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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Love stories / Romance
- Subject: Crime
- Published: 03/28/2022
I Wish I Was A Fly On the Wall
Born 1954, M, from St Louis Mo, United StatesHave you ever said, I wish I was a fly on the wall? I expect when something we knew was going to be interesting or exciting we have all said it, or at least thought it.
Now here I am in my old age and wondering what to do with my time. So I talk to those I can, read, watch tv and do small projects I still can. A few months ago I found my self at a yard sell.
I knew the lady that was having the sale was known around town as a bit weird. Of course what does that really mean? Is it her taste in hats? Is it her choice of curtains? Is it her style of cooking or food choices? Perhaps it is the number of pets that occupies her time? Could be the way she talks, one minute on this the next on that then back to this.
I expect if you come right down to it, we are all a bit weird. My kids think I am, because I simply refuse to drink after anyone. The other day my son took a taste of my sweet tea, I told him just keep it and ordered another at the restaurant we were dinning in.
My grandson calls me weird because I like hats, you know like cowboy hats, and Fedora's. I tried to explain my high quality felt stetson cowboy hat, offers shade on my neck and forehead, it serves as a marvelous umbrella, no rain on my glasses or down my neck. The fedora is comfortable while protecting from heat and cold and rain and a bit more dressy.
My ex wife called me weird because I will not, unless no choice, without slippers or shoes walk around, even my own house.
My brother says I am weird because I love tomatoes but refuse to eat catsup. My mom not only thought I was weird but frustrating because if my food touches each other I am not going to eat it, with a few exceptions. How can anyone eat fried chicken that has green bean juice on it, or mashed potatoes that has all kind of other food juices running on it?
Almost everyone calls me weird because I will not eat any kind of salad unless it’s a fruit one. If God wanted me to eat what is essentially grass he would have made me a rabbit. So what makes a person earn a reputation of weird when we all are in some ways?
Perhaps as age sets in and our hair colors change to gray then white, is it a bit eccentric or clearly weird that people spend a lot of money to dye it? Changing the hair does nothing to hide the wrinkled up old face. So people snicker and say, there is Pam trying to look 17 and she does not realize she looks like a bar room hooker.
So back to the yard sale, it was interesting to say the least as I mingled with town folks. Some who were there out of curiosity about who and just how weird this lady was. There are always the bargain hunters that buy cheap and resell high. A few who were in need looking for a good deal.
Me I really don’t know why I went more than I had nothing better to do, and who knows what treasures might be found? The old 1950's coffee pot with a frazzled cord was not one of them. The old dishes with chipped edges, stains, and nothing making a full set was of no interest.
Looking for and finding a few tools is worth a stop, if they are one’s of good quality. The few she had was Buffalo brand that was junk the day they were bought new. Old old skill saw that had as much rust as a hillbillies pickup. Nothing here so far to make me dig into my pocket.
Then I spied a pile of books, I made my way to the table. Here surely I could find something to spend a buck on. I hate to go to a yard sale and not buy something. Always seemed to me people who were doing yard sales really needed a few bucks. Maybe it would by them a roast or a few spuds, help pay the electric, and I didn’t want to go home feeling guilty.
I went through the stack of books one by one. Most romantic drams of somebody falling in love with the most unlikely candidate. Then a book that grabbed my attention. Myths and Spells, Real or Not, that had me. I paid my buck and headed home feeling as if I had done my duty.
Once home, I grabbed a coke out of the fridge and relaxed in my recliner. The book in hand, I sit back with a smile and my glasses low on my nose.
The first few chapters were meaningless love spells, old wives tales and such like. The last chapter had me intrigued, it was spells supposedly from a old voodoo witch in Jamaica.
As I was reading my attention was drawn away by my neighbors having a argument. The room walls were thin and I could here them in the hallway screaming at each other. It was something about him and a girl that worked for him at a shop he managed.
As I tried to read and listen at the same time, I said aloud, I wish I was a fly on their wall.
In an instant I was on the wall next to a old photo of somebody’s mother or grandmother. I realized I was a fly, I had wings and small, and I could see and hear it all. Fear of not changing back had not entered my head. I was not even surprised, just wowed.
Man she was hot, and I don’t mean in how she looked, though that was not bad. I mean as in mad, and she was smoking mad. She yelled, you stupid idiot ya think I don’t know what’s going on?
