No one ever noticed Miriam until the day Mrs. Wrasse spied her coming home with a merman.
“What on earth is that?!” demanded Miriam’s elderly neighbor.
Beaming, Miriam heaved a sinuous male figure out the trunk of her car. He had a brilliant red mullet, sculptured abs, and a long, shiny tale that ended in an elaborate set of fins. “Isn’t he gorgeous?” she bubbled to her neighbor. “He’s a metallic red fantail! I picked him up at the pet store this morning.”
“The pet store?”
“Well yes.” Miriam tottered to her front door, the merman thrown over her shoulder in a fireman’s hold. “I’ve been a bit lonely lately, so I decided I needed some company.”
“But a merman?”
Miriam shrugged. “I have to get him inside now before he dries out.”
With that, Miriam and the merman disappeared into the house. The moment the front door closed, Mrs. Wrasse rushed home and invited her friends over for tea.
Mrs. Tunney stood in Mrs. Wrasse’s living room and peered through a pair of binoculars at Miriam’s house. “That poor girl hasn’t been the same since her husband left.”
“You got that right.” Mrs. Tang wrestled the field glasses away from her best friend. “There was definitely something fishy about their divorce. What’s this merman’s name, anyway?”
Mrs. Wrasse tapped the window. “Herman, I think.”
“Herman the Merman? That’s original. Oh! They’re in the bedroom!”
“Let me see!” Mrs. Tunney shoved Mrs. Tang aside and set her sights on the open second story window. “Oh my! Well that part isn’t scaly at all, is it?”
The ensuing brawl over the binoculars was so loud that Miriam heard it in her bedroom next door. She didn’t care though. Herman lay beneath her on the waterbed, his sleek tail undulating against her pubis. His cock sprang rigid from its sheath of scales and Miriam pumped it with her fist until it sprayed foam against her naked breasts. Then she straddled Herman’s face to surf the swelling crest of her own orgasm until the motion of the ocean rocked her body and she came screaming at the top of her lungs.
Much to the scandalized delight of Mrs. Wrasse and her friends, Miriam stayed in the waterbed with Herman for the next seven days. When she finally came up for air, the whole town was awash in gossip and rumors.
“Lock up your husbands, girls. Here comes Miriam trawling for a real man.”
“As opposed to that half-man freak? Tell her to go fish.”
“Speaking of fish, guess what she smells like?”
“Ha! Probably tastes like it too.”
No one ever said these things to Miriam’s face. They all smiled at her and pretended to be nice. But as soon as she turned her back, they circled around like sharks in the water… all except her best friend Wanda.
“Don’t listen to those fishwives,” Wanda told a sobbing Miriam. “They’re just jealous because you got a fine piece of tail waiting for you at home.”
“But they’re so… so… mean!”
“Let them carp all they want. You go home to Herman and wrestle like eels on speed. You’ll feel better, I promise.”
Wanda was such a good friend, Miriam thought, and Herman liked her too. So when Miriam had to go out of town, naturally she asked Wanda to look after her merman while she was away.
“This is a mistake,” Mrs. Wrasse said as she watched Miriam drive off.
“Big mistake,” Mrs. Tunney agreed as Wanda entered the house.
“Damn, the bedroom blinds just closed.” Mrs. Tang frowned. “Wonder what’s going on in there?”
“You have to ask?” the others replied.
Three days later, Miriam came home. She went into the house and up the stairs and found Wanda in the waterbed with Herman.
“What are you doing?!” Miriam shrieked.
Wanda lifted her head from Herman’s lap. “It’s Friday and I’m Catholic. What do you think I’m doing?”
Five minutes later, Wanda ran screaming from the house. Mrs. Wrasse called the police. When they arrived, they discovered Miriam in the bathroom with Herman.
“Miss?” a detective pulled a filleting knife from Miriam’s trembling hand. “Could you tell me why there’s a dead merman floating belly up in your tub?”
She grabbed a wad of toilet paper and dabbed hopelessly at her streaming eyes. “The bastard was too big to flush down the toilet!”
© 2008 Helen E. H. Madden. All rights reserved. Content may not be copied or used in whole or part without written permission from the author.