Fiction. We're Doing It Right.
(Part 2 was considered too graphically “adult”)
After some weeks, with little opportunity to reignite our passion, Mr Wickham was posted to Brighton and I determined to follow. I arranged to stay with Colonel Forster, the regiment’s Commanding Officer, and his wife. That arrangement lasted but three days before I had moved into Wickham’s room, as Colonel Forster was a most understanding gentleman. [Read more...]
My name is Mia and I have four dads. My best dad is called Jonno Mofo Griffiths. He lives with me in Newport. He’s a rock star.
He says I have a good imagination but mum says we talk shit.
My worst dad is in America, his name is Mike Hall. He’s a con man. He sold my DS, my Bratz dolls, my Polly Pockets and my Littlest Pet Shop figures on ebay. And he didn’t give me a cent. He lives in a maximum security jail in Nevada.
I have a dad in Africa called Mbumbo Mumthungo. He’s a ranger at a game reserve in Botswana. He has a pet elephant called Bob.
My last dad, Shwami Savati, lives in India. He works at a call centre in Banagalore. He rings us every night at dinner time. It’s really annoying.
You may ask, how is it that I have four fathers. I don’t understand how it works, I’m only six.
I have sixteen half sisters, and most of their names rhyme; Mary-Lou and Vindaloo, Pikachu and Coo Ca Choo. To name but a few.
I’ve asked my dad, Jonno Mofo, to write a song about them. But he’s too busy.
In case you’re wondering, one of my dads did help me write this story. Can you guess which one?
The End
Chapter 5
The following day was cold and wet so they went to the tea-shop in the High street where Harry produced from his overcoat pocket a rather crumpled newspaper.
“What’s that you’ve got?” asked Edgar.
“Oh some arty farty sort of a newspaper put together by so-called writers of the district. I’ve not read all of it but already I’ve found two grammatical errors. I expect better of writers.” [Read more...]
They seldom spoke of their domestic arrangements...
Next day Harry greeted his friend with some alarm. “What’s up Edgar? You’ve got a face as long as a marrow!”
“So would you have in my circumstances. I’ve got to find somewhere else to live for six weeks. I’ve got a month to find a place.” [Read more...]
The next time Edgar and Harry met was a dull day in early November and they were wearing warmer clothes.
“I’ve been thinking,” Harry started, “About nursery rhymes. How little children are corrupted at an early age.” [Read more...]
