Compromise
by Michael C. Keith
Genre: Humour
Swearwords: None.
Description: It's Howard's back story.
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We win justice quickest by rendering justice to the other party. – Mahatma Gandhi
Howard could stand or lie down, but he was barred from sitting.
“It’s impossible to live this way,” he complained to his wife, Vera.
“You knew that when we replaced the chairs in our house with brand new ones that you wouldn’t be allowed to sit on them because of your barbed tail,” she replied.
Howard had thought his wife’s unreasonable demand would be short lived once she saw the problem it created for him. He was wrong though. It had been three weeks, and she was holding fast to her edict barring his protuberance from ever making contact with their replacement seating.
“That’s all well and good for you. You don’t have a prehensile spike. Can’t you see I’m miserable?”
“Too bad. That thing has destroyed more furniture than I can count. I’ve pleaded with you for years to have it removed, but no you wouldn’t even consider it. Your precious, precious butt spear,” barked Vera.
“It’s an integral part of me. Removing it would change who I am. And you know there could be complications from surgery. Besides, have I asked you to cut off your third foot?”
“It doesn’t ruin the seats . . . does it?”
“C’mon, Vera. It’s affecting the quality of my home life. I’m so tired of standing while watching television or eating or reading the newspaper. None of these things work lying down either. You know that. Please, let me . . .”
“Forget about it. You’re not going to sit on our brand new chairs . . . never!”
It was with that emphatic statement that Howard decided to take action. It’s either her or me, he thought, while moving to where his wife sat in her shiny red leather recliner.
“What are you doing, Howard?” asked Vera, as her husband turned his back and suddenly descended on her, ass first.
The thickness of her lap kept Howard’s lance-like tail from cutting into the cushion of the chair under her.
“There . . . we both got what we wanted,” said Howard, as he nestled into the folds of his wife’s skirt.
He took her reticence to mean that he could now sit anywhere he damn well pleased.
Swearwords: None.
Description: It's Howard's back story.
_____________________________________________________________________
We win justice quickest by rendering justice to the other party. – Mahatma Gandhi
Howard could stand or lie down, but he was barred from sitting.
“It’s impossible to live this way,” he complained to his wife, Vera.
“You knew that when we replaced the chairs in our house with brand new ones that you wouldn’t be allowed to sit on them because of your barbed tail,” she replied.
Howard had thought his wife’s unreasonable demand would be short lived once she saw the problem it created for him. He was wrong though. It had been three weeks, and she was holding fast to her edict barring his protuberance from ever making contact with their replacement seating.
“That’s all well and good for you. You don’t have a prehensile spike. Can’t you see I’m miserable?”
“Too bad. That thing has destroyed more furniture than I can count. I’ve pleaded with you for years to have it removed, but no you wouldn’t even consider it. Your precious, precious butt spear,” barked Vera.
“It’s an integral part of me. Removing it would change who I am. And you know there could be complications from surgery. Besides, have I asked you to cut off your third foot?”
“It doesn’t ruin the seats . . . does it?”
“C’mon, Vera. It’s affecting the quality of my home life. I’m so tired of standing while watching television or eating or reading the newspaper. None of these things work lying down either. You know that. Please, let me . . .”
“Forget about it. You’re not going to sit on our brand new chairs . . . never!”
It was with that emphatic statement that Howard decided to take action. It’s either her or me, he thought, while moving to where his wife sat in her shiny red leather recliner.
“What are you doing, Howard?” asked Vera, as her husband turned his back and suddenly descended on her, ass first.
The thickness of her lap kept Howard’s lance-like tail from cutting into the cushion of the chair under her.
“There . . . we both got what we wanted,” said Howard, as he nestled into the folds of his wife’s skirt.
He took her reticence to mean that he could now sit anywhere he damn well pleased.
About the Author
Originally from Albany, New York, Michael C. Keith has paternal family roots stretching back to Clan Keith of Caithness and Aberdeenshire. A leading scholar in electronic media in the United States, he is the author of over 20 books on electronic media, as well as a memoir and three books of fiction. Much more about Michael and his publications can be found on his website: http://www.michaelckeith.com