The Woman In Beige

The prompt at our Inksplinters Writers Group this week was “the woman in beige came down the lane with a hefty lope” (Nope, I don’t know where it came from either) and this is what I came up with in twenty minutes…

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She had been uncertain about the beige dress. She was afraid that it made her look a bit bland, like Daniel O’Donnell’s granny, and she was only thirty-two. The sales assistant, though, had assured her that beige was the new black, which is true in as much as it is colourless and depressing.

She didn’t know that the sales assistant had two hundred of these to get rid of because they had ordered “big dresses” from head office but the guy at the other end had misheard, so the sales assistant would have told her that it made her look like Beyonce if that was what it took to get her to buy one.

So down the lane she came, the colour of Lot’s wife, with a hefty lope. This was because she had broken the heel off her left shoe, one of the high-heeled peep-toed pair that she had bought in (beige and in) the hope that they would make her look glamorous and not, as she now looked, as if she was Long John Silver walking around a steep hill.

She broke off the other heel to counter the problem. This was effective as an anti-lope, but meant that the soles of her shoes were now taller than the heels. This wouldn’t have been too bad if she’d been walking up the lane, but as we have heard she wasn’t. She now walked with her head about two feet behind her feet, if that makes sense, which made her look like the Leaning Tower of Pisa trying to walk under a low bridge. The fact that she was all in beige did nothing to help dispel that image.

He watched her reach the end of the lane and opened the front door for her. She stomped in and stopped, wobbling like a weeble. He went to say something, saw the look on her face, and chickened out. She went to the bedroom and he heard two loud thumps, as one shoe followed another across the room to smack against the wall. He then heard a sound which was either a turkey coughing up a furball or a beige dress being ripped in half.

He sat back down in front of his piano. He had promised to write a song for her birthday, and as she had started down the lane he had written down the title “The Woman In Beige”. He now stared at a blank page for two hours before changing it to “The Lady In Red”.

Very little goes with beige, especially when you’re trying to think of something to rhyme with it.

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