Tales of humour, whimsy and courgettes
“Here,” said Fuen. “Let me see that.”
Yuffie handed over her laptop. Fuen began tinkering.
“What’s the problem?” asked Reala.
“My laptop won’t take my password,” sighed Yuffie.
“What’s your password?” asked Fuen.
“Beefstew,” replied Yuffie.
“It’s probably not stroganoff,” pointed out Reala.
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Yuffie walked in trailing white paint behind her.
“Yuffie!” gasped Reala, putting newspaper down on the floor around her.
“Oh sorry,” said Yuffie. “I thought I’d give fingerpainting a go this morning.”
“How did that go?” grumbled Reala, reaching for the mop.
“Awful,” sighed Yuffie. “Took me eight hours to do the skirting boards.”
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“How’s your afternoon going?” asked Fuen.
“Not bad,” said Reala. “I think I have invented a new flavour of crisps.”
“Oh really?” asked Fuen.
“Yep,” replied Reala, holding out some hot dog flavoured crisps. “Combining British crisps with an American flavour.”
“Nice,” said Fuen. “If they’re popular you’re gonna make a packet.”
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Capricorn (ep. 82)
He looked at the cage. He hated that rabbit. It’s white fur and ruby-red eyes. They burned in the dark. Most children his age liked Easter. He hated it. He knew what happened to the neighbour’s cat last year. He wondered if his parents knew. Probably not, they were too busy out drinking at that bar. He heard the latch coming loose on the hutch. He watched the rabbit as it left the room on tonight’s hunt. Easter bunnies should be feared.
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For this weeks #Colour_Collective. Wasps… Nope… Nothing to say or see here. Arse dagger wielding little feckers.
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Fuen stormed through the doors.
“Oh dear,” said Reala, “need rum?”
“Yes please,” said Fuen. “Make it a double.”
“What’s up?” asked Reala.
“The chicklets,” sighed Fuen. “You know they said I was old and out of touch because I didn’t know who Professor Green was.”
“Ah,” replied Reala, sliding Fuen a drink.
“Little gits,” moaned Fuen. “Of course I know who he is. I’ve been playing Cluedo for years.”
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Do you have a fear of dark dank caves? It’s probably justified. Continued love for the Faber Castell PITT artist pens.
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“Oh, heck no,” shouted Reala. “We do not serve time travellers in here!”
Just then, a time traveller walked into the bar.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” she said, “could I have a drink.”
Reala caught her breath.
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“Good evening, Moons,” said Reala, answering the phone.
“Hello Reala, it’s Alpaca,” said Alpaca.
“Oh no,” sighed Reala. “What now?”
“Just letting you know, I’ve set up a telephone hotline,” said Alpaca. “You can call me for spiritual teachings and lessons.”
“Really?” said Reala, bracing herself.
“Yeah,” said Alpaca. “Dial-a-llama…”
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Capricorn (ep. 81)
He noticed a peculiar crack across the bar top. About four inches long, shaped like a Cheshire cat’s grin.
“Barman!” he shouted again. The service was as bad as the health and safety record.
The plaster on the wall had a crack too. About two feet long, grinning sideways like the bar top’s crack.
He made a note that the building was dilapidated. He would see this place closed.
A creak of wood and he noticed another crack. Under his feet, six feet long, opening like a Cheshire cat’s grin.
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Little Fears 