Back again from my sporadic mental travels to return to my non sensical scribbles for the FF gang held together with the Gorilla Glue that is the wonderful Rochelle. Not sure what sort of nonsense I’ll come up with today, I’m going to sit on it for a few hours as I wonder the streets off some god forsaken step ford housing estate in North Worcestershire, maybe some diabolic inspiration will possess me.
On My Marks…
“You take the jerk dressed as Fucking Christmas and I’ll see that Motherfucker in the cap”
Tim whispered to Dawn.
Working tables for peanuts during the pandemic while customers muttered targeted profanities under their masks, mainly at Tim and Dawn; his stutter, her arse. People were so goddamn impolite, no respect.
Tim neared Baseball-cap, smiled, leant over to take the order, slid the knife from his apron, smoothly, and lanced his throat.
Dawn politely asked Christmas what he desired; sprayed sulphuric acid into his face.
Light shone through the window dancing in the crimson tide, pooling on the cheap lino
So there we are, manners don’t cost anything and you should probably remove your hat when you go out to eat, 100 words innit.