Kitty got up and went to answer it.
“FedEx, Ma’am, I’ve got a package for Frank Melham. Will you sign?”
Kitty looked down at the large rectangular package.
“It looks like a picture.”
“I don’t know, Ma’am, I just deliver.”
Kitty thanked the man, took the package indoors and leaned it against the wall.
“I wonder what it could be?” she asked herself. “Could it possibly be the painting Frank and I saw at the gallery the other day?”
Curious, she fetched a pair of scissors from a drawer in the Chippendale table which stood in the hall alcove and began to snip carefully through the wrapping. As the paper slid off the back she noticed a length of electrical cord and a plug-in. Excited, she wondered if it was for a light.
As the last of the paper was removed, she turned the painting and gazed in horror at the large three-dimensional picture of Elvis Presley against a backdrop of black velvet! In his hands he held his guitar and there were those terrible sideburns!
“Damn you Frank! How could you insult me like that!”
She grabbed the cord and plugged it into a nearby wall socket. All of a sudden
Elvis’s face lit up as he started singing, You Ain’t Nothin But a Hound Dog. But worst of all, his pelvis began gyrating!
Kitty yanked out the cord. Tears of anger and frustration rolled down her cheeks. “I’ll fix you Elvis!” she shouted.
*
That night, Kitty slipped out of the Melham house carrying a bulky bundle. Stealthily, she crossed the quiet road and headed towards the river. Glancing around to make sure no one was about, Kitty left the road and headed towards a short pathway leading to the water. Reaching the rocky shore, she dropped the bundle and stood there breathing heavily. After pausing a minute to catch her breath, she bent down, opened the bundle and began hurling its contents into the water. As Kitty watched the last of the contents float away into the night, a smile of satisfaction crossed her face. “So long Elvis,” she said, as she turned and headed back to the house, thinking that a warm bath and a cup of cocoa would be just the thing.
As Kitty re-entered the house, her cell phone rang. It was Frank.
“Hi honey, sorry to call so late but the meeting dragged on far too long. Tell me, was a parcel delivered today?”
“A parcel? Why ye-es, there was.”
“Great! Don’t open it ‘til I get home.”
There was a pause. “What is it?”
“Something you will both hate and love. You know Christie’s Auction House? They’re interested in this piece. Apparently, It’s very valuable—the only one of its kind ever made.”
“Oh!” Kitty replied faintly.
“Well, goodnight dearest. Sleep well. I can’t wait to get home tomorrow.”
THE END
