Tales of humour, whimsy and courgettes
“There are only two ways off this roof,” said Lucy.
Gerald peered over the edge at the stained concrete below.
He knew he wasn’t the first man given this choice.
He knew he wouldn’t be the last man given this choice.
And he knew, all the others would have made the decision as quick and easy as he had.
Ooo, sound effects! Crunchy.
“New book?” asked Yuffie.
“Yeah,” replied Hydra. “Struggling to get into it.”
“What is it?” asked Yuffie.
“Collins Thesaurus,” replied Hydra. “Nothing to write house about.”
Yuffie grimaced.
“I didn’t rate Thesaurus either,” pipped in Red. “I got forty pages in and not one dinosaur.”
“Let’s have a look at that,” said Yuffie, inspecting the bottle’s label.
“Good stuff,” pointed out Marge.
“Jeez, Marge,” gasped Yuffie, “that’s some old whiskey.”
“I know,” replied Marge. “I just like my whiskey like I like my women.”
“Aye?” asked Yuffie.
“Twice my age and from Scotland,” grinned Marge.
“Another text?” asked Yuffie.
“Yeah,” grumbled Lucy.
“That must have been twenty in five minutes,” pondered Yuffie. “Who’re they all from?”
“My ex,” sighed Lucy.
Fuen looked over Lucy’s shoulder. “They all say ‘wish you were here…’”
“Yep,” grumbled Lucy. “She always sends them when she’s walking through a graveyard.”
Sprite stepped out of the Posh Nosh restaurant elevator. “Have a good day son,” said the lift operator.
“Don’t call me son,” grumbled Sprite. “You ain’t my dad.”
“Well, no,” pondered the lift operator. “But I brought you up didn’t I?”
“I tell ya, man,” said Sprite, “my new job’s so hard.”
“What is it?” asked Red.
“Professional dog walker,” replied Sprite.
“Ah,” pondered Red. “I would have thought it was a walk in the park.”
“Excuse me,” called Marge, rubbing her eyes.
“Yes, ma’am?” replied Officer.
“Officer…” Marge bleated, squinting at his name tag. “Doohickey… Why am I here?”
“For drinking ma’am,” replied Officer.
“Ah, goodo,” replied Marge, leaning against the bars. “When do we begin?”
“Lucy,” cheered Spiders, “long time no see.”
“Hello, Spiders,” sighed Lucy.
“Oh dear,” said Spiders. “You sound glum. Something up?”
“Just been to the doctor,” grumbled Lucy. “She told me I was going to die soon.”
“My word,” gasped Spider. “Did she say what of?”
“No,” pondered Lucy. “But I think she’s realised I’m sleeping with her wife.”
“I tell ya,” sighed Mabel, “if I had a pound everytime someone said your name sounds old…”
“It’s quite an old name though,” pointed out Polykeet.
“Well, yes, but I’m not that old,” grumbled Mabel. “Sometimes it’s enough to give me a bit of an existential crisis.”
“Ah,” replied Ploykeet. “Now if I had a pound for every time I had an existential crisis…”
Mabel was aware of a pause and turned to a drooping Polykeet.
“I’d know the true value of the bleak absurdity of life,” cried Polykeet.
“Good grief Lucy,” sighed Yuffie.
“Look,” moaned Lucy, “only a few of them died.”
“Turning them against each other like that just wiped out the entire performing arts department,” groaned Yuffie.
“Well, yes,” sighed Lucy. “Look, this sort of thing happens all the time.”
“Mimes killing mimes isn’t a regular occurrence,” declared Yuffie.
“Yes it is,” replied Lucy. “You just don’t hear about it.”
Little Fears 