Hi friends, here is another 500-word short story I submitted (for fun) to the Fast and Furious Fiction with Queensland Writers’ Centre (QWC) Please comment if you enjoy reading it. Why did I use this plot? I have been following the turn of events in the Papua New Guinea politics when this prompt came out in QWC’s challenge and having worked in a political office in my past life – I couldn’t help but come up with this approach. I hope you enjoy having a chuckle.
The challenge in May was: the first word must have eleven letters. The story must have the words, “maybe, dismay, mayor, mayonnaise, and mayhem and at some point in the story, someone or something must be running.
Accommodate. We were all advised at Mayor Bob Rhode’s campaign office last week that every volunteer must accommodate any challenges – to ensure our favourite candidate wins the elections.
I pulled a salmon blouse over my denim skirt. I had volunteered to assist with campaign administration. I heard a knock. It’s nine o’clock on Friday morning, May 3. From the bedroom, the street looked deserted. Josh my husband was in construction – he often left a tool or his hard hat behind and rushed home to get it. I picked up toys on my way to the front door.
Mayor Rhodes, 50, was a happily married father of two who built special swimming pools for disabled children. He recently extended Bellbowrie’s Bucher Park for the community to take refuge from the rain. Our community loved him.
I opened the door and was surprised.
“Good Morning Mayor.”
“Did Jessica tell you I was coming?” he asked smiling. “You seem surprised?”
“Maybe… Jessica forgot.” I stumbled. Jessica Simmons was his secretary.
“Can I come in?”
“Yes, of course,” I said and led him to the lounge. “What’s this about?” I asked.
I’m 25. My 30-year-old husband told me that I was naïve. “Honey, men look at those blue eyes, your gorgeous breasts, and slender legs, because they want you. Be careful!”
The mayor wore a red sports jacket, his campaign T-shirt and casual slacks. He said he wanted to discuss some strategies for the campaign.
“You are a perfect campaign leader – a smart, young, and beautiful mum. Voters respond to that,” he said.
“Would you like coffee?” I interrupted.
I left to put the kettle on. A blue sedan, not the mayor’s official car, was parked metres away from our entrance on 55 May St. I was anxious. Our five-year-old Jessica was at school. After being at home for five years, Josh had suggested last week I volunteer in the Mayor’s campaign and learn new skills.
I returned to the lounge with coffee and biscuits. Mayor Rhodes had removed his jacket.
On the coffee table, he laid papers and a bottle of mayonnaise. He pointed and said my campaign area were marked with pink highlights. He stared at me and paused.
“Do you like mayonnaise?” he asked softly.
I sat down with his coffee.
“Yes, I like mayonnaise, but what’s that got to do with the election?”
He took the coffee and set it down, then he leaned forward and touched my hands – he was so close, I pulled my hands away.
He quickly rose and unbuttoned his slacks.
“It won’t take much time,” and as he looked in my eyes he said, “you are so beautiful Daisy, I couldn’t stop thinking about you since you walked into my office last week.”
I gaped at him with dismay. All I could see was the headline, “MAYOR MAYHEM ON MAY ST.”
Suddenly, a car screeched to a halt outside; footsteps were running towards us.
“Honey! Daisy! I forgot my hard hat.”