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Story to Forget
by
Rusty Broadspear
The Intro
A planned evening, with drinks in the garden of an
olde worlde pub,
By a lake, in the heart of the English countryside.
The sun still has a way to go, the gnats are
flying,
The lake is still, yachts gently duck and bob.
The sweet scent of nature
Mingled with the aroma of English real ale.
Aside from the two couples, (as cast),
Maybe a dozen, mostly younger people, shared the
patio.
The Cast
The point of the discussion became rather blunted.
Harry and Jack talked 'car disembowelment'.
Sybil and Hester talked of local shops and their
decline.
Prior to this, loose plans were laid, to share a
winter holiday.
Truth is, Harry couldn't abide Jack's worst half,
Hester.
Jack couldn't think of Sybil without a saddle and
whip.
Sybil thought Hester's red hair matched her
poisonous mind.
Hester thought Sybil's insincerity could be far
less blatant.
Harry and Jack were OK mates, since childhood.
The Evening
With tray of drinks balanced on the palm of one
hand,
Jack stepped nimbly through the french doors on to
the patio.
"Drinks for the Princesses and ale for the court
jesters!"
The evening imperceptibly became frivolous with
undertones.
By now, Harry and Jack virtually sat at an adjacent
table,
Talking of what they remembered of life in the
Sixties.
A wet dog, wandered between tables and under
chairs,
Looking for scraps or sweet whiffs.
Between Hester and Sybil, the dog shook, as dogs
do,
Starting at the head, then snaking all the way down
to the tail end.
In shock, Sybils arm, (the arm with a full drink at
the end),
Flew involuntary into the air.
Sweet, amber, bubbly fluid leapt from the glass,
As if Sybil had conjured up a mini lake serpent.
The lake serpent made straight for Hester's face,
As if to bite it right off.
As Hester abrubtly stood, her chair crashed into
the table behind.
Her right foot stomped down hard on the mutt's
tail.
The pub dingo released a howl and headed swiftly
for the lake,
On the way, knocking four youngsters to the
concrete.
Their raucous fun-filled evening, was now stunned
silence.
Harry and Jack laughed 'til their bodies ached,
Containment was not an option.
They reeled to the bar, ordered more ale,
No fancy drinks this time.
Moments later two taxi drivers appeared,
Calling for Jack and Harry.
Jack and Harry, mouths full of ale,
Locked eyes, silently shared the humour of the
moment,
Then once again burst into rib aching laughter,
Spraying ale like two aging fountains.
They'd all shared a taxi to the pub,
Now Hester and Sybil had made other arrangements
For the journey home.
"So, where shall we all go this winter?" asked
Jack.
"Where ever you like Jack,
But we leave those two behind."
The Moral
There isn't a moral.
Maybe a little could be said about blokeship
And wenchship.
This story, re-enacts throughout the world,
Throughout the years.
Petty, unimportant, trivial..................
Life.
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