Over at your brothers house you called that fake blonde your work wife! How many times a week are you doing her, because it’s sure not me you been playing with. Do you last more then three minutes with that lil B…..h work wife, if so she can have your sorry a….
He tried to stay calm, baby, it was just a expression, I only love you. Come on baby, I wouldn’t cheat on you….. she cut him off. Don’t hand me that, you were cheating on your first girlfriend with me, so why not cheat on your wife? Once a cheater always a cheater.
I flew in to the bedroom as she entered and slammed the door. I landed on the lamp shade and watched as she grabbed a suitcase from under the bed. She was tossing her dresses and blouses and pants in till it was full.
Then she got another suitcase from underneath the bed and started tossing in her undies. Some that caught my attention, ok I know I am old, but I did think. Wow you can move in with me and wear those anytime and skip the rest.
I was enjoying this being a fly on the wall thing. I thought this beats my expectations for excitement. When she pulled out of the drawer the last item. It was a see through blue net bra and panties. Next it was a 40 millimeter black pistol.
I watched as she pulled the clip out and made sure it was loaded. She most definitely knew about guns. I watched her take one of his tee shirts and wipe the gun clean. Slipping on a pair of white women's dress gloves and heading for the door. I knew this was not going to be good.
I buzzed her head, I was trying to tell her, this is not worth it. Hey cheat with me if you must get even, but not this. She swatted at me and almost got me. As she walked in the living room. A smile was on her face, but if he had looked at her eyes!
She said, I am sorry sweetheart, I overreacted. She hugged him and a big smile came on his face as he kissed her neck. She raised her hand, before he realized a thing, the muzzle was on his temple and blood was spraying out the other side as she jumped back.
Calm as a woman examining a cake she just baked, she put the gun in his hand and stepped back. She picked up her cell phone off the table and called the police. Then she went in bath room and flushed the glove down the toilet.
It was easy for her, she cried and convinced cop they were making up when he shot himself in the head. They bought it hook, line and sinker and suggested she go stay with her mother and gave her a number to call to get place cleaned.
She was crying as she grabbed her already packed bags and headed for the car. I flew out and watched the smile as she started down the road. Oh my gosh, I thought, than to the big guy above I said, I am glad she didn’t cheat with me.
I went home, I wondered would I remain a fly. I wished I could be my self again. There I was standing in my chair. I mumbled, I don’t want to ever be a fly on the wall again, as I climbed down. As I sit back in my chair I looked at the book laying on the floor where I guessed it dropped too as I was whisked away.
I heard a knock on my door, as I got up, I said, I hope I never see that darn book again. I opened the door to find two police officers. They had lots of questions, but I couldn’t tell them what I had witnessed. Who would believe that I had become a fly on the wall, I wasn’t sure I even believed it my self.
So I said, I heard them arguing in hall but nothing else till I heard the shot.
The next day a cleaning crew was in her apartment and by end of week she was home. It was in the newspaper about a jealous husband in the heat of an argument holding his wife while he committed suicide. I thought, the perfect crime at last had been done.
Things for the next two months were as normal, whatever that is. I would see her in hall and she would smile and speak. I noticed she was fixing herself up, nice hair style, nice make up and sexier outfits.
I tried to become a fly again, to no avail. The book had disappeared and no matter how much I searched it was just gone. I was about to convince myself it had all been a dream.
On one Friday night a knock on my door. I opened it and too my surprise, there she stood in a thin blue robe. How about coming over for dinner I am alone and you’re alone, maybe we can enjoy each other’s company.
Of course I said yes and asked what time. I was convinced it had been a dream. That was until she turned to leave and the robe fell open. The blue laced knit undies that I had seen her pack, she was wearing them.
Now my palms are sweating, and I feel some apprehension about going, but I must. Ok you now think I am the weird neighbor, or maybe you think, what a crazy old man!
Crazy is like weird, it is all a matter of one’s perspective. Like a dream and reality can blend into a nightmare or paradise. Age is just a number, especially when the mind focuses on blue lacy undergarments on a very attractive lady. So you get to decide, but if I am going to die, I might as well die happy!
