Jackpot Jack: A London Farce - страница 3

Mike, who knew his wife Anna was a platinum blonde, shifted uncomfortably. He opened his mouth to point out the glaring flaws in Jack’s logic, to maybe suggest his friend was painting with a brush broader than the Thames, but before he could utter a word the door swung open with a flourish.

“Darling, I'm home!” a voice chirped. Anna, Mike’s wife, and a vision in sunshine-yellow, breezed into the room. She glowed with a self-satisfied smile. “You wouldn’t believe it! I’ve won!”

“Won what, love?” Mike asked, already dreading what was coming.

Anna beamed, holding up a rather gaudy trophy. “The Annual Village Erudition Competition! I knew all the answers! Beat old Professor Smith hollow! Honestly, Jack, you should have seen his face!”

Jack was in a state. Not a state like Buckingham Palace, mind you, but a right pickle. “Blast these brunettes!” he'd muttered, a phrase he repeated like a parrot with a grudge. “And bother those blondes!” He'd just witnessed Anna, that clever clogs, win the Annual Village Erudition Competition. Victory was hers, and Jack's brain felt like a scrambled egg, all thanks to the baffling brilliance of the female intellect. He bolted out of the living room faster than a startled rabbit, desperate for a bit of masculine solace.

“Men,” he declared, his voice a low mumble, “are simple. Men are straightforward.” In his mind's eye, men were like granite, unyielding and dependable. They weren't weepy willows, not them! No sir, a man would rather wrestle a badger than shed a tear. Steeled by this vision, Jack plonked himself down on a park bench, seeking refuge from the intellectual storm raging in his addled head. The sun was doing its best to peek through the clouds, painting little islands of light on the damp grass. Here and there, puddles lingered like forgotten tears of the recent rain.

Suddenly, a figure of impressive authority settled onto the bench beside him. This was a man who screamed success; his pinstripe suit practically bellowed “I mean business!” Even the lapels of his jacket seemed to stand to attention, radiating competence and a no-nonsense attitude. This was a man, Jack thought, who knew his way around a balance sheet and wouldn't flinch if you offered him a handful of nettles.