A Secret

I’m going to tell you what Ben did, but you gotta promise not to tell anyone! It’s a sensitive subject and, even though Ben’s not going to mind, what with him being in a coma and all that, the family’s a whole different kettle of kerosene. That’s down to them being low-down, recidivist, trailer-trash scum what is known more for lashing out than thinking.

Oh, wait, I just thought of something. I can’t tell you on account that you could be Ben’s brother, Pete, reading this. Hmm.

Oh, hold up, Pete can’t read so you’re not going to be him.

But you might be his wife, Mabelline!

Then again, I know you’re not talking to each other since you smacked Pete in the head with a pool cue due to catching him kissing Sandy in the urinals.

You know what: forget about it. There’s at least three in the family what can read and that’s more chances of being hit by a pool cue than I’m comfortable with.

Forget I said anything.

Photo by Cleyton Ewerton on Pexels.com

Write It Down

Let It Out - Saachi

Isn’t it odd that we love slasher stories when they are in writing and yet get scared when the blade materialises before our own eyes.

It’s almost as if ‘bad stuff’, when it’s written down, becomes fiction and therefore becomes enjoyable.

 
But sometimes it isn’t.
Sometime it isn’t fiction.
And sometimes it isn’t written down.
Maybe the worst tragedies come about when it’s the latter.

 

(inspired by Joss: https://she-who-hears.net/2017/05/07/i-vaguely-sensed-i-was-not-being-any-too-smart/)

(Image by¬†M&C Saatchi –¬†without permission, but I’m sure they wouldn’t mind – it’s an ad)

What I Like

 

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I’ll tell you what I like (what I really, really, really like). Writing.

But I’ll tell you what lights me up more than that. Gardening.

For God’s sake, don’t tell anyone! I’ll be consigned to gardening duty forevermore, and that’d be awful.

(the image is a photo of my garden at minutes to midnight)