Golden Leaves

The end of September is approaching, and we've had the Autumn Equinox just last Friday.  Learning this and seeing the leaves start to turn golden gave me the inspiration for this piece.

The Golden Leaves
     That is always the first sign
Today the sky is clear
     Tomorrow the sky is grey
Today the day is sunny
     Tomorrow the day is raining
Yesterday was June's Solstice
     Tomorrow will be December's
People talk of their lives' autumns
     I wish we autumn hints of oncoming end
I wish autumn is taken by her beauty
     I see autumn as Nature's display of herself
Look at the great towering trees
     Nature is painting them golden once again
The leaves will snow brown upon our gardens
     The leaves will be raked, be swept and be sent
From our gardens tidy
     To become part of the ground again
They may be slow at first
     But there will be a flood of them
If you don't know what I mean
     Then look out your window and look
For they're coming again
     Look out for the Golden Leaves.

I hope that you've enjoyed this piece.

Description by Cliches

This piece was another writing homework I was asked to do involving as many cliches as possible.  I had to look up what cliches there are.  See how many cliches there are in this piece.  I hope that you'll enjoy this piece.

Henrietta entered the room, approached and past nearly very man she spied, but they failed to spy her in return.  Finally, she spied a group of three men of about mid-thirties and she approached them and burst into describing herself in a loud voice that all fell silent in the room.
     "I'm as bright as a button.  I'm dressed in my favourite pink dress as it matches the pink rosin my combed hair.  It makes my waist as thin as a tyre.  My face has the whitest makeup that matches my white teeth when I smile my red lips that match the cherries from the cherry orchard next to my rose garden, where I got the rose in my hair, which is as fair as a glowing summer sun.  I'm light as a feather that makes me wish to dance with any man who falls in love with my beauty and wishes to dance with me.  Would any of you three wish to dance me? How would you like describe me? I'm as bright a button."
     How fast she said all of it, I must confess, I don't know.  But according to a grandfather clock on the far side, she said it all in twenty-five seconds.  I could have barely say it all in an hour.
     The first man of the three, a man that looked like he was full of beef, spoke, "I can describe your face."
     "Can you?" Henrietta asked, full of excitement, "Please do."
     "You have a face that would scare a dog out of a butcher shop."  Came the answer before the dance hall burst into laughter.
     Henrietta turned to the second man, "What about you?" She asked, hopeful for a better answer.
     The second man, who had beefy arms to match the first man's beefy chest, answered simply, "You have a face like a bag of spanners."  The dance hall burst into laughter again, they were enjoying this.
     "And I can describe your face in a third way."  Popped up the third man, "You have a face like a bulldog chewing a wasp."
     The dance hall laughed again, this was too much.
     "That's it!" Henrietta spoke up, "I'm telling the butcher, the car engineer and the police commissioner about this."
     "That's easy for you."  The third man replied.
     "How?"
     "I'm the butcher."  Answered the first man.
     "I'm the car engineer."  The second man went on.
     "And I'm the police commissioner."  The third man finished.
     "But then I'm complaining to you."
     "Yes."  Came the three voiced answer.
     "And if I may add," the butcher went on, "The sight before me is as ugly as a hat full of holes."
     "And," the car engineer jumped in, "a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."
     "And finally," the police commissioner spoke up, "I've heard complaints that you're all fur coat and no knickers."
     "I have never been so insulted in my life!" Henrietta declared before she turned heel and stormed out of the laughing dance hall, its guests happy that they will have a Henrietta-free dance night.
     After all, everyone's a critic.

Here's a link to a website with a list of cliches.

I hope that you've enjoyed this piece.  I hope to post again soon.

40th Blog Post - Happy Valentine's Day

It'e Valentine's Day.

Here are links to some of my posts, I think could be related to Valentine's Day.

For Glasses, here three boys hope to be picked by a girl to go on a date, while Edward's new glasses causes problems for him.
For Open Heart, a piece describing a girl called Grace.
For Many Summer Have Passed, for a piece involving a train driver when he's arranged to to have a picnic.

Happy Valentine's Day.

I hope to post again soon.

Many Summers Have Passed

I wrote this piece a homework for the writing class I attend.  The task was choose our favourite song, then choose a line for the theme or or the title of the story.  This piece involves the character Chris, a train driver, who I have posted about before, and I hope to expand this piece into a full story.  The title comes from a line of the song Fields of Gold, originally by Sting in 1993, here's a link to music video of the song.  However, it was the version sung by Lisa Kelly when she was part of the Irish group, Celtic Woman, that got me hooked to the song.  I hope that you'll enjoy this piece.

"I'm coming."  Chris told Helen as she lead him into to the barley field.  She was looking very excited.  

     "We don't want to be late."  She kept saying.  

