Oi! Did you hear?
What do you make of it then?
Must be true.
But that can’t be right.
I think it can.
You know Valerie?
You know her son?
You heard me.
Oh, you mean that goldfish.
What of it?
Well, you know snowy?
He had his eyes on that goldfish.
Well Valerie was out that day.
I still don’t get it.
Well, you know the son has toys.
You mean the duck?
Yup, the toy duck.
You don’t say.
Old snowy wasn’t that stupid.
Choked to death did he?
That’s what the vet says.
Poor dog, I feel sorry for him.
The storm subsided. The tornado moved on. Like all things in this world, it has come to an end. Life is beautiful once more …
Now, that the accursed annuals are behind me, the grass is greener, the air sweeter and when I’m not sweating like a pig, the sun almost symbolizes hope. Freedom, sudden and absolute. Its a divine feeling. One you can’t compare.
I’m cheery. I am cheery. No, you do not understand. I am cheery.
All. The. Time. Which is not like me. Oh no, not like me at all. But that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Because “me” isn’t all that high a standard to begin with.
Although thinking long term, maybe the not-like-me thing I’ve got going right now isn’t all that perfect. I’ll have to stop before I say something so stupid, something so incredibly cheesy, so nauseatingly corny that whole new levels of cheesiness would have to be defined – because that’s the feeling I have.
There. Now wasn’t that like me?
“Uh, very well. I’ll see you at the dining table, young master.”
If you haven’t choked on your own vomit by then.
“Miss Hilary! How absolutely lovely you could join us at the table. The sheep’s ready for you.”
Now they do.
“O Hi daddy!”
“Hi there sweetie pie!”
“Daddy, Daddy! why does Mr. K works for us? He’s so weird.”
Because daddy is a fart and a sissie who doesn’t know how to say no.
“Now Now, honey, he’s not weird.”
“I don’t want you thinking like that, sweetie pie. It’s wrong. You hear me? wrong.”
Says the man with weed in his underwear.
“And besides, he’s new to the trade, so I’m helping him out.
I beg to differ.
“Molly? Finally, where have you been all this time?”
“The kitchen, cleaning dishes.”
“Well, I’m hungry. What’s for dinner?”
Limbs with a hint of blood and peppermint.
What did I say …
“Mr K if you would be kind enough to STOP EFFIN’ DAYDREAMING AND SERVE THE GODDAMN DINNER!!”
“Right away, master Henry.”
“Daddy, what does effin mean?”
“Nothing honey, just an expression of anger.”
“Hey there, Dad, Mom, Sis.”
“You are effin late Jeremy!”
“Dinner has been served!”
“What’s up with Hil? Wait, never mind, what’s for dinner?
“Flesh, young master. Cut to fine pieces by a butcher’s knife after the gruesome death and consequent beheading of some lamb unfortunate enough to be healthy and alive and in the same district as the young master’s unholy being.
… Too much?
33 words to follow up the prompt. It wasn’t the first time. So here goes.
It wasn’t the first time. She knew what to do. Caressing the length of the rope, she felt the leather. Her fingers twitched.
One whip. Two whip.
Ten whips score
One whip. Two whip.
But one too many
Edit: I, seriously don’t have a clue as to how to reply to the comments below. I mean … I just don’t know what to say … anything and everything will be weird.