Sunday, 6 May 2018

Another Daft Story

And this is what I wrote today . . .


Attack Trained Chihuahua
‘He never did!
‘I tell you that dog saved my life’.
Bet and Elsie were having a cup of tea at Bet’s. They were sitting in the living room with a fine china tea set in front of them with scones and cakes on the table. They were old friends and took it in turn to treat each other to tea every few days. They’d known each other for about 20 years and enjoyed chatting and gossiping on what was happening in the neighbourhood. Alone on the sofa, on his own cushion sat a rather overweight Chihuahua, looking smug.
‘I don’t believe it – a little dog like that!’
‘As true as I’m sitting here with you today – that dog saved my life!’
‘Well I never – who’d have thought it. What happened’?
‘Well you know that I bought him originally for companionship and protection after my Burt died. So I’ve been trying to teach him a few tricks and to growl threateningly at strangers who get, you know, over familiar. Well it wasn’t really going very well. Pedro here didn’t seem to understand what to do and just tended to look at me and bark all the time so we weren’t getting very far at all and I wondered whether I should take him to a professional dog trainer like that Barbara Woodhouse who was on telly a few years back. Anyway I was looking in the Yellow Pages when I heard a sound at the back door.
‘Oooh – who was it?’
‘Well that’s when it all started. I walked slowly to the back – you know how my arthritis is playing up – but when I got there I saw a young person in jeans and some kind of T-shirt  (why can’t the young dress properly) with a stocking over their face and a knife in his hand and he demanded all of my money.’
‘You must have been terrified’.
‘I was I can tell you and I really hoped that Pedro had learnt something from the training we’d done together, but no – he just stayed at a safe distance and yapped.
‘Well anyway the person grabbed my arm and threatened me. I was crying now because I was so frightened and he (I think it was a ‘he’) it was hard to tell from the dress and tone of voice which was muffled and asked me where I kept my valuables. I muttered something about the living room I think and he demanded that I take him there. I was too scared to do anything else. He looked so frightening.’
‘I suppose there wasn’t the opportunity to call the police – couldn’t you have screamed or something?’
‘I did scream but there was nobody there to help as they both work during the week either side of me. So I limped to the living room still crying and then walked over to where the silver was. The man came after me, still holding a knife. He held out a bag and told me to put all my valuables in it. I walked up to the mantelpiece and was about to put the silver candlesticks into the bag. The person was watching me and moving forward not looking where he was going. And that was when my brave Pedro came to the rescue, bless him. He walked right in front of that threatening person and tripped him up. He hit his head on the table (the person not Pedro) and was out like a light! Then I called the police and the person was taken away and charged with burglary. I don’t know what would have happened if it hadn’t been for my beautiful, brave gorgeous Pedro – who’s my lovely boy then would ‘oo like a piece of cake?‘ (This last directed at the smug dog on the cushion).
‘Well I never’ (a doubtful look at said dog), ‘who’d have thought it!’



Daft Story

I've recently taken to writing daft stories. This first one was written about a month ago.


Daft Story


She heard the shutters clattering in the wind and waking, wondered where she was. When she'd gone to bed there had been no shutters on the window, just a normal semi-detached in suburbia, sleeping after a night out with the girls . . . and a bad hangover!
She looked around her - she was in a castle, high up in a tower and the door was locked. How did she get here? And how could she get out? Suburbia never felt more inviting!
She lay back on the bed, her head aching - what had she drunk? She closed here eyes, hoping that she could fall asleep and when she woke, her life would be back to normal.
Then she heard footsteps outside the door, and after knocking, a woman entered, pulled back the curtains and addressed her.
'There you are m'lady - it's time to get dressed, your father is waiting', she said.
Still stunned and massively hungover, she got out of bed and dumbly allowed the maid to help her dress. As she did so, she noticed something strange. Her hair had grown longer, falling down her back, was dark chestnut in colour, and beautifully wavy - the kind of hair she'd always dreamed of; and she was at least 20 lbs lighter. The clothes were awkward to get into and she was grateful for the maid's help, wondering all the time what had happened? Was this some strange weird dream. Had someone drugged her drink? But at the same time she didn't know what to do. The maid seemed to be familiar with this person she'd apparently become so what was she to say? She decided to continue in this weird situation until she could get a clue as to what had happened and how she could get back to her normal life.
The maid, having dressed her, turned her to face the mirror. Staring back at her was a total stranger, young and beautiful. She put her hand to her face and her reflection did the same.

 She stood for a few moments looking at her reflection. This is how she'd always wanted to look, not the short dumpy reality that was her norm. But this was totally incredible. She must be on something.
'Come on M'lady - we're going to be late and then your father will be angry and you know what will happen then', the maid was obviously very frightened so she felt that she couldn't delay any longer pondering the amazing change that had come over her.
Taking a deep breath, trying to gulp back the nervousness that she was feeling about her supposed father, she took one last look at her reflection and walked towards the door.
 Downstairs, it was noisy. She'd obviously missed some form of meal - she supposed it must have been breakfast - but the remains of it were still on the table. Servants were running around clearing up after the diners, being shouted and scolded at by a large man, sitting at the head of the table, with a red face and dark but greying hair. He seemed to be in charge of everything and most of those around seemed somewhat afraid of him and his manner.

Her father?

She timidly make her way into the room, hoping that she wouldn't be noticed. The noise was quite overwhelmingly and she looked around trying to make some sense of the situation. The large man, her father, was telling a joke and was obviously very pleased with himself. She wondered if she could just walk out of the room, but he noticed her . . .
'There she is, my daughter,' he said jovially. 'Come to meet all of the guests. Come my dear, I'll introduce you to everyone - and there's someone really special I'd like you to meet!'

 Her father dragged her by the arm to meet a small group of people. One of the older men looked at her in rather a lecherous fashion and she felt decidedly uncomfortable under his gaze.
'This is my best friend Gerald', her father said. 'He was very interested in meeting you - I'm sure that you'll have a lot to discuss.'
She tried to wriggle a little way away from Gerald. As she did so she noticed a woman watching her intently. She seemed somewhat familiar and she couldn't remember why.
Suddenly it came to her. This woman was at the party where she'd got drunk with her friends. Now what was it that she said when they were all drinking and laughing?
 Finally she managed to escape the lecherous man (and his hands) and made her way over to the woman she'd recognised from somewhere.
'Well', the woman said, 'how do you like being young again?'
She stared. The woman sighed. 'You probably don't remember me fully - you were pretty drunk at the time - but you did want to be 20 years younger - so I fulfilled your wish for you and here you are!'
'Yes but I wanted to be 20 years younger in my own century'.
'Sorry can't do - there's a lot of call on people wanting to be young again and we have to slot them in when and where we can. It's either this or back to where and how you were in your own time. Your choice. But remember this is it - whatever you choose now sticks and can't be changed.'
'But hang on - don't I get 3 wishes'
'Sorry there's not enough magic to go around these days - we've economised and 2 is what you get now. Make your choice - now - I'm busy and have to get on.'
She looked around, at her father, the other people present - and the lecherous man and sighed.
'Take me back', she said.
There was a flash of light, some fairy dust and a moment of confusion.
And there she was, sitting in her own home again, sitting in front of her mirror, wrinkles, lines, double chins and all. She sighed again. Well at least she knew where and when she was and she was free from the lecherous advantages of that odious man.

So the moral of this daft tale is - be careful what you wish for, especially when drunk!
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