Friday March 16th, 2018

The exercise:

Write four lines of prose about a: sick day.

(Called in sick to work today, missing my usual Friday night shift. Pretty sure that's the first time I've had to do that with the Town)

2 comments:

Greg said...

Catching up, I'm catching up... I think I've only got Empires to do after this, so you might get that tomorrow when I've re-read everything so far. Plus, if you weren't sick, it would give you the chance to go first. I hope you're feeling better soon, and the Town appreciates you all the more for realising everything you do now you're absent :)

Today we're revisiting this even though it was originally a four-line poem, because I think maybe the monks need it.

Sick day
The monks of the Rositoga had fired their laundress for ruining their snow-white robes, but they'd found Christian compassion (and her willingness to work rather more cheaply than anyone else) and re-hired her as their cook. For three weeks she'd boiled mushrooms, marinated asparagus and served pommes de terres tartare, which they'd found both intriguing and inedible. But now they'd asked her to prepare Coronation chicken, and though it had emerged from the kitchen yellow and fragrant, it had been woefully undercooked. As prayers began so did the vomiting, and soon the Chapel was a clear indication that today was a sick day....

Marc said...

Greg - I'm catching up as well! And also still have Empires to do. I'll have a look at it once I've caught up with the rest of the comments.

Yeah, I think I threw a little chaos into people's lives by being sick. Especially since they'd also asked me to work 9-5 on Saturday and I had to bail on that as well...

Jeez, things seem to have gone from bad to worse for the monks. I hope they don't re-hire the laundress turned cook as their doctor next!