Tales of humour, whimsy and courgettes
“Nearly there,” grinned Lucy. “And who’s this?”
“My window cleaner,” grimaced George.
“Thought he was banging your wife right?” said Lucy.
“I thought so, yes,” sighed George.
“Thought so?” asked Lucy. “Shame you changed your mind after he’d taken a tumble through the sixth-floor window.”
The window cleaner squirted Windowlene into Georges’ face and gave him a buff and shine.
“Oh and look at all the glass stuck in his backside,” laughed Lucy. “Hey, I bet that’s a right pane in the arse!”
“Up, up, up,” said Lucy, pulling him up to the next floor.
George stumbled through the door. “My god, this is my old kitchen,” he pondered.
“Ah, the wifey loved this room,” said Lucy. “ She was lovely wasn’t she?”
George glared at Lucy. “She tells me the kitchen table was the first place you two did the business.”
“She’s not…” muttered George.
“Here?” grinned Lucy. “Of course. She’s still in the pantry.”
A moan came from behind the door, George retreated to the stairwell.
“Do you know, the first time I had sex was with my first missus was in her parents’ kitchen,” sighed Lucy. “’This is awkward,’ she said. ‘Just ignore them’ I replied.”
The pantry door burst open, Georges wife emerged wielding her kitchen utensils.
This story originally came from some darker puns between Lucy and Yuffies meeting in the Grey Moon that felt out of context in that storyline. By Spectres beard, I just ain’t feeling it this week, though! Not happy with the quality of writing, humour or story. And I’ve ended up not using the original puns. Doh’eth.
But hey, the bright side. I have a growing library of sound effects. I’m overusing them something rotten this week, but it’s the learning to use them, innit.
Oh, and hey, it’s getting near Crimbo. If you enjoyed Grey Moons story or my old original horrors covering Capricorn, don’t forget they’re available in a lovely smellin paperback available on Amazon. They’d make a fab Christmas gift! (Linky: https://amzn.to/2PjT7ak )
“Come, we have others waiting for you upstairs,” said Lucy.
George paused at the stairwell rummaging in his jacket pockets.
“Oh that’s not going to work here,” said Lucy as he produced a phone.
“I have four bars,” said George.
“And I have a hammer,” replied Lucy, bringing a Stanley on Georges mobile.
Well, it’s one way of smashing a horror trope…
Rimshot
“Mr Prime Minister,” said Lucy, drifting over and shaking Georges’ hand. “She’s been waiting for you.”
Sam, ran up to George and threw her arm around him. “It’s like a fairy tale reunion,” grinned Lucy.
“You tell me such brilliant bed-time fairy tales,” said Sam.
“I’m glad you enjoy them,” replied Lucy.
“But why do they all start with ‘once upon a time?’”
“Sometimes they don’t,” replied Lucy. “Sometimes they start with ‘if elected, I promise…’”
Well, Lucy sounds like she’s having a good day. Thanks, rabble, for all the positive feedback on sound effects. Y’all still awesome.
George tumbled through the front door. “Holy crap, did you see that?” he asked the receptionist.
“Oh, yes sir. Happens all the time,” she replied. “Mr George North?”
“Yes,” mumbled George. “How did…”
“Take the stairs to the second floor, third door on the left, the crèche,” said Receptionist.
“Oh, no,” started George. “I had a daughter…”
“Yes,” chipped in the receptionist. “And she’s on the second floor.”
More sound effects. Some cuts. Works a lil bit better for the shorts I reckon.
“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?”
Little Fears 