I Wish I Was A Fly On the Wall(Rich Puckett)
Have you ever said, I wish I was a fly on the wall? I expect when something we knew was going to be interesting or exciting we have all said it, or at least thought it.
Now here I am in my old age and wondering what to do with my time. So I talk to those I can, read, watch tv and do small projects I still can. A few months ago I found my self at a yard sell.
I knew the lady that was having the sale was known around town as a bit weird. Of course what does that really mean? Is it her taste in hats? Is it her choice of curtains? Is it her style of cooking or food choices? Perhaps it is the number of pets that occupies her time? Could be the way she talks, one minute on this the next on that then back to this.
I expect if you come right down to it, we are all a bit weird. My kids think I am, because I simply refuse to drink after anyone. The other day my son took a taste of my sweet tea, I told him just keep it and ordered another at the restaurant we were dinning in.
My grandson calls me weird because I like hats, you know like cowboy hats, and Fedora's. I tried to explain my high quality felt stetson cowboy hat, offers shade on my neck and forehead, it serves as a marvelous umbrella, no rain on my glasses or down my neck. The fedora is comfortable while protecting from heat and cold and rain and a bit more dressy.
My ex wife called me weird because I will not, unless no choice, without slippers or shoes walk around, even my own house.
My brother says I am weird because I love tomatoes but refuse to eat catsup. My mom not only thought I was weird but frustrating because if my food touches each other I am not going to eat it, with a few exceptions. How can anyone eat fried chicken that has green bean juice on it, or mashed potatoes that has all kind of other food juices running on it?
Almost everyone calls me weird because I will not eat any kind of salad unless it’s a fruit one. If God wanted me to eat what is essentially grass he would have made me a rabbit. So what makes a person earn a reputation of weird when we all are in some ways?
Perhaps as age sets in and our hair colors change to gray then white, is it a bit eccentric or clearly weird that people spend a lot of money to dye it? Changing the hair does nothing to hide the wrinkled up old face. So people snicker and say, there is Pam trying to look 17 and she does not realize she looks like a bar room hooker.
So back to the yard sale, it was interesting to say the least as I mingled with town folks. Some who were there out of curiosity about who and just how weird this lady was. There are always the bargain hunters that buy cheap and resell high. A few who were in need looking for a good deal.
Me I really don’t know why I went more than I had nothing better to do, and who knows what treasures might be found? The old 1950's coffee pot with a frazzled cord was not one of them. The old dishes with chipped edges, stains, and nothing making a full set was of no interest.
Looking for and finding a few tools is worth a stop, if they are one’s of good quality. The few she had was Buffalo brand that was junk the day they were bought new. Old old skill saw that had as much rust as a hillbillies pickup. Nothing here so far to make me dig into my pocket.
Then I spied a pile of books, I made my way to the table. Here surely I could find something to spend a buck on. I hate to go to a yard sale and not buy something. Always seemed to me people who were doing yard sales really needed a few bucks. Maybe it would by them a roast or a few spuds, help pay the electric, and I didn’t want to go home feeling guilty.
I went through the stack of books one by one. Most romantic drams of somebody falling in love with the most unlikely candidate. Then a book that grabbed my attention. Myths and Spells, Real or Not, that had me. I paid my buck and headed home feeling as if I had done my duty.
Once home, I grabbed a coke out of the fridge and relaxed in my recliner. The book in hand, I sit back with a smile and my glasses low on my nose.
The first few chapters were meaningless love spells, old wives tales and such like. The last chapter had me intrigued, it was spells supposedly from a old voodoo witch in Jamaica.
As I was reading my attention was drawn away by my neighbors having a argument. The room walls were thin and I could here them in the hallway screaming at each other. It was something about him and a girl that worked for him at a shop he managed.
As I tried to read and listen at the same time, I said aloud, I wish I was a fly on their wall.
In an instant I was on the wall next to a old photo of somebody’s mother or grandmother. I realized I was a fly, I had wings and small, and I could see and hear it all. Fear of not changing back had not entered my head. I was not even surprised, just wowed.
Man she was hot, and I don’t mean in how she looked, though that was not bad. I mean as in mad, and she was smoking mad. She yelled, you stupid idiot ya think I don’t know what’s going on?
Over at your brothers house you called that fake blonde your work wife! How many times a week are you doing her, because it’s sure not me you been playing with. Do you last more then three minutes with that lil B…..h work wife, if so she can have your sorry a….
