Mum’s dream of living the country life came to fruition last autumn when I acquired an old cabin in the woods. My parents have never been social creatures so the cabin seemed like a perfect place to end their days. Surprisingly they weren’t as keen to move as I’d hoped, mum went quietly – eventually. Dad, however, took more persuading.
Still, it’s come right in the end; they’ve settled into rural life and I mind their city pad for them – and like every good kid I pop up and see them every month, just to make sure they’re being left alone.
I had never been summoned to Number 208 before; I nervously adjusted my coat and hat and rang the bell.
She wasn’t what I’d expected – mid-fifties, pixie cut, a figure to die for. I wouldn’t normally comment on a fellow female’s form but as she was naked it would be unkind to gloss over the issue. I felt a little overdressed for the visit as I entered her home.
Unsurprisingly the heating was on. Even so, I declined to remove my coat and hat and passed on her kind offer of a ‘nice cup of tea’ while pondering, ‘is there any other tea but a nice one?’
With trepidation I handed her the envelope; I’d heard rumours of a quick temper. She tore it open with a swipe of her finger and began reading.
What did it say? I’ve no idea, I didn’t hang around long enough to ask. Would you?
Glenda stumbled upon a house in the forest with an open door and freshly baked cakes in the kitchen.
Selecting a slice of angel cake she promptly dropped it when a candle burst into flame and sweet music filled the room. Intrigued she grabbed the devils cake, this time the candle dipped to barely a flicker while thunder crashed outside.
Sadly, it’s at this point Glenda’s curiosity dipped.
As she tucked into the devils cake a gremlin tucked into her, wiped his mouth and praised his favourite social media website.
For without it, Glenda could’ve grown up reading fairy tales.
‘Say there, Rex. Have you heard the one about the chicken who crossed the road?’
‘No Porky, I haven’t. Have you heard the one about the farmer who desperately needed to restock his family’s empty freezer in time for their visiting friends who were looking forward to a Sunday pork roast?’
I can’t help but feel rather peed off. I’m not referring to my incarceration, that was inevitable. Loose tongues will be the death of any man and my tongue always was looser than most. No, I’m shocked at the thought of my demise upon such a shoddy apparatus. The gallows are clearly askew, even I can see that from my cell window. Granted I’ve had to crane my neck to an unnatural position to glean this information, but due to the nature of my impending death I won’t worry about a few pulled muscles in that department.
I want to call out to the carpenters, ‘what the heck do you think you’re doing! Do you seriously expect the King to pay you for such poor workmanship! I could draw up better plans myself – in fact bring your sorry effort here and I’ll draw up something a lot more stable, something I won’t tumble off and break my neck. After all, I have nothing better to do, unsurprisingly I’m at rather a loose end right now.’
But the reality is they don’t give two hoots. They will be paid and I will be hanged and that will be that.