Those Daft Soap Suds – Issue 11

Vi and Able were sat very close to each other with a tangible energy between them.
“Why did we split up?” Vi said.
Coulda been your affairs with the vicar that married us, the usher, the page boy and me father.” Able retorted in his best laconic manner.
“Yeah but you didn’t help, not telling me you were already married to that Mrs Rochester.” Vi countered without feeling.
“We wus good tegever, though, wasnt we?”
“Oh yeah, none of em could hold a torch to you, an no mistake.”
“So, do you wanna? Able said as he entwined his right leg inside Vi’s thighs, forming something like a Gordian Knot.
“Yeah, why not.” Vi said as she slipped her tongue inside Able’s cheek, without irony or any intention to humour.
They both indulged in behaviour even an omniscient narrator might feel uncomfortable about relating… cut to The Oval exterior.
“You alright there,??!??”
“Yeah, just contemplating me navel.”
“It’s interesting isn’t it. All that fluff. Where’s it from?”
“An what’s it for?”
“How are the night classes coming on?”
“Oh, triffic. I’ll be speaking business Cantonese by the end of the year.”
“That’s fine. Will you be moving out of The Oval?”
“Nah, I love it ere too much for that. I’ll probably open a stall on the market and sell yams and Cantonese cuisine to the locals.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea con-sidering your Faberge stall went tits up recently?”
“Oh yeah, I’ve still got some of the Business Enterprise money left. Besides, you’ve gotta folla yer dreams. Life is, at the end of the day, too short for regrets.”
“You’re not right there. Night.”
“Medical science is a pretty pear, ain’t it.”

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.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