The White Elephant

From the minute he saw her, he knew he was in love. Beautiful and intelligent, she was a rare combination that any man would have been proud of. Just weeks after their first meeting, he had proposed to her and a few months later they were married. He still couldn't believe his luck as he stood at the altar - organ playing that oh so popular tune - and waited for her to appear. It was then, as they both stood at the altar and the priest droned on, that he made a promise to himself: Nothing would ever be too good for her.

What was perhaps more astonishing was the degree with which he managed to live up to it. He spent a fortune and got a house in a nice part of town, with the white picket fence and the entire package. If she sneezed he would rush to the nearest doctor and drag him back home. There was obviously no question of her working, unless she wanted to, of course. But she didn't, so that was ok. And as for the housework, the three hired maids were busy at work as she lounged on the sofa and watched the telly.

Twenty years passed in pretty much the same way. The comfort of her life had taken its toll: obese, she had now lost most of the beauty she had once possessed. As he returned home one night after a gruelling day's work, to find not even the slightest glimmer of recognition in her eyes, he stood at the door and for the first time in twenty years actually looked at her. He saw her sprawled out on the sofa, fat and fair, like some great albino pachyderm - lacking all that he had once married her for. And as he did, he suddenly realised that there was nothing that he wanted to do more than get rid of her. But there was nothing that he could do less.