Dear Neighbour
Fourteen days ago (Monday, 5:40am) it was requested you temper your new outdoor front lights that beam into the neighbour’s property. In case you’re unaware from your tower in the sky, these new lights illuminate the following areas of the neighbouring property: the entire backyard and beyond Continue reading “Illumination”
“Do you hate me?”
“No.” Yes.
“You can do this.”
“I can.” I can’t.
“You’ll thank me for this later.”
“I know.” Not today I won’t.
“It’ll get easier. Trust me.”
“Ah huh.” As trustworthy as a politician before an election?
“You’re improving with my help.”
“I know.” You’re trying to kill me.
“Come on, one more set of stairs and then breakfast.”
“Can’t wait.” Eggs whites and bird seed, yippee – not.
“You’ve made record time.”
“Ahuh.” And time to find another apartment with a working elevator, without the veganistic, neophyte personal trainer as a flatmate. Or I could push…
“I’s drunk enough that I’m gonna need help pourin’ me liquor I’ve spilled across me kitchen table. Swear the glass just moved, always missin’ the insides. Think it’s cursed, I tell ya, like the rest of this damned kitchen.
Now I’ve gone and lost the blinkin’ lid off the bottle. Bet it’s run off with the dish ‘n spoon, like the rest of the bloody kitchen. I tell ya, I’s can’t find nothin’ no more.
Swear I’m gonna put a permanent lock on ’em kitchen cupboards that never shut. I’m tired of their shenanigans too. Bet they’re partying harder in the pantry with the rest of them skeletons peeking at me through ’em key holes meant for keys that I’ve never found.
Now don’t let the common flatware act fool ya. And don’t get me started on the China – that’s too much crockery for one conversation. I tell ya, they’re planning a coup in the cupboard, ever since the missus run-off with the good stuff, leavin’ me with a frying pan and some Tupperware containers that I swear she’ll be demandin’ a ransom for the return of ‘em missing lids.
Nah, forget I ever asked for someone to help pour my grog. I’s thinks I’ve had enough to try an’ stagger outta this kitchen tonight. Might make it to the couch for a change, coz I can’t sleep in the bedroom –there’s too many ghosts in there.”
(237 words)
Rural Romantic Ramblings 