note: apologies to Alfred Schnittke.
end of a golden generation
‘I have, do, and will always love you’, whispered the old man to his wife, as they sat in front of a cheering crowd of friends and family, a garden field of faces beaming bright as the sun rays setting on the freshly cut country club lawn, the bunting above their heads fluttering in the face of a light breeze.
‘I know,’ the wife replied. ‘But is love enough?’
‘Huh?’
The woman turned to her husband and repeated the question into his wide eyes. ‘Is it enough?’ She gestured at their surroundings: white satin tablecloths decorated with heart-shaped confetti and elaborate floral arrangements, waiters buzzing about, pushing vol-au-vents on to any and every empty plate, and a small orchestra soundtracking the whole affair. ‘Are we happy to have all this to show, for our love?’
Her husband looked lost. ‘Where on earth has all this come from?’
At that moment, a waiter carrying a box buzzed over to their table. He laid it carefully beside a barely-used-but-often-polished sterling silver knife and server set, and when he was satisfied he’d attracted enough attention by his flamboyant antics, he lifted the lid proudly to reveal the occasion showpiece: a cake marking the couple’s fiftieth anniversary.
However, the grand reveal was undercut by a small wave of titters which quietly rippled through the crowd on seeing the piped blue icing that read:
“Congratulations to the olden couple.”
The olden couple. The olden couple. It was technically correct, but then what fifty-year celebrants of marriage want to be reminded of what they really are?
The wife jerked away from the offending dessert, as though it were brought to poison her. ’Look at that! The bakery spelt our anniversary title wrong! Take it away, waiter,’ she shrieked.
Before the boy could react, her husband darted forward, waving his right hand with the air of a circuit judge: once to dismiss him, twice to calm the situation. ‘It’s not a big deal, darling,’ he said.
‘Not a big deal?’ She spun around to face her lifelong beloved, body heaving with rage. ‘We only get one day like this in our lives and you think it’s not a big deal?’
‘That’s not what I meant –’
‘I know what you meant! I’ve known for fifty years!’
She picked up the knife beside the cake and pointed it at where the letter ‘g’ was meant to be. ‘If this isn’t a big deal to you, then perhaps you can find something else worth your time!’
She heard gasps and screams as she sunk the blade into her side, but her eyes failed her before she could see them.
end of a golden generation.png