Well last weeks FF took it out of me a bit, and i didnt write anything all week, so its time to get back into the saddle and who could motivate me to do so? Well it’s Rochelle of course. Keeping all ship shape and heading towards the horizon, I’ll also thank Liz Young for the photo, a food conundrum, one which I shall sleep on first, so first…
Sleep..
On My Marks…
Get Set…
GO!!!
2 maybe 3 weighty staccato bangs on the door.
The Hippy roused himself from the sofa, a cup and a saucepan fell to the floor, the contents carelessly oozing into the so-called “Glug-rug”.
Bull-man, a tracksuit, a logo filled the door,
“You’ve got an hour sunshine. Clear out. (fucking hoarders, all the same)” he whispered…
“Dave, you’ve, theres someone here man”
********
“This time will be different” spoke Dave, to no one. Hoarding was behind him, despite having an empty house to fill.
“From now on No food of primary colour shall pass my lips”
There was no plan, until the next eviction.
There we are 100 words about obsession, eviction and mental health all rolled into a neat little package.
The Count Of North Clifton 
It’s always the primary colored food. They’re bad news.
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what a life. i feel sorry for the guy.
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You gotta have a plan. It may not matter that his plan is not a terribly good one
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Wow. No food of primary color? No black licorice, or red peppers? No blueberries? No bananas? Poor guy.
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exactly, he’ll be eating only blue stuff next
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Mental illness is troublesome in so many ways. Nicely done, Shrawl.
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Dear Shrawley,
Well there are oranges. Not a primary color. Nor is purple cabbage. Interesting insight into the mind of a hoarder. We used to live next door to one. Unbelievable.
Shalom,
Rochelle
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Neither purple nor orange are primary colours. Shall I send him my recipe?
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please do
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