"No, no fur coat, definitely not. Have you any idea how many animals have died to provide their coats for nothing more than female vanity? You've shocked me. I never thought you'd ever sink so low as to want to parade around wearing fur."

She sighed. It had been a mistake to bring him shopping with her. She'd had no intention of asking him to buy her the coat, but had just said how nice it looked, and that she'd like to try it on, just once, to see how the other half lived. She'd forgotten just for a split second how easy it was for him to get his mouth into gear, but she soon remembered how hard it was to get him to shut it again.

As they walked past the souvenir shop in the arcade on their way back to the car, he noticed a couple of toy kittens curled up in a small basket, made in China. "Is that made of real cat fur? They do that in China you know. Gruesome!"

Having mounted his environmental hobby horse he kept flogging it all the way home in the car.

He turned on the ignition, and moved slowly out of the shopping centre's underground parking area. "In parts of Asia, they actually eat dogs. Imagine some Korean family tucking into poodle pie. How barbaric!"

She didn't answer him. He was in full swing and needed nothing more than a silent audience. She wondered what life would have been like if she'd married Ray Crombie, but she'd gone for the flashy looks instead. She supposed that with Ray, she'd at least have got a word in edgewise occasionally.

Signalling to turn left, he continued his rant. "Did you know that in Africa rhinos are shot just for the supposed aphrodisiac properties in their horns?"

Accelerating away from the lights, he informed her that back in Roman times they used to eat nightingales' tongues. "And people haven't come that far since then. Even today in fancy restaurants you can order monkey brains."

Heading down the final stretch, he gave India a serve. "And now tigers are in danger of extinction because they want bits from them for medicine, and then use their skins for rugs. Imagine walking all over such magnificent animals!"

As he slowed to turn into their driveway, he let go one last salvo. "Even you have heard all the fuss about how the Japanese slaughter whales for scientific excuses, when all they do is make whale burgers out of them."

As she entered the kitchen and put the kettle on, she could hear him, still mumbling, but she tuned out the words as she followed him mentally into the lounge room. With a self righteous sigh, he sank into the real leather lounge, and slipped off his sheepskin ugg boots, complaining that they were pinching his feet. She heard him take off his leather bikie jacket, grumbling that it was too hot. She heard his sigh of satisfaction as he loosened his leather belt a couple of notches. She'd told him not to have that extra hamburger at lunch, but did he listen to her? Did he hell as like!

"What's for dinner?" he called.

"Steak."

"Oh good, my favourite. Chips as well?"

Opening his pigskin wallet, he extracted a couple of notes, and put them on her usual seat.

"Here's some money to get some bacon and eggs for breakfast tomorrow. Might as well get a couple of sausages too, and how about a bit of black pudding for a change?"

Selfish, thoughtless prick, she thought. Why couldn't he have done that while they were out? Now she'd have to take the car out again, wasting more bloody petrol. And all because he was too stuck up to live in a more populated area, so they were too far from any public transport.

She heard the rustle of the newspaper, and there was blessed silence from his grumbling for a few minutes. Then just as she walked through the archway with the coffee cups in hand, came the explosion.

"My God! Those bastards! They're clubbing harp seal pups to death in the Arctic. Look at all the blood. Poor little buggers! Don't people have any respect for animals any more?"

And she threw his coffee all over his leather jacket.

© Sandy Parkinson, January 2007 Word count: 730