Saturday, 6 August 2016
WARDROBE MIRRORS OFF THE RAILS
"Lucy told me your wardrobe mirrors are off the rails," I said, when he opened the door of his tiny flat.
He tucked in his shirt and sucked his saliva. "Do come in, A tenner for a pensioner! That
was the deal."
His dirty clothes were strewn around the bedroom floor, The bare mattress smelt of mice.
His wardrobe was bulging from the assorted bric brac inside.
"It'll take me fifteen minutes," I say, "Then I'll fix the toilet seat."
"Good," he says. "I'll relax watching the cricket."
The germs were crawling around the mould on the bathroom ceiling.
I flushed the loo, and did my bit.
Twenty minutes later I walked into the living room. Fine art and cobwebs were hanging
from the walls.
I just achieved a Chess.com rating of 2900," he said, looking up from his dusty laptop "That'll be good for my ADD."
"Be careful not too tread on your spectacles," I said, with a grin,