Friday Fictioneers: Hedge Vodka.

Rochelle, it’s another Wednesday and I have an online course to do for work which is due to last for 4 hours!!! So I’m wondering if I’ll get a chance to scribble a FF before 1:30pm… Let’s see, thanks to your good self for the photo, looks like you’re on a rural stake out! Lets see what happens.

On My Marks…

Get Set…

GO!!!

Punzel’s Vertigo and hypochondria was proving no help at all so our heroes (remember them?) decided to break cover to cross the border into Nonsense-land post cold-snap.

Along the low post and stockwire non-electrified unthreatening border fence grew weeds providing spring and summer hiding places for Turnip-Hedge-Vodka; the standard waiting-beverage for border bunkers.

There were no guards; it all dated back to when Candlestick-Jack had to leap to safety after the great Ruminant Alopecia Incident led to a shortage of lanolin and threatened his livelihood.

So they drunk Turnip-Hedge-Vodka and luxuriated in the evening sunshine.

There we are folks, a tense time for our escapees, who we leave drinking Vodka in the hedge… What could possibly go wrong… 100 words of utter tripe.

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