Saturday, July 29

"Austerity"...Sunday's Short Story.


I read today that the ruling party is abandoning the thought of austerity. Hmm. Not their style I'm thinking. But I'm sure many will take a deep breath and sigh...Thanks!
Margaret H. gave us the prompt a few weeks ago. This could be read with a Belfast accent...

Austerity!!

“What have you done with my pills?  I need them. I know you’ve moved them mother. You’re a blooming nuisance with your tidying up all the blessed time. Let the dust lie, it’ll be like that when you’re dead and gone. And I’ll be dead and gone if I can’t find my pills. I can feel myself coming over all faint already. I’m gonna sit down a wee while and collect my thoughts, pull myself together.
Sorry.
And what the hec  has happened to that cushion? You know I have to have thon there cushion at my back otherwise, I will end up crippled with pain. I’ll be laid up in bed for a while and then you’ll know all about it. You’ll be traipsin’ up and down yon stairs. I can’t be sitting in that chair with that cushion there, even if it does match the chair better than mine. I know how your mind works. I really do.
Sorry.
Has the paper arrived? I haven’t seen it anywhere. Don’t tell me that paper boy has given up again. Waste of space. I can’t stand lazy people like him, no get up and go, no loyalty to his customers. Well mum you’ll just have to pop across to the newsagent and get it. And while you’re at it, tear a strip of of that woman over there for not making sure her best  customer gets his daily on time. What’s the point of getting the paper at ten in the morning? Sure it’s old news by then. I’d go myself but I’m feeling a bit woosey, I need to get those wee red pills. What have you done with them you old fool?
Sorry
While you’re over at the shop, get me some ciggies. I’d give you the money but sure me wallet’s up the stairs in the other jacket pocket and I couldn’t make it up there at the moment.  Sure I’ll pay you later when I get over this wee bout of dizziness. Oh and a cuppa tea would see me through ‘til you’re back. Oh and make sure you put three sugars in the way I like. Last time I’ll swear there was none. The tea was flipping bitter. I’ll just have a bit of shut eye then ‘til you’re back.
Sorry
Have you gone yet mother? Mother do you hear me? You’re deaf you auld biddy. Deaf as a doorpost. I could be dying here and you’d not give two hoots. Do you hear me? I’m not going to shout, sure I don’t have the energy. I would have the energy if I could get hold of those bloody pills. Are they down the side of the couch where you sit? Why would you move them, I said why would you move them? I may as well talk to the wall for all you care. Is that cup of tea coming? Three sugars mind. And the paper would be grand before lunch for crying out loud. If that’s you by the front door, I’ll do without the tea if you’re on your way across. Ciggies, remember ciggies! Mind like a sieve mother , mind like a sieve. God I feel lousy, where the hec are those wee red devils? If I were a fit man I’d be up looking for them. I would. I know I would. That’s the kind of man I am. Aye, That’s the kind of fellow…fellow…fell…
Sorry.
[Slams door and gets into a taxi with suitcase]


6 comments:

  1. Love your stories Gerry - such a lot of thought goes into them. When I have put this post on I am going to do this week's writer's prompt, which is "It was only........". I have an idea. If it seems to work I might put it on for criticism - that always helps doesn't it.

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  2. Oh yes please put it up...I'd love that...like the prompt too!!

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  3. Which Béal Feirste accent was I too use :-) ?

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  4. try top of the Ormeau Road...that could work!!!

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