     "Who is 'we'?" The train driver asked before noticing Freya waiting for them with a picnic displayed across the ground.  Both girls smiled as Chris marvelled the sight.  

     A red and white checker cloth, a wicker basket, plates, knifes and forks with sliced bread, butter, jam, cheese, biscuits and bottles of pop.  

     "What's the occasion?" Chris asked the girls.  

     "We thought you'd like picnic."  Helen answered, still smiling.  

     Chris looked at them closely.  

     "When you say 'we', I'm guessing that Hayley knows of this too.  Where is she?" 

     "She's coming."  Freya answered.  "There she is."  She pointed to the gate Chris and Helen had just come from and the three looked towards it.  Chris recognised Freya's twin sister and her companion, it was Jennifer, who was wearing a long red country dress to match her long brown hair.  Both she and Chris looked at each other as she approached the small gathering.  

     "What's going on here?" Jenny asked, eyeing the three girls watchfully.  

     "We've made this picnic for you."  Helen explained, "We thought you would like to have a peaceful time to yourselves."  

     The two adults looked at the girls and at themselves, both of them unable to stop smiling.  

     "And we thank you very much."  Jenny replied with a nod of the head.  

     "See you later."  The young ladies said before they walked away very joyful.  Chris was sure he heard them chuckle.  

     "They are priceless."  Jenny spoke as she sat down on the picnic cloth before she was joined by Chris who said, 

     "I suppose that's why they're so loveable."  

     "Do you remember when we first met?" 

     "I do, it was at that very field gate we passed through coming here.  I had just been to an inheritance hearing of a distant family member, where Io got this pocket watch," here he drew out his said watch and held it, "Father hoped for a title of some sort but he got a small fortune instead.  I was afraid of what my friends would think of me.  But Danny came and found me here and talked me round.  We were just leaving when I saw you pass by."  

     "I had an argument with my father about his marriage to my stepmother."  Jenny spoke, "I couldn't see any reason for  what made him divorce my mother so he could remarry.  Coming to these fields helped me clear my head.  When I saw you with Danny, I wondered if you two were the infamous Chris and Danny, and yet, I couldn't believe it when I found out that you were."  

     The two adults looked out at the field in the valley beyond.  

     "Many summers have passed since those summer days."  Jenny went on.  "Life has changed so much.  You and Danny at Phaford Bridge, you and Helen, and we were engaged."  

     Chris looked at Jenny.  

     "Were engaged?" 

     She looked at him.  

     "Well, you changed so much.  You're a survivor and now an adopted father to Helen.  How can I match that?" 

     "I can think of one way." 

     "How?" 

     Chris shrugged as he answered, "Well, first not let this picnic Helen and your half-sisters prepared for us go to waste.  Second, pick a date.  And third, see our children run in this field as the sun goes down."  

     Jenny's smile widened.  "I'd love that."  

I hope that you've enjoyed this piece.  I hope to post again soon.

The Open Heart

Here's another piece I did for the writing class I've attended.  One homework was of the theme "The Open Heart".  I hope that you'll enjoy this piece.

The open heart of Grace is unbelievable.
     Go to her with very bad day, thought and troubled heart and she can lighten up the day and make your heart all the less troubled.  The only daughter of Henry and Emily, Grace made them feel totally blessed having a fair haired girl with such an open heart that caused everyone around her to fall in love with her for her kindness to them.  Everyone loves the open heart of Grace.

I hope that you've enjoyed this piece.  I hope to post again soon.

Davidina's Questions

Here's another piece of Davidina, who I've posted about before two years ago.  Don't worry about the name, I found the name while looking through a list of names, and it got my attention, and I felt that it would make a good name.  This piece is set a while before previous post.  I hope you'll enjoy this piece.

Davidina sat beside her father Frederick Boak in what felt like their hundredth hotel room of their world wide tour.  He was all for going to bed, but she wasn't to let him escape again.
     "father, tell me about mother."
     "Oh not again my dear."  Frederick groaned, "I'm tried."
     "Please father."
     "Why do you want to know?"
     "You don't talk about her.  All you've ever said is that you both were forced to separate, you love her and you hope she loves you back."
     "What more can I say?"
     "Her name, her family and why she isn't with us."
     "It's complicated my dear."
     "How is it? A simply love story, how more complicated can it be?"
     "You may not understand."
     "Why can'n I be the judge of that?"
     "Because I lived it, not you."  Frederick answered.  "You just got caught in the middle."
     "Father please tell me."
     "Why rake the past?"
     "The past is always raked up I've heard.  Please."
     Frederick sighed.  "Fine then, but promise not to tell anyone."
     "I promise father."

I hope that you've enjoyed this piece.  I hope to post again soon.

