Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Duct Tape Fixes Everything?

Six hours in, Glen was ready to kill Anne. Or Dr. Beady, the therapist who had suggested this. His fingers were numb, his wrist itched, Anne wouldn't stop talking, and he had to go to the bathroom - a situation he hadn't foreseen when he agreed to the duct tape challenge.

Thinking back, Glen realized that the marriage had never had any hope. The wedding night, when Julie fell into a champagne-aided slumber before even removing her shoes and Glen ordered "Die Hard" from the movie menu in the ornate Hilton honeymoon suite, should have tipped him off that the couple's interests would never converge.

Still, they had stuck it out for two meaningless years. Glen maintained his sanity by leaving early, staying out late, and buying Anne cards and flowers to shield her from his avoidant behavior. Unfortunately, the cards and flowers seemed to have given her the idea that he wanted to make it work. An idea that had led them to couples' therapy, to the groundbreaking discovery that they never did anything together, and finally to the duct tape challenge. Forty-eight hours, or an entire otherwise-perfectly-good weekend, joined at the wrist by infallible silver tape.

"Glen! Are you even listening to me?" Anne snapped. He hadn't been, and she knew it, but Glen was spared her wrath when the doorbell rang. Anne stood to go answer it, and Glen of course had no choice but to follow.

He never found out who had rung the doorbell. Anne had recently cleaned and waxed the hardwood floors in the living room, and she went down as soon as her sock-c0vered foot hit the shine. Glen watched it happen in slow motion, felt the wobble as her balance faltered and the sudden jerk in his shoulder socket as she pulled him down.

They landed in a random tangle, their joined arms pinned between their bodies. Cringing, Glen lifted his head and angled it up to look at Anne. Her features were twisted into a grimace so maniacal it could have been a smile. She opened her mouth slowly and Glen braced himself for the hurricane of anger brewing in her voice box.

And then Anne started laughing. Glen shook his head quickly, convinced the fall must have given him a concussion, but the laughing didn't stop or suddenly turn into screaming or crying. It simply grew until it filled the room and bounced off of the walls and swirled around them. It wasn't long until Glen himself was infected. He joined tentatively at first, then grew confident and amazed and finally he surrendered completely.

The couple laughed until they cried and then laughed until there were no tears left. They laughed until their throats were raw and the sun fell below the trees outside. After a long time, they sat up and faced each other on the floor. Gone were the stupid fights and the hateful glances, the diverging interests and the everyday stresses. All that was left was Anne - staring at him with the same green eyes and quirky smile she'd had before they'd gotten married - and their bound wrists.

Perhaps it's true, Glen thought as he leaned forward to kiss her cheek, that duct tape fixes everything.

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