A celebration of my first 50 hubs

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Hang on, before you click away from this hub, I wanted to let you know that this is not just another hub that lists the first 50 hubs that I have created, like a link farm. No this is different. What I wanted to achieve here was to write a short story that linked to each of my 50 hubs via keywords, namely the title or theme of the individual hub. So I have tried to be creative and write an intriguing short story that was interesting but also highlighted all of my first 50 hubs. Some of the links are taken a little out of context (call this creative license) but generally I haven’t strayed too far from the individual hub theme or title.

Once again if you find the time to read this story and you think this concept is okay then please leave a comment, please let me know your thoughts.

He pressed the razor blade deep into his wrist and blood began to pool between the blade and his skin. In his mind he was contemplating how fast he would draw the blade across his wrist. Would the searing pain this caused relive his shattered soul?

“What the hell are you doing?” she screamed as she flew across the mattress and knocked the razor blade out of his hand, sending it across the concrete floor. “Do you think I’ll care about you in the end? What is so tragic about your life that you need to top yourself? Think about me for once you stupid, stupid moron!”

He slumped back onto the mattress and stared up into the warehouse rafters. He was oblivious to her ranting and raving as she crudely bandaged his bleeding wrist. How had his life become so retched, how had it come to this point? His end.

Waves of emotion washed over his greasy body. With each crash of a wave his reality was returning. His girlfriend, Tracey, was still ranting and she was slowly becoming more audible to him. One last emotional wave crashed into his thoughts and it was too much for his weak body to handle. He sat up quickly as bile race up his throat and his vomit splattered past his fingers as he tried to prevent the flow.

“Aw, shit, now look what you have done, you idiot! Don’t expect me to clean up that shit,” she screeched. She got up off the mattress that was sitting on the floor and made her way to the makeshift kitchen in the corner of the abandoned warehouse.

“I’ll fix you some breakfast Travis, what do you want? Because you know it’s a long way to the shop if you want a sausage roll,” she said as though she had just forgotten what had happened or was trying to make him forget. Breakfast was far from his mind.

“How about Australian pancakes?” Travis muttered after a few minutes.

“What do you mean Aussie pancakes?” she said bewildered.

“You said we could get out of this shithole, we could go to Egypt or as far as the Australian jungle. So then, why not make me Australian pancakes?”

“Don’t be silly, they don’t have pancakes over there, koalas perhaps, but not pancakes, besides we can’t really get there, if we could how can we understand their language we don’t speak Australian?”

“What about Egypt then, or is that a lie as well?” Travis retorted.

“It’s not a lie if we could afford it, I’ll make you a pyramid instead.”

“I’d rather a cone,” he muttered under his breath.

“What was that?”

“I said mashed potatoes would be fine,” he finished.

He flopped back onto the mattress and again stared up into the ceiling rafters. It was dark and gloomy up in that space and he decided he had enough gloom for the time being. “This place stunk,” he thought to himself. Stale urine smells and now vomit wafted past his nose. He remembered when Tracey used to make the warehouse smell like an orchard, he especially loved the smell of fresh apricots that she used to bring it. “What was she up to now?” he thought and he rotated his head to the side as he decided to watch Tracey cook for him in the kitchen.

One thing Tracey could do was cook, and she looked after him well. His favorite thing that she made him was banana bread. Sometime she added special ingredients to the mixture, but he didn’t like this all the time because it made him paranoid.

Mostly he like her surprise dishes that she made him. He had no idea where she got the ingredients or how she could afford them. He didn’t really worry too much about this as he was woofing down the food she made. He loved her curried prawn dish but he knew that she must have done something illegal to afford the seafood.

Yes his Tracey was his savior and he wished he could repay her back for looking after him. He watched her dance around the kitchen chasing boiling pots and looking for clean knives. Her ass wiggled as she rinsed off some dirty dishes in the sink. He loved watching her as she was his love.

He wished he could help by fixing up this old warehouse into the home that she desired. The wall needed painting, the cupboard doors hung crooked off their hinges, paper and crap was beginning spill out into the hallways. Basil grew out of the cracks in the warehouse pavement from when she used to grow their own herbs. He wished it was marijuana.

As Tracey made her way back to the mattress with his food her eyes picked up on a foreign object which was lying in the shadows of the bed. She picked it up in her free hand because she thought it was a cigarette wrapper or some other rubbish. “What the hell is this?” she asked, knowing fully well what it was.

From her finger tips hung a spent condom (luckily, right way up). She threw his hot plate of mashed potato at the concrete wall opposite the bed. Thousand of splinters of china speared off into the darkness as the mash stuck nicely to the wall.

“You good for nothing, cheating, son of a bitch!” she screamed. This time she was enraged.

“That’s not mine, honey,” Travis pleaded.

“Don’t honey me, you mongrel” she continued. Travis knew he wasn’t going to get much of a defensive retaliation. “You did this when I was out! I was only gone for a couple of days and you get your end into some whore.”

“Honestly love, it was Simon. He visited the other night and he brought some chick with him. Both of them were high as a kite. He needed to use this mattress so as a mate how could I refuse.” Travis explained.