St. Ensay - Hunters on a Slope

I wrote this piece at the writing class I go to.  The subject that was mentioned int he class was location.  Having already written a piece I'm hoping to expand on a homework piece I did, I decided to work the pieces together.  The setting of this piece is on a fictional island in the Outer Hebrides, and in this piece, two men are hunting deer.

On the western slope of Ben Ensay of the Outer Hebrides island, St. Ensay, one can see the setting of the sun giving off a blood red glow to the sky.  The green grass lent back and forth with the sea breeze coming from the Atlantic along with the wild flowers.
     Douglas and Hugh walked along the contours of the slope, hunting rifles in their arms, coats fastened tightly and their heads tight in their hats.  They knew that it was time to return to their hunting lodge, but they haven't had a shot all day, their prey, a wild deer, either too far to shoot, or nowhere is sight.  Douglas is sure that the deers could be in the small forest further down the slope.  Hugh is equally sure that the deers are further up and round the slope.  One place they agreed that isn't an option is the ever mysterious research cite that has the security force of Fort Knox.  Nobody goes near that place.  And nobody comes out.
     "What a way to end first day of hunting season."  Douglas was saying, but speaking his thoughts out loud didn't improve his mood.
     "We've still got a week left."  Hugh replied, trying to sound encouraging, but even he didn't feel encouraged.
     "Where are the deer?"
     "Maybe we'll find them in the morning."
     "I won't sleep till I shoot one."  Douglas snapped.
     "Sorry."  Hugh could only say.
     "Where are the deer?" Douglas repeated.
     "Wait."  Hugh spoke softly.
     "What?"
     "Listen."
     They listened.  They heard it, the sound of an approaching animal; a deer.
     They readied their rifles and waited.  The sound grew louder.  They pressed their rifles up upon their shoulders.  Then they paused to think.
     A deer ran round the slope past them and they watched as it ran on, now down the slope.
     "I thought that deers run away from hunters, not towards and past them."  Douglas spoke.
     "I think it was frightened."  Hugh nodded towards the fleeing wild animal.
     "Frightened?" Douglas asked.  "Of what?"
     Then a sound caught their ears from where the deer had come from.  They raised their rifles again.
     "Who's there?" Douglas called out.
     No answer.
     "I said, who's there?"
     No answer.
     The hunters observed the slope against the darkening sky.  Then they heard it, gurgling hiss.
     "We know you're there.  We can hear you."  Douglas shouted as the final ray of daylight sank into the sea.  "Show yourself."
     Then they saw it.  "What the heck is that?" Douglas exclaimed before it darted towards him.  "Stop, or we will shoot!" Still it came.  "This is your final warning!" Same reaction.
     Two rifles spoke into the sunset.

I hope that you've enjoyed this piece.  I hope to post another piece soon.

35th Blog Post - Some Ongoing Projects

It's hard to believe that this is my 35th blog post.  I'm posting this post to let you know how my other projects are getting on.

The Battle of Svalbard story is proving a little tricky as my notes are all over the place and I have to go back and forth, trying to find the right place for the piece and notes.  But I hope to get on well, and get into not just the story, but the characters too.

I've set myself target dates for two stories which involve two train drivers, Chris and Danny, who I've posted about before.  One story is about a bridge disaster and the second is about building a new railway line.  Both are in the planning stage, and are coming on very well.  I'm hoping to start the stories themselves soon.

There are other ideas I'm toying with, but I'm going to take my time with them and see how they get on.

I hope to post again soon.

The Bottles' Messages

This piece is from a writing homework I did, and was for, yesterday.  The theme given was "Message in a Bottle".  Writing it was a little difficult as I had to find Danish surnames, and the ones in this piece were the easiest one I to do and say.  I apologise if the Danish surnames are incorrect in any way.

