ask, Golden Couple on the Rocks? Your husband puts limits on your credit cards, says if there’s a custody battle, he will win. He murmurs, Don’t worry, I’ll never let you go.
3  You find vodka works better than Emilio, Jon, or Sven. You don’t ask about your husband’s current distraction of choice. Your son sees Dr O, therapist to the stars, three times a week about his night terrors. Your husband says, We can fix this. You lie awake, listening for the screams.
4  Your son joins a commune in the Rockies, signing over his trust fund to its leader. WhatsApp images show him dreadlocked and beatific, standing in front of a turf-roofed cabin with his new tribe. His final message reads I love you both, but I’m through drinking poison. Your husband says you’re to blame, you always spoiled the kid. You agree.
5  Beside the infinity pool, your husband tops up your glass while he outlines a plan to have your son snatched and deprogrammed. You imagine shouldering a backpack, hitching rides all the way to the mountains, growing your hair wild and long. You yawn and say, Leave him, he’ll come to his senses eventually. A long moment later, your husband agrees
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pblog13

A writer, beachcomber and part-time campervan nomad, based in Brittany

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