Writers Over The Edge: Pin-up Promotion

A humorous short by Tamela Buhrke about how far writers will go...

Blinded by a flash of light, Parker tripped and fell. His elbows smashed into the tile floor. After a moment of cursing, he sat up and removed a power strip from around his ankle. Why was there a power strip in the middle of the kitchen?

“My God, Parker, did you break anything?!” His wife shrieked.

She bound toward him. Naked. Why was Margaret naked? She fussed and pulled at his jacket, ripping it off to inspect him for breaks. As she rolled up his sleeves, he watched her breasts jiggle. He loved it when they jiggled. Oh! Was today Date Night? That might account for her naked status. He gave her his most winning smile and nuzzled her close.

She smacked him on the head.

“The photographer is here,” she hissed, pulling out of his embrace. “You bruised your elbows. You really should be more careful, darling.”

He started to say something but was distracted by her walk to the freezer. Lost in admiring her shapely bottom, he was startled by someone tapping his shoulder. A wiry young man gestured for the power strip. Parker handed it to him. Grabbing it, the man began plugging a mass of wires back into the strip. He nodded in the direction of Parker’s wife and gave a the thumbs up.

“Pretty hot old lady you have there,” the man whispered.

Parker was about to protest when the man flipped a switch. Light blinded him.

Just then, his wife jammed a bag of frozen vegetables onto each of his elbows and shoved a large rubber band down each arm to hold the bags in place. Pain ripped through his arms.

“Quit whining, it’s just a little arm hair!” His wife chirped, patting the rubber bands into place.

“What is all this?” He asked, rubbing his arms.

“My calendar, silly,” his wife answered, helping him up off the floor.

He vaguely remembered her getting excited over creating a calendar. He watched her saunter to the middle of the kitchen and drape herself across the kitchen island in a pose that both excited and appalled him.

“I was thinking about something like this for February?” She batted her eyes at him. “A little something to heat things up in the middle of winter.”

He cleared his throat. “What do you mean February... Oh, no! No! You are not doing a nude calendar to promote your ridiculous romance novels!”

She frowned at him, still in her sexy pose. “Really dear? But we talked about this. You loved my calendar idea. My sales are down. If I don’t get more promotion then my publisher won’t renew my contract.” She paused for effect. “Really, this is all because of you. You said a publicist was too expensive, so I had to come up with something.”

The publicist was too expensive. Parker rubbed his temples. Water dripped down the front of his shirt from the melting vegetable bags.

“Without my income, we’ll never afford that trip to Hawaii you planned,” she said, rolling off the island.

He did love golfing in Hawaii. His wife moved to pose in front of the stove, kicking one heel up and nibbling on a wooden spoon. That’s when he noticed her red high heels. She moved her hips suggestively and gestured to the photographer who started snapping pictures.

“But you are almost fifty!” Parker yelled.

Margaret raised one eyebrow. He took a step back, realizing his error.

“A really hot fifty!” Muttered the wiry photographer.

That was it. Parker marched over to the power cord and snapped the off button, then spun to face the photographer with his hand extended.

“Give me the film!”

“But it’s digital...”

“The card then, give me the blasted card!” He bellowed. The photographer nearly dropped the camera twice trying to get the card out. Parker ripped it from his hand and shook the card in his wife’s face.

“Hire the publicist! No calendar!”

He marched triumphantly toward the stairs. As he turned he caught his wife winking at the grinning photographer. His footsteps slowed on the stairs. Would he ever win? He glanced back down at his beautiful, naked wife and smiled.

He already had.