RAIN OR SHINE

An incoming text message woke him up from a deep sleep.
Come to My house AT ONCE!! Come by bicycle!!!!!
He frowned. Why on earth did he have to use his bike?? Then he heard the rain pattering against the window and the penny dropped. Wicked, wicked Lady! Her message sounded urgent, so he jumped out of bed like an acrobatic flea, grabbed his clothes, his rain suit and a towel (She hated dripping slaves, man, She really did).
It wasn’t raining, it was bucketing down. The night was stormy as well and he had to be careful not to be blown over. By the time he got to Her house, he was panting like a marathon runner with hemorrhoids. He went to the shed, took off his rain gear, dried his hair, face and hands with the towel and knocked on the backdoor.
You took your time, She thundered with a lot of headwind.
I’m so sorry, Mi-
Yeah, yeah, I heard it all before. Get your lazy ass inside, get the dustpan & brush and sweep that up. She pointed at the few grains of sugar on the kitchen floor. He didn’t frown (wise), didn’t raise his eyebrows (wise too) and didn’t ask (wise again); he grabbed the dustpan & brush and swept the floor. It took him less than twenty seconds.
Good! Now, get out and go home. I’m tired and I want to go to bed. Move it!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *