Mrs Javelin had always
preferred blue and had no time for anyone that disagreed. As she pushed her way
to the front of the queue past the Russian cosmonaut, his space suit glinting
in the sunlight and a young mother with a pushchair piled high with babies and
vast quantities of the required paraphernalia babies require. Mrs Javelin
turning back quickly to comment . . . I'M old you know I cant wait all day.
Can
I help you madam came the voice from behind the counter
Mrs Javelin looked deep
into the eyes of the Butcher pondering
Are
you alright MADAM he said
Yes
its your eyes they reminded me I need to get some rat poison for the cellar on
the way home
she relied
High above in the deep
blue sky a young Dutch parachutist was gently falling toward the ground aiming
for the white X marked clearly on the ground below him. He would not be going
to the butchers shop, he had long felt that as a parachutist he was now at one
with nature and the birds and the thought of eating chicken seemed wrong when
he spent so much time frequenting their world up in the clouds.
Now in the Post Office Mrs
Javelin was demanding three pounds of sausages and a tennis racket and despite
several people trying to help and explain that it was the Post Office she was
not having any of it and swung her handbag at a large chap wearing hand made
alligator shoes. He fell to the floor with a large thud, you see Mrs Javelin
was a bell ringer and had rather good upper arm strength and besides she always
kept a large house brick in her handbag just in case. But with the mention of the police she
vanished sharpish.
Mrs Javelin had been
involved with the police before and had no plans to become ‘The Most
Undesirable Member of the Community 2015’ making it four years in a row with her picture on
the front page of the Upper Gaswold Gazette.
Taking a shortcut across
the park her continuing shopping trip was suddenly interrupted by a large flock of chickens feeding around
a large white cross on the grass.
Bloody
Chickens
she said
Duck said on old
gentleman sat on a park bench
Don’t
be stupid you bloody old idiot she said they
are bloody Chickens.
At that very moment a
young Dutch parachutist landed on her with a great crash sending rat poison
everywhere.
Mrs Javelin went mad after
that and the chickens all died from eating rat poison and the young Dutchman
never really got over the shock of the death of all those chickens. The old man
on the park bench died from a heart attack, a result of laughing so much as he
watched the whole affair unfold. It also transpired that the old man on the
bench was the last man in Britain
who made handmade Alligator shoes.
Life
is a strange and twisted road.
Written in the style of Mr H . . . . only not quite as good.