Docile Davey Delaney

“Davey, where did you get that?”

The man rubbed the wine stain profusely. His favourite shirt, completely ruined by overindulgence and assorted silliness. Muttering, he gave up. The stain would have to remain…

“My dad never locks his cabinet. Look at it, Martha…It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“David…your shirt’s a mess.” His wife was a neat freak. She had seven arms, no breasts and a monolith in her stomach. That’s how he saw her. “Ja…Ja…It was a silly accident, Jennifer…Nothing to get pissed about,” he hollered towards the kitchen. She never knew when to let something go. “Then you mess it up worse by trying to clean it. Why didn’t you just leave it for me?” He bit down hard on his teeth. “One of these days…” She came into the room. “David, I’m talking to you…”

“Davey, be careful…Please…”

He loaded the red stained, rolled-up carpet in the back of his dirty bakkie. “Have to stop by the carwash first, then go to the supermarket, then I have to get rid of the carpet…Lastly, I have to pick up the girls, can’t forget the girls…”

“Don’t be such a baby…Nothing’s gonna happen!”

He bought himself a tall strawberry-flavoured crushed ice and invoked brain freezes, whilst loading the cart with boxes of custard and yogurt cookies. He waltzed in the isles, attracting stares and sniggers masking secret admiration. Then he found what he was really looking for…He was a gap-tooth kid again, doing whatever he felt like with no fear of the consequences.

“Davey, you always get us into trouble…DAVEY, WATCH OUT!”

His favourite song, “Break my stride”, served as the soundtrack for his journey. CD on loop… The clean bakkie stopped by the side of a road overlooking a steep embankment. He wrestled the heavy carpet from the vehicle with great difficulty. He ensured that the coast was clear, before rolling it over the edge. He stood there, staring entranced as the carpet rolled to the bottom where it joined an army of other lonely junk. He felt free at last, severed from useless responsibilities…

“Martha! Martha! Please, wake up now…Open your eyes, Martha!”

The two girls sprinted towards the bakkie, competitive to the last. “Ja, good one, my girls… Linda took it!!” He laughed uproariously. “But don’t worry, Sandra…my little angel…you’ll get another chance tomorrow…” The girls giggled in stereo. “Is mommy home yet?” He stared off into the distance, suddenly distracted. “No, Sandra…Mommy’s not home yet…”

“Please Martha…Please don’t leave me…” The blood dripped from the walls and pooled on the shaggy carpet, more blood than he had ever seen before…

They arrived home at last. The girls ran into the house. Davey stayed in the bakkie. He turned up the volume on his favourite song, “The king of wishful thinking”… CD on loop…The girls screamed…

“David…Dinner’s ready… I made your favourite… Thanks for buying them those dolls; they’ve been nagging for weeks… ” Jennifer kissed him tenderly. “Ja, I found those dollies on special this morning. There were just two left, how lucky was that, babe?” She smiled. “Very lucky, Davey…” “Ja, I bought the dollies home and put them on their beds. You know, to surprise them…” She ran her hand through his gruff hair. “I’ll be there just now, babe.” His wife was his loving inspiration. She had auburn locks, flawless skin, timeless curves and a new future in her stomach. That’s how he saw her. He had fallen asleep in the dirty bakkie. He gathered himself, shaking cobwebs loose. “Count your daily blessings, Davey…” This refrain looped in his head, as he went inside…