Clobber Head

Ron Koppelberger

Clobber Head

She wasn’t belittled by the instincts of a damaged husband and an amazing relationship in troth, she stood her ground and waved her finger at the towering visage. He stood over eight feet tall and weighed at least four hundred pounds, she was slight at one hundred pounds and five fiery feet of defiance.
“Clobber head, clobber head!” her giant husband screamed at her. His lips quivered and tiny sprays of froth dripped from the corners of his mouth. “Clobber head, clobber head!” he yelled again as he took aim at her. She continued to stand her ground in unbending resistance to the shouts and screams of her giant husband. He clenched his fist and raised it above his head . “CLLLLLLOOOOOOBBBBBEEERRRRRR HEEEEEEAAAAAAAD!” he screamed as he swung his fist. She stepped sideways as his hulking figure bore down on her in a furious rage. “Clobber head!” he grunted missing her delicate head by a wide sweep that threw him off balance.
“CLOOOOBBBBEEERRRR HHHHEEEAAADDDDD, CLLOOOBBBEEERRR HEEEAD!” he yelled again as he swung in a spinning arc of anger. She laughed and kicked him in the seat of the pants, squarely on the rump. “Clooobbber Heeead?” he questioned. In that instant she saw sunshine and rain, babies and gentle flows of light, a great revelation done in hues of azure and silver, by skies revolving she knew the angels and the heavens, the wonder of perfect patience and loving whispers of tender embrace, the soul of a protector.
He was simple, nevertheless she loved him and her devotion bordered on the divine. She spoke calm and took care to sooth his aggression. “Silence sweet giant.”
In days to come she would find the strength to continue caring, taking solace in his shadow, the shadow of a giant.