The exercise:
First line week draws to a close with the saying on my current favorite t-shirt: "In my defense, I was left unsupervised."
I used to wear that on Friday nights at the community centre, when I was working on my own. Now I'll sometimes bust it out when I'm working weekends with public works, as I'm the only town staff working in the afternoon.
Either way, it's an awesome shirt.
2 comments:
That sounds like a great shirt and one I wish I had now... though it might not inspire confidence in people. I have one that reads "Everything will burn" and when I'm asked about it I tell them it's the backup plan for the business -- set fire to the office and claim the insurance money :)
In my defense, I was left unsupervised
The sun was low, partly concealed by the horizon and the High Street was thronged with people. Oddly so, given the time of day. There was a smell of sweat and something more acrid in the air, and the crowd seemed to be milling rather than moving in an organized fashion. There was shouting in the distance, though when Bill suggested that the people were saying Pomegranates! Lovely before you ski! Ben just shook his head.
"I don't think Bulgaria grows pomegranates," he said. "And where's the snow? How do you ski without snow?"
"Indoor skiing's getting more popular," said Bill. "I went on a date to an indoor ski slope once."
"With Okra?"
"No, with Polly actually." There was just enough huff in his tone that Ben looked at him until he sighed and threw his hand up, the other still cradling the sack. "Fine, Polly is short for Politburo."
"I don't know how you do it," said Ben. "Does your Tinder profile say something like Must have a name picked from a medical dictionary, atlas, or paint catalogue?"
"Names aren't important," said Bill. "It's the person underneath that counts."
"Ok," said Ben. "I'm pretty sure I remember Polly though; she was the one that created conlangs that consisted entirely of swearwords in other languages. And used nopalitos instead of shower scrub."
"She was also the one who was actually spying for the Azerbaijani secret services," said Bill. "They thought that calling her Politburo would be hiding things in plain site."
"Hah, oh yes. Do you think she ever got out of that missile silo?"
"We barely got out of that missile silo. That was when we decided we ought to have a henchling."
They reached the end of the high street and turned the corner. The hospice should have been ahead, instead there was a caldera filled with bubbling lava and a greasy-looking plume of ashy-grey smoke was lifting gently up from it. The Henchling, shoulder wrapped in sooty bandages, was sat on a low wall. They looked a little more cheerful as Bill and Ben approached. Before they could speak, the Henchling held up their remaining hand.
"In my defense," they said quickly, "I was left unsupervised."
Greg - ooh, I like that one as well! Though I don't think I'd get away with wearing it while working for Public Works...
I am amazed that you allowed the henchling to survive the hospice mess. And also rather pleased by the implication that the henchling had something to do with it :)
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