guilty pleasure by shimmie shake rock.

Bobby came back from the crapper. He decided it was time. Phyllis was sitting at the table with a glass of red in her hand. They were celebrating their wedding anniversary. That was a laugh. For one thing they hadn’t had sex in almost six months; and for another…well Bobby wasn’t quite sure how to say it.

Bobby sat down. He crossed his arms and stared at the table.

            What happen to the rest of my desert? he asked. 

            I thought you were done with it, said Phyllis.

Bobby took a deep breath.

            You ate it, didn’t you?

            What?

            You heard me. I said you ate it!

            No the waiter…

            Christ!

            Bobby, what’s the matter?

Bobby wiped the sweat that was dripping from his lip. 

            Phyllis. There’s something we really need to talk about.

 Phyllis stared back, innocently.

            Ah shit! Forget it! said Bobby.

            Forget what? asked Phyllis.

            I SAID FORGET IT!

Bobby looked away, picked up his glass of Scotch and drained it.

Back at home, the baby sitter had been discharged and Phyllis was sat on the sofa, watching the TV, eating a tub of Ben and Jerry’s ice cream. Bobby kissed his son goodnight and then went into his study and poured himself a glass of Scotch. Sitting at his desk, he began tinkering with his air-fix models. By the time he returned to the living room Phyllis had eaten the whole tub of ice cream and was snoring away in bed.

In the middle of the night Bobby was disturbed by a banging sound. He opened his eyes and looked about the bedroom. The covers were drawn back and Phyllis was gone. Bobby got up, put on his robe and bedroom sleepers and went down stairs.

           What the hell are you doing? asked Bobby.

            What the hell does it look like I’m doing? asked Phyllis.

Bobby rubbed his eyes, walked across the kitchen and put his face close to the oven door.

            My god you’re cooking a roast, he said.

            So what if I am? said Phyllis.

            It’s three am in the goddamn morning.

            I know what time it is.

            Well nobody cooks a goddamn roast at three in the morning.

            Well guess what?

            I’m going back to bed, said Bobby.

            Don’t I get a hug?

Bobby stared at his wife. He stared at the rolls of fatty flesh around her neck, her mammoth breasts, her swollen belly, her enormous buttocks, her hips, her thick thighs…and he was stunned. As terrible as it sounded, he couldn’t believe how disgustingly fat she’d become.

            I’ll see you in the morning, he mumbled. He poured himself a glass of water, kissed her on the cheek and left the room. 

Bobby worked for the government. In the office that he’d worked for seven years a good many of his co-workers were women. As far as he could tell, all they seemed to do was talk about diets and food all day.

It was eleven o’clock in the morning. Bobby was going over the annual report. Behind him he could hear a gang of girls engaged in animated conversation:

            I feel fat… How can ya say that?…Look at me!…But you’re so thin…I’ve just             started a new diet… Wow, me too…Lemme guess, Weight Watchers?…Naw,       Jenny Craig…Guess what, yesterday I only ate four hundred calories all             day…You’re kidding!

Christ, thought Bobby. To these girls it’s almost a religion.

Bobby keyed a sequence of numbers into his computer. He stood up and raised his hand.

            I’m going to the store. Anyone need anything? he asked.

            No thanks…No…No…No thanks.

Then the voices started up again.

            Can you believe it, only four hundred calories? If you weren’t on a diet we             could celebrate…What if I don’t eat for the rest of the day?

Bobby put on his jacket, took the orders and moved towards the door.         

Bobby came back from the bakers with a box of assorted pastries. He made himself a cup of coffee, sat down at his desk and stared out the window. He watched the people in the street below and began to feel depressed. There had to be more to my life than filling in spreadsheets, and listening to a bunch of women go on about the food from nine to five.

            Hmmm these are amazing! Oh they’re orgasmic!…And so fresh!

Bobby sighed. The day passed.

The next day at work for Bobby was pretty much the same. The girls talked about the diets they intended to try out, and after were done, Bobby took their orders and went to the bakery across the street.

At home things weren’t much better. Phyllis appeared to be getting heavier by the day. She was pretty, and had once had an attractive figure. While Bobby worked in the accounts department, Phyllis looked after their three-year old son, Junior. When she wasn’t tending home, or attempting to harness herself self-esteem with Dr Phil and Oprah, she ate to fill the boredom.

In the evenings Phyllis stood in the kitchen, preparing elaborate meals, which Bobby ate without comment. He’d tear into the meat, and shovelled potatoes and vegetables into his mouth. He ate in silence and without expression. It was almost as if he couldn’t taste the food. As if swallowing the food was just something he was programmed to do…much like breathing.

It was mid June and the heat in the office was unbearable. It was so hot in the office that Bobby felt faint. The sweat poured off of him. Every twenty minutes or so he would jump up from his seat and run off to the washroom to splash cold water over his face.

            Christ! I’m burning up over here, said Bobby. I could do with a nice cool drink.

            D’you think it’s legal? asked one of the girls.

            All I know is, we shouldn’t have to work in these atrocious conditions, said Bobby.

            You know what we should do, said the girl.

            Yeah, throw in the towel. Quit! said Bobby frowning.

            No silly, get a huge pack of ice cream, said the girl.

            Christ! I should have seen that coming, thought Bobby.

He took the office orders and left.

Bobby waited for the elevator doors to open. As he entered, a girl stepped in behind him. Bobby got a good look at her body as she move into the corner.

            Perfect, thought Bobby. She’s perfect.

They both faced straight ahead. Neither of them spoke. Suddenly there was a loud screeching noise. The elevator jolted to a stop and the lights flashed on and off.

            What the hell! Bobby mumbled under his breath.

He pushed the elevator buttons several times but nothing happened.

            Looks like its jammed again, he said.

He hit the emergency button and a crackly voice came through the intercom.

            Yeah buddy, what’s the problem? asked the voice.  

            Elevator’s jammed, said Bobby.

            Ok, hang in there. I’ll have one of the guys take a look. 

Ten minutes passed and they were still jammed between floors. By now the elevator was so hot it was like being trapped inside a tiny sauna. Bobby’s clothes were soaking wet but despite a hatred of confined spaces, he was trying to remain calm. The girl had crouched down and started unbuttoning her blouse. Bobby took of his jacket and tie, and undid his shirt buttons.

           What did you mean by again? asked the girl.

            What? asked Bobby.

            You said the elevator was jammed again.

            Oh yeah, happens all the time, said Bobby, balling his fists and blinking.

            They will come for us won’t they? asked the girl

Bobby grinned nervously and nodded his head.

 Bobby took off his shirt and the girl took of her blouse. There were tiny glistening bumbles of sweat over her lightly tanned neck and shoulders. They were both sitting on the floor. They actually seemed to be visibly melting.

            Hi I’m Michelle, said the girl. I work in Personnel.

            Hi I’m Bobby from Accounts, said Bobby, trembling.

They shook hands. Then they began talking. Talking was good. It seemed to take Bobby’s minds off the heat, his growing sense of claustrophobia and the fact that he was dangling nine floors above the ground.

It’s funny how we never met before, said Michelle. Maybe we could meet up for lunch, sometime

            I’d like that, said Bobby.

Suddenly the elevator shuddered and seemed to drop another foot. Michelle gasped and grabbed hold of Bobby’s hand. Bobby closed his eyes and prayed that they would make it.