JK Fowler

“Let’s change it to yellow. You always liked yellow, right?” He doesn’t care what color they change it to. All he knows is the wallpaper needs to go according to his wife, it’s his one day off a week from work and they are standing with a balding dinosaur of a man, three snow-white hairs combed over to the side, yellowed teeth and a propensity to coughing without covering his mouth.

“Then again, we could choose rose-petal pink or sunset orange. Hey, either one of those would go great with the shower curtain in the bathroom!” He looks to his wrist. He forgot to wear a watch today, decides to look up through Wallie’s Walls and More’s greasy windows to the indigo sky above, locate the sun, stare into it in the hopes that his retinas will burst into flames and he will get transported far away to an all-white room where a nurse will bring him pre-chewed trays of food, his daily medications, will kiss him tenderly on the forehead and life will be good.

“Then again, really, how often do we use the bathroom? Most of the time you are using the one at work and I am constantly in and out of the house. But this forest green one over here would go fabulously with our living room, don’t you think? And we spend most of our time there, don’t we?” Her mouth moves with the speed of caffeinated mongoose. He watches it, imagines it hurling off its hinges, plopping sloppy onto the shag carpet below, chasing the salesmen and women down the dusty hallways of this wood-paneled, 60’s remnant of a store in the dregs of their fine city.

“The thing is, once we buy it there’s no going back, you know? I mean, we put it up and that’s it! Right, I mean, we can’t buy samples of all these colors. That would be crazy, wouldn’t it?” He nods his head. Yes, it would be crazy and yes, he doesn’t want to be doing this. And while you’re asking, yes I don’t think we ever had anything in common and shouldn’t have gotten married that one weekend back in the 70’s when we were both stoned out of our minds and looking for a dare.

“Sir, if you had to choose between Lime Vine or Gold Stripe for a bedroom, what would you choose? Think hard about it cause we’re the ones that will have to live with it!” She cackles, nudges the elderly salesman who morosely pulls the skin hanging from under his chin. “And you too! Think about those two and tell me which one you would choose!”  He thinks of a few means of escape: 1) Fall to the floor and fake a seizure for the second time this month; 2) Go to the bathroom. Never come back; or 3) Attack the old man, get arrested and pay someone in country prison to stick a shiv in him. He starts eying the old man, gauging his weak points, decides upon the knees.

“No, come to think of it, I don’t like any of these. They all seem to say, ‘Boring’. We need something with a bit more pizzaz. Let’s come back next week. Will you have new stock in next week?” The decrepit man nods. Yes, they will have new stock.

As she yanks her husband’s hand and pulls him out of the store, he locks eyes with the wallpaper peddler. Behind the cataracts he senses fear. One day soon he will make his move.