“C’mon, I need the practice.”
He wasn’t exactly selling me on the idea, but at the same time, when did I ever require much convincing?
“Well, there is one thing I’ve had in mind…”
“Okay great! Britt is almost done here, she’ll have you in the hot seat in just a bit.
In a weird way, he was charming and had a way of making me fell comfortable. Plus Britt didn’t look half bad considering.
George Milburn tripped and put a hand out to steady himself. He sat down on a wall to rest for a moment, pulled off his cap and wiped his brow with a handkerchief already damp with sweat. It was a stifling midsummer day, the hottest he could remember for a long time. No breeze either. Just baking hot sun. OK for the young’uns, but he couldn’t cope with it any more. Maybe not the best of days to……
As I say it I look out and feel slightly concerned as I see Mr Tumnus bouncing higher than the boys as they stamp on the trampoline to see how high he can go. I move over to the door and race over and manage to catch my furry friend as he bounces off. I really should have bought the trampoline with the safety net attachment. Will I ever stop feeling the guilt of bad parenting?
“Get out . . . now!” Bill rips off a loud roar, from deep inside his extra large stomach, like a lion growling at his prey. He slams the door behind them with so much force several pictures fall off the wall.
“Heh, heh,” Duke quietly laughs as he looks back toward the door. “I know you’re hiding that murderer, Bill. I will catch her and make you both pay!”
They had collected Lucy from school and had listened indulgently to her nonsensical conversation for most of the journey back to the farm. Harry adored his sister and enjoyed being with her, but recently he had noticed that the happy tones that had once been her natural way of speaking had now changed to a more subdued and stilted speech. He was not sure why this had happened and wanted to believe that it was because she was starting to grow up, but in his heart he dreaded that the real reason was down to the home she was being brought up in. However, she was still able to brighten his day no matter how low he may be feeling. Her unconditional love for her brothers, and her dog, Blacky, who she would spend endless hours with, running around the yard and throwing sticks for him to catch and fetch, filled his heart each time he was in her company.
Robert had the top of the time clock off and was fiddling with the tiny digital clock inside. “Done,” he said proudly. He placed the top back on and the clock hands automatically adjusted to the new time of five-oh-five. Robert scooped every timecard from its slot holder and punched everyone out.
“I can’t believe you did that,” Naomi stated with a smile.
Finished, Robert took the top off the time clock and reset it back to the correct time. “I don’t want my salary to get docked, do you?”
“Hell no. I didn’t even know the clock was adjustable. Promise to show me how to do that later, okay?”
“Oh gosh,” he said in a fake shy child-like voice. “I don’t know if I should, Miss Parks.”
“I’ll spank you if you don’t,” she answered, drawing her hand over the computer shut down button and hitting the clicker. The system beeped. She stood up and approached Robert with a cunning look in her eyes. “In fact, I think I’ll spank you anyway.”
“The pleasure is all mine,” Robert said with a smile and took her in his arms. Lips pushed against one another, his tongue forced into her mouth and was greeted with eagerness. His hands slid down her waist and squeezed her buttocks. Naomi moaned.
Someone knocked loudly on the door.
Instantly they broke the embrace.
“Yeah,” Robert called out, frustrated. He watched Naomi fetch her handbag off the floor next to her desk.
Jeff opened the door.
“What is it?”
“Sorry.” He glanced over at Naomi then his eyes drifted back to Robert.
“Just letting you know that most the lads are gone.”
Fuck, that was fast. “Fine,” he said.
He continued to sweep the house, making sure no one was concealed anywhere, checking that windows were securely latched. He felt exposed at every pane of glass as he closed the draperies.
In the bedroom, on the bed, he had left the pistol with which he had killed. During his absence, someone had taken it. The shoulder holster and the spare magazine were also gone.
A small smear of blood brightened the beige chenille bedspread.
Either way I find it annoying and offensive. I just have to try to understand that some people don’t have the manners that I was raised with. I had to get that out of my system. I’ll drop it now.
On another note I noticed I’m having the jitters, especially in my hands. I was on a high dose of steroids and am now still weaning off them. I am on my last pill today. When I’m in work people notice it. They say to me “Why are your hands shaking so much?” or “You still have the shakes?” Now like I said most of them know I have MS so they assume I’m getting worse. My response is annoyingly repetitive. I’m still weaning off the steroids and it is a side effect but then you always get this look of pity or astonishment. I don’t get mad or stress out about it too much. I just find the lack of manners in this world disturbing and sad. I was raised not to point fingers at people who are disabled, not to make fun of people, and to be polite.
James heard his mother crying down the hall, in the kitchen. There was nothing worse than hearing her cry. For so many years he had tried to protect her from him, allowing himself to be his punching bag, but it didn’t always work. His father never hit her, thankfully, but sometimes words hurt more than physical blows. And the man knew how to make his verbal assaults cut like a knife, right in her most vulnerable places.