The Vicar’s Wife

Dignified funeral,
a massive affair —
all the church members
dressed in the blackest

black or the darkest grey.
Sombre mood — much as martha,
the vicar’s wife, had exhibited
since the vicar’s passing. Living

in a cottage behind the old mill,
spending her days doing good works,
still receiving parishioners as though
nothing had ever changed.

At the ‘right’ time, the womens
guild moved quietly through the
small home, ooh-ing and aah-ing
about martha’s high standards as they

savoured the smell of furniture polish
that reflected loving care on every surface.
Methodically the ladies sorted martha’s
possessions into piles. Charity, garbage,

martha’s friends, ‘don’t know’, donations.
Within a few hours they arrived in the only
bedroom and boxes slowly filled as the
remnants of a pure life were examined.

susan gibbons gleefully lowered the box
from the back of the top shelf, ‘martha’s toys’
scribbled on the side in bold black ink. She
opened it with a smile of anticipation

before dropping it, squealing in sheer
horror. Or was it delight? annie o’reilly,
spinster, fainted as a massive, rigid,
plastic penis rolled towards her feet.

Soon the entire town knew that whilst martha's
days were spent in service her nights were
spent in self-pleasure. What happened to
her sex toys? The womens guild took them...

 

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