He tried to stay calm, baby, it was just a expression, I only love you. Come on baby, I wouldn’t cheat on you….. she cut him off. Don’t hand me that, you were cheating on your first girlfriend with me, so why not cheat on your wife? Once a cheater always a cheater.
I flew in to the bedroom as she entered and slammed the door. I landed on the lamp shade and watched as she grabbed a suitcase from under the bed. She was tossing her dresses and blouses and pants in till it was full.
Then she got another suitcase from underneath the bed and started tossing in her undies. Some that caught my attention, ok I know I am old, but I did think. Wow you can move in with me and wear those anytime and skip the rest.
I was enjoying this being a fly on the wall thing. I thought this beats my expectations for excitement. When she pulled out of the drawer the last item. It was a see through blue net bra and panties. Next it was a 40 millimeter black pistol.
I watched as she pulled the clip out and made sure it was loaded. She most definitely knew about guns. I watched her take one of his tee shirts and wipe the gun clean. Slipping on a pair of white women's dress gloves and heading for the door. I knew this was not going to be good.
I buzzed her head, I was trying to tell her, this is not worth it. Hey cheat with me if you must get even, but not this. She swatted at me and almost got me. As she walked in the living room. A smile was on her face, but if he had looked at her eyes!
She said, I am sorry sweetheart, I overreacted. She hugged him and a big smile came on his face as he kissed her neck. She raised her hand, before he realized a thing, the muzzle was on his temple and blood was spraying out the other side as she jumped back.
Calm as a woman examining a cake she just baked, she put the gun in his hand and stepped back. She picked up her cell phone off the table and called the police. Then she went in bath room and flushed the glove down the toilet.
It was easy for her, she cried and convinced cop they were making up when he shot himself in the head. They bought it hook, line and sinker and suggested she go stay with her mother and gave her a number to call to get place cleaned.
She was crying as she grabbed her already packed bags and headed for the car. I flew out and watched the smile as she started down the road. Oh my gosh, I thought, than to the big guy above I said, I am glad she didn’t cheat with me.
I went home, I wondered would I remain a fly. I wished I could be my self again. There I was standing in my chair. I mumbled, I don’t want to ever be a fly on the wall again, as I climbed down. As I sit back in my chair I looked at the book laying on the floor where I guessed it dropped too as I was whisked away.
I heard a knock on my door, as I got up, I said, I hope I never see that darn book again. I opened the door to find two police officers. They had lots of questions, but I couldn’t tell them what I had witnessed. Who would believe that I had become a fly on the wall, I wasn’t sure I even believed it my self.
So I said, I heard them arguing in hall but nothing else till I heard the shot.
The next day a cleaning crew was in her apartment and by end of week she was home. It was in the newspaper about a jealous husband in the heat of an argument holding his wife while he committed suicide. I thought, the perfect crime at last had been done.
Things for the next two months were as normal, whatever that is. I would see her in hall and she would smile and speak. I noticed she was fixing herself up, nice hair style, nice make up and sexier outfits.
I tried to become a fly again, to no avail. The book had disappeared and no matter how much I searched it was just gone. I was about to convince myself it had all been a dream.
On one Friday night a knock on my door. I opened it and too my surprise, there she stood in a thin blue robe. How about coming over for dinner I am alone and you’re alone, maybe we can enjoy each other’s company.
Of course I said yes and asked what time. I was convinced it had been a dream. That was until she turned to leave and the robe fell open. The blue laced knit undies that I had seen her pack, she was wearing them.
Now my palms are sweating, and I feel some apprehension about going, but I must. Ok you now think I am the weird neighbor, or maybe you think, what a crazy old man!
Crazy is like weird, it is all a matter of one’s perspective. Like a dream and reality can blend into a nightmare or paradise. Age is just a number, especially when the mind focuses on blue lacy undergarments on a very attractive lady. So you get to decide, but if I am going to die, I might as well die happy!
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Shelly Garrod
03/28/2022Interesting story Rich. There have been times I wish I were a fly on the wall. Well done!
Shelly
Help Us Understand What's Happening
Rich Puckett
03/28/2022Thank you and so have I had that wish but I would not like it if I saw what he did lol
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