“I saw a mouse!”
“Where?”
“There on the stair!”
“Where on the stair?”
“Right there!”
“It didn’t by chance have clogs on, did it?”
“No! It was a bloody mouse, you wally!”
Pete smirked to himself. Jane was always such a drama queen, and he had to inject a little humour into their lonely existence.
Since buying the old windmill, and trying to restore it to its original glory, so they could then organise tours around an authentic working old school windmill, Pete and Jane had sunk into a hermit-like existence.
But it had been a tough time. There were no neighbours nearby. They had to drive at least half an hour to the nearest shops in the village, and they were a little too off the beaten track for their friends to visit. Even if they did, there was no guest room for them to stay over, so most people just stayed away.
Sure, they phoned or sent messages once in a while, but it wasn’t the same.
So, when she presented him with opportunities like this, he milked it for all it was worth!
The thing was, there was no one to share the joke with.
This was what happened when you married a young un…
Ronnie Hilton’s 1965 classic was lost on her!
Your challenge is to write your story using the weekly theme/prompt and write it in just 52 words…. EXACTLY, no more, no less.
The Holiday
Fun, she said.
It’ll be great, she said.
So far, we have endured a delayed flight, lost luggage, and a crappy hotel.
Add to that one day of blistering sunshine that has resulted in blistered shoulders, followed by torrential downpours, and food I wouldn’t even give to my dog!
Holiday, or Hell-iday?
“Now this,” tour guide Tim indicated, “is the famous bed!”
His words were greeted by coos of excitement and eightened whispers in all manner of languages.
The 20-strong group were the fifth he’d taken around today already.
“Yes, here is the bed where Snow White lay, after consuming that poisoned apple, given to her by her Evil Stepmother. Here is where the seven dwarves congregated each day and night, keeping watch over the body of their beautiful princess. And here is where the Prince came to kiss her, and wake her up!”
Cue the phone cameras and proper cameras clicking, image after image from all angles.
“What, you want to lay there and have your photo taken? With your own Prince Charming kissing you? Hmm… Well this is a historical landmark… I’m not sure I can bend the rules. If everyone was to request the same, the bed would be worn away by now. But, if you are prepared to make it worth my while…”
Pocketing another £50, Tim happily clicked photo after photo. Several others came over and requested a similar photo opportunity in various forms of Pidgin English
He led the group back to the coach half an hour later, patting his pocket… Nice little earner! These tourists are so stupid! Don’t they realise Sleeping Beauty was just a Fairy tale!
And that bed? Just knocked up by a friend of his! Or so he was told. Who cares, anyway? He was making a packet with this Fairytale tour!
Unbeknownst to him, seven pairs of eyes followed him back, peeking from a nearby bush…
But I Smile Anyway... 