The Missus

by Natasha West

Alanna didn’t ordinarily like to use words like ‘Crazy’, but what Keira had proposed was batshit banana-pants crazy. Mad as fish. Nutty as a pistachio wearing a walnut shell coat and a hat made of almond.

‘You seem very certain your date will come back.’ ‘I do, don’t I?’ Keira said cheekily as she left.

Keira didn’t like chaos. She wanted to cut through life like a dolphin through water, having a good time, getting laid often, and eating tuna occasionally.

‘What is it with people? Why can’t they treat sex as a sport?’ ‘People are wired to form attachments. It’s evolutionary. You herd up to stay safe from predators,’ Alanna said, handing her the cup. ‘That’s what it is?’ Keira said, shocked. ‘Cavepeople try not to get eaten by dinosaurs. and now I can’t get laid without girls trying to marry me?’ She took a sip of her drink, wide-eyed. ‘Please assure me that you know those things didn’t exist at the same time,’ Alanna said, pouring her coffee into a to-go cup. ‘You’re saying homo erectus wasn’t battling pterodactyls with an AK-47? I’ve got to stop learning history from Facebook.’

Fucking words. I hate them sometimes.’ ‘Weird career choice, then.’ ‘You don’t write because you’re indifferent to words,’ Keira told her. ‘You do it because you have a sick, co-dependent relationship with them that causes you to rage and delight all the livelong day.’