It has been a long time since I last participated in San Diego Momma's PROMPTuesday. Basically she dishes out a writing task. It gives my crazy mind a chance to stretch its legs. Today's task is to finish the story begun with:
“What are you doing here?” I hadn’t thought to knock.
Aaron raised his head from the table. His eyes wouldn't meet mine. "We need to talk."
Aaron was sitting at my kitchen table, clad only in some ghastly boxer-shorts and a mismatching pair of stripey socks. He had just decapitated an egg and looked decidedly fractious. Open cupboards spoke of a frantic search for coffee.
It all started to flood back. We were out last night on a bender. He must have crashed at my place. Aaron is the sort of guy who walks hand-in-hand with scandal. Something scandalous must have happened. He conveyed the impression that something had all gone horribly wrong.
Memories of the night before were materialising. We had a lot to drink. The VIP lounge, that's right, we found some VIP passes lying outside and managed to sneak in. A fight. There was a fight. Aaron is prone to getting lary with violent maniacs. Something to do with a blond he was fraternising with. I vaguely remembering a fight breaking out, we got thrown out, Aaron was rollicking about in the street...
"The Police were here earlier," he said while readjusting his boxers, "they're coming back later to ask us some questions."
"You know the Postman Pat kiddie ride, the one that sits outside the newsagent down the road?"
"It went missing last night. Two guys of our description were seen carrying it down the road."
Aaron nodded towards the window. Sitting on the front lawn was the Postman Pat ride.
"You're right man, we need to talk."
A Little Girl Feeding Some Baby Crocodiles, 1932
4 hours ago