Three days of questioning and he hadn’t said a word. On day four, the specialist arrived. It took only five ‘Your Mum’ jokes to break him.
Crisis talks had broken down, so one side went for a bubblebath and the other, a pint. Next on the agenda would be who’d get to keep the dog
He was drinking again, and with it came the shouts of abuse. None of the reviews had been good. His play was dead. This was him ‘coping’
Pills were no longer enough and drinking hardly took the edge off anymore. Only one option. He’d have to end it, quit teaching for good.
The yelling match ended with a kiss on the cheek and 2 weeks of peace. They knew it wouldn’t last, but were happy to live for the moment.
Garden gnomes raided his fridge again. Somehow they evaded his dog, avoided his traps and still had time to write swear words in the butter.
As he soiled himself, a quick retrospective of the meeting showed it hadn’t gone well, and that this was a fairly apt way to end proceedings
She awoke groggily to a noisy parrot. Last night was a blur. So she sat the parrot at a computer and hoped for it to upload facebook photos.
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