I’m afraid it’s another light weight version this week for Friday Fictioneers. My deep and meaningful seems to have buried itself so deep I’m struggling to find it. At least I can rely on the other 100 + contributors each week to keep up their end of the creative talent pool. I’ll just be treading water till somebody throws me a life jacket, or a brick……
The waiter brought the soup and left. Meryl scanned the restaurant, mouthing a sort of half whisper, half mime
“Did you hear about Mavis?”
Distracted by the winking fish eye, Deirdre didn’t look up,
“Bert heard it in the Butchers; said Bob at number 6 had heard it from Big Bertha at the Café”
“Mavis Smith has run off to Cyprus with a tattooed trawlerman”
“Mavis Smith!” Deirdre raised her eyebrows.
“She hasn’t run off with a trawlerman, she’s got onto that net thingy, the internet”
“Bloody Chinese whispers” muttered Meryl struggling to lift the soup with her chopsticks.