Victor’s high-jinx never impressed Sally. Messed with her mind and her mood. Starting small, he’d escalate until she declared war. A truce, a period of peace, until . . . Victor off on a crazy antic, a viral video within minutes of posting. Sally didn’t appreciate the global portrayal of her as Viral Victor’s bitchy, demanding wife with no sense of humour or playfulness.
Then, it was find the car keys. An obscure, slightly obscene clue, uncoded equaled location of keys. Once bored with this, Victor moved up to hiding Sally’s car. During a snow storm. On her first day of a new job.
Friends and family gathered to offer support. “Poor Sally.” “Victor gone.” “Must have been making one of his videos; fell in the car trunk.” “Bashed his head on the trunk lid.” “Parked where he was, no-one would hear him.” “Found too late.” “Snow storm.”
Sally thanked everyone for stopping by after the funeral. House finally empty, she changed into comfy clothes, made a bowl of popcorn, and settled down to watch her personal-viral video – Victor pleading for her to let him out of the trunk of her car. As it got colder. And snowier. (200)
Written for Sunday Photo Fiction, January 17th, 2016. Thanks, Al, for the taste of winter!