tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post233288964325049931..comments2023-12-06T00:48:23.734-08:00Comments on Daily Writing Practice: Monday June 27th, 2016Marchttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14952331166517430843noreply@blogger.comBlogger2125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post-51740418724388985412016-07-16T00:06:11.619-07:002016-07-16T00:06:11.619-07:00Greg - I find it difficult to imagine you choosing...Greg - I find it difficult to imagine you choosing to live in a warm locale. I do hope you're finding a way to keep cool - perhaps a friendly butcher who lets you make use of his meat locker?<br /><br />Hah, thanks. I will try to bring these guys around again for another visit or two :)<br /><br />So many great details and references in this one. Ben and Bill are quickly becoming favorite recurring characters for me :DMarchttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14952331166517430843noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1149217012399643733.post-19052047472626563212016-07-03T05:30:37.071-07:002016-07-03T05:30:37.071-07:00That's hot! Though I say that from here in Ma...That's hot! Though I say that from here in Malta where I believe the temperature is similar with about 30% humidity. I'm coping, just, but I crave an igloo somewhere and the blissful sensation of frostbite. In a previous life I was definitely one of those early explorers who abandoned Africa for somewhere where clothes were necessary instead of optional. I hope your garlic and tomatoes are doing well, as that sounds like all it needs is fresh pasta :)<br />Haha, this made me laugh today. I love the idea of George being a great sinker and that that's how the beer is being kept cold. I do hope this little group pops up now and again with these kinds of scenes!<br /><br /><b>The swimmer</b><br />The smell of chlorine permeated everywhere, infesting clothes and bleaching nose-hair. Bill sniffed, then wished he hadn't.<br />"Is this strictly legal?" Ben was lying on a beach-lounger at the side of the water. He'd taken his shoes off -- his sole concession to their location -- and was wiggling his toes inside his burgundy silk socks.<br />"Depends," said Bill. He was standing barefoot, his trousers rolled up to his knees and one hand resting on a large metal box. "Employment law doesn't cover interviews, so I don't think there can be any complaints on that side of things. And I think we can make a good case that our would-be henchmen volunteered to do this to show their worth... I think we're probably good."<br />Ben nodded. "How much chlorine is in the pool now?"<br />Bill inspected dials on the side of the metal box and sucked air through his teeth. "About 14 litres," he said. "Whatever that means."<br />"Is that worse than that bank-vault we robbed two years ago?"<br />Bill rubbed his arms reflexively as memories of a corrosive gas flooding a vault twelve feet cubed came back. He and Ben had been warned about the traps but this one had been a trap that was itself booby-trapped. He'd had a moment of respect for the guy defending his vault, quickly replaced by the searing pain of the gas eating into the skin on his arms.<br />"No," he said with feeling. "This is about as bad as the breath of your last-but-one girlfriend."<br />Ben looked hurt. "Clothilde was French," he protested. "She liked garlic."<br />"She could take the paint off a Rolls-Royce at fifteen feet."<br />"That turned out to be useful!"<br />For a moment they were both quiet remembering that, staring out into the green haze rising above the swimming pool. Then the reverie was broken by the splash of a swimmer coming into view and the hoarse noises of someone who's screamed so much their throat has given out.<br />"I think we have our first henchman," said Bill.<br />"Still has to pass the other two tests," said Ben.<br />Greghttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08503319830584828982noreply@blogger.com