Another prompt from Sue, here
Revenge is best served…
Teagan McSprout hated Irvine, her husband. Partly it was his condescension, which she had been blind to before their marriage by a combination of witty one liners and a genetically forked tongue that made their love-making a four-dimensional experience.
At the time even his name seemed cool – when you are born Fern-Buttock, McSprout seems a step up. But the gloss soon tarnished under his withering sarcasm. But mostly it was because she realised her was an irredeemable dickhead.
The McSprouts met at Derbyshire’s International Escapologist Olympics where he was competing in the Underwater Straightjacket (four locks) category and she in the Chains and Padlocks (50 Kg and above Freestyle) where she took gold for the third year.
They married inside a year and formed a formidable touring partnership drawing crowds with their breathtaking feats. But gradually Teagan’s mix of ambidexterity and wardrobe malfunctions made her the favourite and a subtle shift occurred with Teagan working the escapes and Irvine the crowds. Her fame grew as his faded and he expressed his embitteredness with glib putdowns.
Finally, her patience snapped. She determined to leave him and wrote a pithy explanatory letter listing her grievances and placed it in their dressing room for him to find after their show. But that wasn’t enough to satisfy Teagan for years of humiliations.
The climax of their show comprised her being chained and locked inside a scold’s cage, hoisted to fifteen feet and covered in a cloth. After the crowd counted to 20 Irvine pulled the silken rope to reveal an empty prison.
As was customary, having tugged the cord, Irvine began a tirade against his ‘absent’ wife rather than praising her disappearing act. While the cloth fell, Irvine felt a drip on his head. He looked up as a torrent of fluid flooded down, hitting him foursquare in the face.
The stunned crowd stared. Into the silence that followed the drenching everyone heard Teagan’s disembodied voice.
‘Now you know what it’s like to be pissed on.’