Those Daft Soap Suds – Issue 12.1

“Do ya remember when we met?”
“Yeah, when you dropped that fork into me foot; it was love at first fist fight.”
Mrs B. Leach of number 12a was seen running out and crying, “he’s left ‘is shoes on me table, I can’t go back in there.”
She was quickly consoled by the vicar who pointed out that there’s no such thing as bad luck like that. Had she forgotten that she’s had enough bad luck prior to this incident: her new house burning down when that votive candle mass she’d held for the church fell over and began the fire; and her  man running away with that white witch.
Beryl Leach stopped sobbing long enough to refute the clergyman’s logic with, “’Is leaving was the best luck I’d ‘ad in years.”
Meanwhile Olive Lamp was talking to her friend as they were making their way over to cohabit with twelve other families that were temporarily without homes and loved ones. “The ones at number thirteen are looking forward to Halloween. I see they’ve injected their pumpkins with collagen, the mouths look  like  glamour models.”
“Yeh, but their candles will still blow out in this sudden and mysterious wind.”
“You’ve not been at the last of the pickled gerkins again, have you?”
“Naw, but look, there’s a strange fog making its way into The Vitreous Enamel.”
“An’ what’s that red cloven-hooved creature doing goin’ in there. I never allowed creatures of the night like that in my establishment.”
“Yeah, but it’s not yours anymore, Olive luv, isn’t it?”
“Thanks for reminding me. Still, even though the chemical brothers own the place I cannot stand by and see a devil like creature drinking in my old haunt. Come on, Vera, let’s follow it.”
“Don’t forget your rabbit’s foot.”

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