“You would have to be out of your brain to let Simon use our bed! Do you want to give me crabs!” she yelled. “And I am supposed to believe this story, knowing you haven’t seen Simon for ages?

“Like I said, he came in here smashed.” Travis said.

“Look, I need to get out of here, I need some air, I don’t know when I’ll be back,” she said. He had heard this many times. Before he could get up she had snatched her handbag and slammed the main door behind her.

Travis lay there bewildered. He was honest with her and he still couldn’t convince her of his innocence. He thought about scraping the mashed potato off the wall but thought that the mould stain it would leave might make for an interesting wall mural.

The main door to the warehouse opened and woke Travis from his slumber. “Look, I am sorry honey,” he said before he could see her.

“I am not sorry, Travis,” the girl said cheekily.

“Oh, Simons date,” exhaled Travis.

“Don’t be so excited to see me, oh and I am not exclusive to Simon,” she said and with that she straddled Travis waist with her thighs, pinning him down.

“Get off me, Tracey will be back any minute!” he demanded.

“Well she isn’t here now,” she said and she slid back to release some pressure so that he could half sit up.

“Why get upset, “honey”,” she mocked, “you seemed to enjoy the show last night.”

“I wasn’t watching, I was out of it after those few hits, remember?” he retaliated.

“I left my purse here last night,” she said, changing the subject.

“Well it’s not on me,” Travis said sarcastically.

“But you could be in my purse,” she said, and with that she slipped her top over her head and exposed her bare breasts to him. Travis was instantly gob smacked. His heart raced. What if Tracey came back now!

Veronica’s breasts stood pert and upright as they faced the rafters that Travis had been admiring earlier. You could see her ribs and a very colourful tattoo spread across the top of her chest. It snaked its way between her breasts.

“Look, I like a chick with tattoos but did you know where to stop this one?” he said.

“What? Don’t you like it?” she asked.

“Did you really need this tattoo?” he asked.

“Listen ‘ear, I think it’s sexy,” she replied, “Should I order pizza or do I go and get kebabs with tabouli?” she said trying a different tact.

“What’s with all this food? Anyone would think I had the munchies”

“Honey, after you’ve finished doing me you’ll need to get your energy back somehow,” Veronica cheekily replied.

“My Tracey will be back any minute, get off of me,” he ordered.

“Wow, I can hear the cupids singing, what is it Valentine’s day or something? Now take off your pants and surprise me.”

“I am not interested,” Travis’ patience was wearing thin.

“I think you are cute, and I wanna root. Hey that’s a rhyme I just made up!” she said.

Veronica grabbed between his legs for his stick of fun, “I don’t mean to quickly draw your attention to the obvious, but I think someone here is interested, you horny little devil.”

He was up shit creek because it was true as his little Christmas helper was harder than a morning glory.

“I need to wash your ball sweat off my hands, where is your bathroom?”

“Gross!” Travis exclaimed.

“Well it’s not like chocolate body paint that I could like it off my fingers,” Veronica explained.

“The shithouse is over there, and don’t use all the toilet paper,” he demanded.

It only seemed like moments after Veronica was out of site when the main warehouse door opened and Tracey walked back in. “Jesus, hope that skank stays hidden!” Travis thought. Tracy made her way over to where Travis was, still lying on the mattress.

“Before you say anything, I want to get this off my chest,” Tracey said. “We’ve been together for fifty days, and I know we both found each other in a time of need, but it’s over,” Tracey paused as tears started to welt in her eyes. “You’re like a human anchor for me, I can’t keep going on like this,” she continued.

“Look I can fix your broken heart, what the hell am I supposed to do?” Travis pleaded.

“Pigs ass you can fix my heart, it needed clearing out a long time ago, our love sailed away on a boat called trouble long ago,” Tracey said cryptically.

“You’re not making sense, Tracey,” he said, “What can I do to save this?”

“For one, I hate your body movements, this is our only bed and the fart sounds that you produce are woeful,” she said as she tried to find any little reason to hate him. “Why do you have to fart in bed?” she asked, “This is our only place of rest and you have to ruin it most nights!”

She thought this was too petty and decided to get to the point. “You need to curb your addictions. They will eventually kill you,” Tracey hit the nail on the head. Travis’s life was spiraling out of control and he needed to stop his substance abuse. He needed Tracey to help him to do this.

“But you need to help me do this,” Travis said.

“I’ve tried, I brought you fruit, I try to cook you healthy meals, I’ve even hidden your stash on you,” she explained. “Your life needs a shake up, you need a montage or something, but I can’t be here any longer to watch you slowly die.”

Travis rolled over and faced away from Tracey. His heart was crushed. Before he could stop her, Tracey had once again left the warehouse, this time she slammed the door. Travis held back his own tears.

His life was as neat as a pin before the accident, before he lost his kids and his eternal love, his wife in that car crash. Worst of all, Tracey had needed his love in the beginning just a badly as Travis needed her care because of his crippled legs. Tracey had her own hard luck life story and they had met at just the right time in the hospital ward. Where was it all going to end up now?

Just as Travis was ready to try and pick up his body and load himself into his wheelchair he heard stirring from the direction of the bathroom. “Is Little Tommy Tucker ready for some action?” Veronica asked as she slinked from the bathroom, fully naked.