Thursday June 22nd, 2017

The exercise:

Write about: the rescue.

Max had his final day of playschool this morning. They celebrated the end of the year by having a get together at the splash park and I managed to drop by for a bit - mostly to visit but also to check on the washrooms there.

With parents invited, and many of the kids having younger siblings, it was a busy scene. Kinda glad I had work as an excuse to not stay longer. The boys had fun though, so that's good. Plus plans are in the works for play dates with Max's classmates, which is exciting news.

Mine:

I don't know what you're doing here. What do you hope to accomplish? Looks like a right proper waste of time to me - yours and mine.

Fine, go on then. Speak your piece. And then you'll be welcome to shut the hell up or leave me the hell alone. Whichever you prefer, yeah?

Hey, miss? Yeah, we'll have another pitcher. Thanks. No need for a second glass - she won't be staying long. I don't think she'd like this stuff anyway. Not an appreciator of fine beverages like myself, know what I'm saying?

What's that? Oh, you're still talking. Bloody hell, you're right full of hot air tonight, aren't ya? Well of course I wasn't listening! You're just here to hear yourself talk, ain't ya? Surely you weren't expecting me to listen to whatever garbage you're spewing?

Go on home, then. There's still time for you to salvage your night. Go catch a movie or chat with one of your girlfriends or whatever it is you do that ain't drinking. Just go, all right?

You should know better by now - you can't save me from myself.

2 Comments:

Greg said...

I like how you managed to combine work and parental responsibilities successfully, and how it worked out for the best so that you didn't get smothered by rug-rats :)
Hmm, the arc of this story is intriguing, with the steady revelations of the relationship between the narrator and the other person each being a little kick in the head. The narrator comes across as convincing, if unpleasant, and the last line seems very appropriate, though also like a challenge. Which is a good way to open a story, after all! I really like the bravado that's visible in the narrator's speech, with the question of whether it's real or a put-on....

Oh, and because you mentioned it on a comment recently: I didn't know Protagonize had gone! I have a subtle sense of loss now; I hadn't been there for a while (seemed like every six months at the moment) but I'm still sorry to see it gone. I hope you have some of Red's story saved as I don't -- but if you wanted to collaborate and rewrite it again I'd be up for that. Damn -- and we never did finsh "How the Best was won either".

The rescue
Lady Agatha's house was actually a mansion set in several acres of sprawling grounds. Hedges divided the lawns, meadows and bowers into a subtle maze, and many visitors had gone for a quick constitutional before lunch and had to be rescued by the under-gardener after supper.
"This is a bloody long driveway, Vince," said Dave. They were wearing Animal Control overalls and walking along a broad gravel path. Dave, who'd been overweight for longer than he cared to admit, was red-faced and out of breath.
"Posh people like them though," said Vince. "It helps keep the Raffles out."
Dave glanced sideways. Vince was having no trouble with the walk at all. "Raffles?" he said, with just a hint of a gasp. "What, like lottery salesmen?"
"Nah, Raffles like the cat-burglar, mate," said Vince. Ahead of them the doors to the house came into view. Somewhere off to the side of them something growled, sounding hungry. "If it's a half-hour hike to the house from the gate it puts off your modern criminal. They're about as fit as you are, mate."
Dave swore, but spoiled it a little by having to wipe sweat from his forehead with a pudgy hand. They continued in silence until they reached the front door, and Vince climbed the eight steps to ring the bell.
"Wait," said Dave, bent over and half-choking. "We have to use the tradesman's entrance."
"That's what the missus used to say," said Vince. He rang the doorbell. "I didn't understand her either, so we used to do it u-" He was cut off by the door opening and Lady Agatha stepping out of the shadows.
"Yes?" she said, in the tones of someone who isn't going to listen to the answer.
"Animal Control," said Vince.
"Control it, then," said Lady Agatha, cutting him off and staring at Dave as though he were something the cat had coughed up.
"Not him, miss," said Vince, ignoring the fact that Lady Agatha had not been a miss for nearly forty years. "We've had reports that you've got lions here."
"Yes," said Lady Agatha. "They're rescue animals. I give them a good home."
"Tigers?"
"Also."
"Hippos?"
"Again."
"Right," said Vince. There was a growl in the distance, and then a scream. "Only...."
"Spit it out, man. Your... beast there looks like it's going to die if you don't put it down first." Dave spluttered, but still couldn't quite stand up straight.
"Only we've had reports that your chihuahuas are bullying the rescue animals."
Lady Agatha's face lit up as she smiled. "They're such clever little dogs," she said. "Come in and meet them!"

Marc said...

Greg - ah, bugger. I totally forgot about my collaborations when the warning went out to save our work. I'm (fairly) sure I've saved my portions somewhere. And I would love to finish both Tagged and How the Best at some point. I'm friends with Gabe on Facebook so that second isn't out of the question, and I'm also friends on there with Archie and Dark so... perhaps one day?

Ooh, this is quite the meeting of tales! I'm not sure this is going to end well for Dave and Vince. Particularly Dave.