Pet Peeves - GBE2 prompt

Alison strode into the teachers lounge. Her position as part-time librarian didn't actually give her the right, but no-one had yet found enough courage to argue with her. The collective staff winced when the substitute teacher for 6B chirped;

“Morning, Ali.”

She stopped, stared, spoke, frost dripping from her words.

“My name is Alison. Over-familiar shortening of names is one of my pet peeves.”

The sub subsided, the entire room wishing they could help him disappear into the faded and patched upholstery. More than one had been on the end of Alison's pet peeve list. They understood. Only a couple noticed the barely-there pop from somewhere behind her right shoulder.

Later, bulling her way to the front of the dinner queue, no excuses made, Alison stared at the gravy on her mash. It almost seemed that it was slinking around her plate, trying to hide under the peas in its shame.

“What is this?” she demanded of the trainee behind the counter.

“Gravy?” offered the trainee, unaware of her imminent need to to anywhere but there.

“This, young lady, is made from...” Alison shuddered, her nose literally turning up at the brown goo on her plate, “Granules!”

“Erm...”

The trainee looked around desperately for help, but everyone seemed suddenly occupied, an unnatural silence having fallen over the kitchen and dining hall.

“As you seem ill-equipped to deal with this problem, I expect a replacement meal, with real gravy, or a ticket for a free meal should this 'caff'” a word deposited in the air with venom, “ever serve anything I can actually eat!”

A senior cook finally took pity on the girl, ushered her out back and wrote an IOU for Alison. This she waved under the nose of the woman behind her, who promptly stepped back and nearly knocked the entire line over like so many dominoes.

“Everyone knows granule gravy is one of my pet peeves!”

With that the SS Alison sailed forth to do battle with recalcitrant teens in the library. The faint pop in the air close to her departing frame was assumed to be a door hinge by the people sitting nearby.

On the bus home Alison stared fixedly at a young man sitting beneath her right armpit as she clung to a hanging strap. With no seats left, Alison had been forced to stand. In her mind, the spotty yob should have instantly been on his feet and offering a lady a seat. His refusal to do so both baffled and angered her. Staring didn't seem to be doing the trick. Probably due to the ridiculous plug things in his ears. They were issuing a muffled beat and that strange hissing static which is common to every set of headphones in the world. Alison poked him with her perfectly rolled umbrella.

“You there, turn that racket down. You're annoying the other passengers. That noise is a pet peeve of mine”

Everyone on the bus found somewhere far more interesting to look, not one so much as nodding in agreement. The lad looked up, shrugged and fiddled with something in his jacket. The sounds receded, but his instant retreat into closed eyes and the fact that his rear was still firmly planted on 'her' seat drove Alison forward. She prodded him again.

“Did your parents forget to teach you manners? Stand up and offer me your seat!”

The young man blushed vermilion, scurried out of the seat and weaved through the crowd to the front of the bus, the driver giving him a compassionate look and opening the doors to let him off. Alison sat with a satisfied thump and addressed the bus in general.

“Rude youths. One of my pet peeves you know.”

The two little pops were presumed to be the air brakes.

Alison approached her gate, unaware of neighbours running for cover, and frowned. Her evening newspaper lay in the grass.

“Honestly” she muttered to the empty street, “Why can't the boy open the gate and put it through the letterbox? Laziness, sheer laziness. A pet peeve of mine.”

She was sure she heard a faint pop when she turned the key in the lock.

Pet peeves seemed to plague her for the rest of the night. The children next door screamed and shrieked for hours.

“Why don't their parents stop them gallivanting about under that sprinkler and make them behave?” she asked, bewildered by the laughter and screaming from the adjacent lawn, “Bad parenting and unruly behaviour. Pet peeves of mine.”

Pop. Pop.

She shared a bathroom with her lodger. The elderly lady paid her rent regularly and kept to herself, but she irritated Alison far too often. Entering the bathroom , she noted the towel was hung back on the rail... upside down. A pet peeve. Pop. The toothpaste tube had been squeezed in the middle. Another pet peeve. The empty toilet roll sat on the holder, a newly started one balanced on top of it. Pet peeve in abundance. Pop. Alison flopped into bed, exhausted by the refusal of the world to conform to her standards and slipped into sleep.

She came awake with a start, clutched her chest, tried to scream in pain and couldn't. A few seconds later she felt decidedly fuzzy, but the pain was gone. A young man appeared at her bedside. How dare he?! She was about to make her presence felt when he held out his hand.

“Come with me, Alison.”

“Excuse me? I will do no such thing.”

“I'm sorry, Alison, but you really must.”

Alison began to protest and then noticed something very strange. Despite the fact that she was standing on the floor, her feet were hovering about a foot above the pale green carpet. She noticed crumbs on the rug. The cleaner skimping again. That woman really got her pet peeves going!

The pop was much louder, Alison startling, leaping away from the bed and noticing her body was still in it, mouth hanging open in an unlovely gape, hand clutched about one wizened breast. Two questions came to mind immediately. She looked at the young man, pale, immaculately clean, unlined, freshly-minted even.

“I'm dead, aren't I?”

He nodded.

“What was that noise?”

“Allow me to show you.”

He once more offered his hand. Alison took it gingerly. People's lack of hygiene was a pet peeve of hers.

The pop was truly colossal. Alison actually thought a rocket had been fired by her ear. She clung to the young man as they approached a pale door which appeared to be formed from light. As they stepped across the threshold the young man smiled gently.

“Welcome to your Limbo room, Alison. A representative of the Beyond will be with you in due time.”

Somewhere behind her Alison heard a cough. The sort of cough that didn't have a hand over it. A pet peeve... Pop....

The young man was stepping back through the door. She rushed after him but the door refused her attempts to get through.

“How long will this person be?” she called after him.

“As long as it takes.” came the fading voice.

She hated people who didn't give you a proper answer. It was a pet...

She clamped a hand over her mouth. No pop. That was good. Things suddenly felt a lot clearer. Advancing into the brilliance of the room, she began to understand that her life may not have been the upstanding success she had believed it to be. Someone sneezed to her left, a man stepping out of the light with a dripping nose and no hanky. A young man bopped into her field of vision, his Ipod turned up, static hissing wildly. A young child came toward her, filthy hand extended, smiling, calling, 'Ali, Ali, Ali. Play mud castles with me, Ali'.

A voice sounded softly from somewhere above, in the invisible. Ancient, wise, gentle but firm. Severe and yet filled with barely contained joy.

“People who waste their lives are a pet peeve of mine, Ali”

Ali began to scream.