A Stitch in Time Saves Nine

By Bob Lock

Her eyes followed my movements around the room like one of those old paintings you hear about. You know the ones, they’re usually found in an old haunted house, hung high up on a wall and when you look at them they seem to stare back, you move, they follow, just like my wife’s were doing now. But at least she was quiet for a change. Quiet — actually for the first time in our marriage, all ten long bloody years of it. Funny thing is, before we got married she wouldn’t say boo to a goose. A week after putting on that little gold band, she would not only say boo to the unfortunate animal, she’d pick one up by the neck and scream in its face loud enough to de-feather the poor creature without even blinking an eye. Those eyes stared unblinkingly at me now. I moved, they followed, moved again, they followed again. Ok, she was silent, but still able to piss me off. I tried to ignore her and rummaged through the drawers in my bench again, still unable to find what I was looking for.

Did she grumble then? Did she actually have the damned gall to grumble again? I stopped searching and turned with my hands on my hips; I tapped one foot angrily on the floor and looked at her. She didn’t make a move, was silent, brooding, her lips sealed tight. Her lips sealed tight, that idea came originally from her.

‘A stitch in time, Jack. A stitch in time saves nine. Better to do the work now before it gets too bad. Never mind the football, never mind going for a pint with those idiots you call mates. Out to the garage you go, get it done, a stitch in time.’

I looked at her again; she hadn’t said that, that was a memory ingrained into my grey matter. She couldn’t say that again. My handiwork had made sure of it; actually she couldn’t say anything again. I checked the stitching on her lips, not bad considering sewing wasn’t really my forte. The blood had dried, dark spots where the needle had pierced in and out, up and down, I think she called it a blanket stitch. Whatever it was called, it worked, and it shut her up. She watched me and I smiled at her.

‘Didn’t think I’d do it, did you?’ I asked, knowing she couldn’t answer, ‘well surprise surprise.’ But I knew that it wouldn’t be enough now. Once I’d started I knew it wouldn’t be enough, a stitch in time saves nine, but a chainsaw is what you needed if you really wanted to get the job done properly, a needle and thread just didn’t cut the mustard. Her eyes followed my searching hands as they rummaged through the big drawer on my garage workbench. Finally my fingers closed over my small electric chainsaw.

‘Ta-da!’ I said, hoisting it into the air, brushing against one of her eyes with the sleeve of my throwaway coverall. It rolled off the bench onto the floor. Her other one just lay there, staring accusingly. I shrugged, swept that one onto the floor too, stamped on them both, plugged the chainsaw in and started it up.

‘Better you don’t see this part anyway,’ I said to her corpse as the whirring blade sunk into the fleshy part of her upper arm. I’m sure she nodded in agreement but I was probably wrong…