Tracy decided to do something special for his wife. It was.
|Dressed in a leotard, Tracy adjusted the ladder, then ascended toward Carrie’s window. He chuckled to himself, thinking of how corny and romantic this was. He even put a few pebbles in his pocket to throw against the window pane. Halfway up he thought, I must be crazy. Forty years old and trying to reinvigorate that old feeling. Carrie, you'd better appreciate this.
The ladder creaked as Tracy took each step, then it started to shift. Tracy tried to offset it by throwing his weight in the opposite direction. He was successful – but too much so – as the top of the ladder hit the window frame. With all of his weight in that direction he fell right into the bramble bush. The sharp thorns tore at his arms while his butt landed on the main trunk.
He let out a howl of pain. In a fog of disorientation, tears crawled down his cheeks and he rolled out of the bush. Thorns embedded in his derriere, and blood-letting lacerations on his arms, he pricked out a few thorns.
After picking out a few more, he decided he’d try once more. He tested the base and climbed to the top then peered in the window. He could see his wife’s hourglass figure, and grabbed a handful of pebbles.
“Halt, you pervert! Get down off that ladder nice and slow.” The policeman trained his handgun on him.
“But I live here.”
“Until I see a little proof, you’ll be doing exactly what I say.”
“All right. This isn’t how it looks.”
The window slid open and a broom handle whacked him upside the head. He tumbled back into the bramble bush.
“Happy anniversary, Dear,” he said weakly.
Carrie looked down on her husband. “You could have just taken me to the movies.”
Flash Story Must contain: Ladder, Fog, Hourglass