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By Julie Grenness

Had the bride arrived?

“At last!” thought genial, affable, balding and paunchy Johnny. After a few months of online emails, and with slightly drunken late-night love phone chats, the train pulled in to his small town railway station.

His hopes were rising that, at last, Johnny was going to grow old disgracefully. Where was his bride, "Luscious?"

“Johnny!” Johnny turned, and nearly fainted. “I’m Luscious!” exclaimed a large, greying woman, clutching a suitcase, a duffel bag and the hand of a red-headed, very cross-looking toddler.

“Luscious?” Johnny gulped as she stood, beaming. Luscious was displaying an impressive amount of dental decay. “Take me home, lover boy. This is my grandson, Brent. He is a free spirit. So am I!” she added.

“Right, this might not be so bad,” Johnny reassured himself.

Had the bride arrived? Luscious marched into genial Johnny’s home, sat down on the couch and grabbed the television remote. She was polishing off a couple of cans of bourbon which she had brought along for the ride. Brent yelled, “Puppy!” as he attempted to do naughty things to affable Johnny’s black Labrador. Well, the canine had been enjoying his nap.

Johnny was stunned. “Could you leave the dog alone, please, Brent?” “No!” the toddler shrieked. “Could you stop him from taking off his nappy?” asked Johnny. “Grandma doesn’t care. Let him express himself." 

Luscious opened her suitcase and removed a carton of cigarettes, two lighters and an ashtray, along with a bottle of vodka. She planned ahead. Of course, there were some texta pens for Brent, which he promptly grabbed, to start decorating kindly Johnny’s immaculate walls.

“That online photo must have been old, Luscious,” remarked Johnny. “I thought you were a young blonde.” “Nah,” said Luscious, “Grey is the new blonde. You were young once, too. I did use a red rinse in my hair.”

Johnny looked and saw that her partial red hair did match her bleary eyes. “Could you stop Brent from coloring my walls?”

“He is a free spirit, and must express himself. Grandma doesn’t care. That’s a lovely picture, Brent. You are my good little man.”

Luscious took some hand weights from her suitcase. “I like exercising at the gym, too,” said Johnny, searching for common interests. “I exercise at home,” said Luscious, “I am the pride of the fleet in my single mother’s chat room.” She flexed her prize ham arms, hairy armpits on show in her sleeveless top.

Johnny gulped again, imagining his wedding night, flattened by Luscious in all her glory. Had the bride arrived? Brent by now had found the drawer of sharp utentsils and was attempting surgery on the very patient Labrador. “Er, Brent," Johnny tried to intervene.

“Grandma doesn’t care!” giggled Luscious. Brent piddled on the carpet in the corner, then proceeded to hack the potplants. “Well, that once was décor,” thought Johnny, ever the pacifist.

“I detect an accent, Luscious. Where were you born?” “In Rooty Hill in Australia.”

“You made that up,” said Johnny, bemused. This Luscious was funny, sort of. “No, I did not! Australian surveyors have a sense of humor. I come from Rooty Hill, and proud of it!”

“I thought we might cook dinner together,” Johnny suggested. “You said you liked cooking.” “Nah, too energetic” was the response.

“Pizza!” yelled Brent. “Yes,” said ever-affable Johhny, “We’ll eat pizza. I know by now, Grandma doesn’t care!”

The dog crept away to hide under the bed. The bride had arrived!

— Julie Grenness

Julie Grenness is a poet and writer in Australia. She’s a former teacher who now tutors and mentors young people.