Yes. I have no plan for life or for this blog. Having no plan doesn’t always work out that badly though.
I seem to muddle through like a writer in search of a workable metaphor. I might be a bit mad as I have too many things I am trying to do and so none of them get done very well. Hence why the laundry tub is overflowing – I need to get rid of some clothes too. It is 1249 as write this so only five hours and ten minutes before you will be able to read it.
For today I am going to share a short story. This was written for a competition at my writing group. It had to contain the words: Facebook, Banana, despot, and kettle.
The Banana, the kettle, and the Despot.
There was an old man seated at the other end of the table. He wore a smart, but not expensive, grey suit was bald, and he was stroking a banana.
Siobhan had made it very clear I shouldn’t laugh at her grandfather but in this situation it wasn’t easy. “So,” he said. “You like my granddaughter?”
For a man stroking a banana he was somehow able to make the simple question sound threatening.
“I do,” I said.
“I hope that you are prepared to one day say those words in a more public setting and you are not just… using her.”
“I am not, sir.”
He smiled and continued to run his hand over the banana. “I am sure you are wondering why I have this banana.”
“Simple,” he said. “I am allergic to cats.”
I had seen a picture of him early in Siobhan and my Facebook conversations and now that I looked at him he did bear and uncanny resemblance to Donald Pleasence. If he was despotic Blofeld did that make me Bond? If Bond was overweight and had difficultly talking to women. I chanced a question. “So you are some despot wanting to end the world?”
“No. However your world will end if you hurt Siobhan.”
Suddenly a woman was led into the room by a man wearing black fatigues, with a water-pistol on his hip and carrying a kettle. I recognised the man as Siobhan’s brother and the woman was her best friend.
“This woman put the milk in first!” Had the words not been so ridiculous it might actually have been scary. Siobhan’s grandfather had been a small time actor.
The woman was staring at her shoes. Siobhan’s brother barely touched her with the kettle and she stage fell to the ground. He then fired his water-pistol at her soaking her black shirt.
“You see the consequences for disobedience?” Her grandfather stared at me and I gulped in spite of myself. I wasn’t sure what this man would actually do if I hurt his granddaughter but I was sure I didn’t want to know. Somehow his gaze lost no power in spite of the fact that all I had seen was a woman shot with a water-pistol and an old man stroking a banana.
I just wanted to say that I have checked this post. I really have. Unfortunately my particular combination of dyslexia and dyspraxia makes it really hard for me to spot typos. Please enjoy and I’ll try not to make too many errors.
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