The Royal Danish Naval ship Triton could see the southern tip of the Faroe Islands about fifteen miles away.  Captain Anker was scanning the waters of the Norwegian Sea, and so far there has been nothing.
     "Ship spotted off the port bow about twenty miles."  Called the voice of the lookout Christiansen, a lieutenant.  Anger took a lookout the radar screen then through his binoculars.  Sure enough, it is a ship, a Caledonian MacBrayne ship.  But that ship is a ferry for the Outer Hebrides off the the Western coast of Scotland, and that is a quarter of a thousand miles south of here.  What is that ship doing?
     "Shall we call it sir?" Eriksen, a commander, asked.
     "Give it a try."  Anker replied and Eriksen left the bridge for the radio room.  "Helmsman, steer towards that ship."
     "Aye sir."  Came the reply before the Triton sped towards the ferry.
     Within the short distance, there was no reply either by radio or by morse light.
     "Prepare a boarding party."  Anker ordered.
     Within the last short distance, Eriksen boarded the boat with Hansen, Holst, Larsen, Sternberg and Abel, and steered the boat towards the silent ferry.
     "Look."  Abel called as he waved a hand for command to stop the boat.  It was then they saw them.  A line of glass whiskey bottles, pieces of rubber wrapped round them, but a piece of rope kept them near the ship's black hull.  Abel and Holst took a bottle each, opened them and withdrew a piece of rolled paper from each bottle.
     The papers were dirty, smelt of whiskey, stained of whiskey, ink and dark brown sports that looked like dry blood.  Slowly the two Danes unrolled the messages.
     "Stay away."  Abel's said.
     "Don't board."  Holst's said.
     "Clearly they don't want anyone to board the ship."  Eriksen spoke.
     "What do we do?" Hansen asked.
     "Take a quick look."  The commander answered and gently drew the boat closer to the black hull.  All eyes, worried and concerned, watched as the black wall loomed over them.
     "This is the Royal Danish Naval ship Triton, we call for you to make contact."  Eriksen announced on a loud speaker.  No reply.  "Prepare to be boarded."
     A rope ladder was thrown up and the small Danish crew climbed up the starboard bow hull, past the name MV Isle of St. Ensay, and placed their black boots upon the ship's deck.  Nobody in sight.
     "Let's find the bridge."  Eriksen spoke, "Larsen, wait here."
     "Yes sir."  Larsen acknowledged.
     The five Danes walked as silent as possible up to the bridge, guns at the ready, but still, there was nobody in sight.
     "It's the Mary Celeste."  Sternberg commented as they wondered around the empty bridge.  All silent and no sign of power.
     "What happened here?" Eriksen asked.
     At that moment, a gun spoke three times.

I hope that you've enjoyed this piece.  I'm hoping to expand this piece and explore where this piece comes from soon, and so far it's at the development stage.  I hope to post another piece soon.

Triangle

I wrote this piece going through one of my notebooks, and I hope that you will enjoy it.  This piece was writing homework for a writing class I attend, and the theme of this piece is triangle.

"What are you doing son?"
     "I'm drawing a triangle."
     "May I see?"
     "Here dad."
     "You said you're drawing a triangle?"
     "Yes dad."
     "And how many sides does a triangle have son?"
     "Three."
     "Then how come there's four?"
     "Because that's the line that halves the triangle dad."
     "Let me draw a triangle."
     "Dad, that's a circle with three straight sides."
     "Oh boy, why did I ask what my son is doing? I'm even sorry for your future maths teacher."
     "What's a maths teacher dad?"

I hope that you've enjoyed this piece.  I hope to post again soon.

Glasses

I found this piece in one of my notebooks and I thought you'd enjoy it.  I this piece, three schoolboys mock another schoolboy who has started to wear glasses, meanwhile, there's news of a girl looking for a date.  Which of the three boys will do the honours?

"Oh look at him."  The classroom of schoolboys laughed as Edward entered, red in the face.
     "Doesn't he look silly."  One asked.
     "The most daftest thing to put on a face."  Another spoke.
     Most uncommon."  A third spoke in a posh voice.  "Most uncommon."
     "Why are you wearing that sill thing?" The first boy, Alfred, asked.
     "Supersavers told me I needed to."  Edward answered weakly.
     "How horrible."  The second boy, Douglas, mocked a shocked voice.
     "Nothing's wrong with my eyesight."  The third boy, George, mocked a peer's accent voice.
     "What's going on here?" Arthur asked as he entered the room.
     "Eddie's got glasses."  Douglas laughed.
     "I can see that."  Arthur replied.  "I quite like them."
     "Oh, thank you."  Edward replied, smiling weakly.
     "What's the news?" Alfred asked.
     "Young Miss Grace has announced that she's taking one of us on a date."  Arthur answered.
     "She'll take me out."  George smirked.
     Douglas looked at him, "No she won't, she'll take me."
     "Don't be silly."  Alfred spoke up, "It'll be me who will be with Grace."
     Arthur and Edward sat on the edge of a table side-by-side, arms folded and smiled as the three schoolboys argued between themselves.
     "She won't be taking me."  Edward whispered to Arthur.  "I don't feel special enough."
     "Because of your glasses?"
     "Yes my friend."
     "It makes you look intelligent."
     "Shut up."  Edward smiled wider.
     "What's the arguing about?" Asked a voice in the door.  Edward thought his glasses were playing tricks with his eyes.
     Grace was about his height with long blond hair and dazzling blue eyes that matched the long deep blue dress she was wearing.
      "I'd like to take you out tonight."  Alfred jumped up.
     "No, I will take you out tonight."  Douglas stepped in front of Alfred.
     "Please, let me take you out."  George gestured.
     "Let Grace decide."  Arthur suggested.
     "I already have."  Grace replied softly.
     "Who is it?" The three schoolboys asked at once.
     "The intelligent looking one."  Grace answered, looking at Edward.
     "Me?" Edward asked, taken aback.
     "Of course, your glasses make you look intelligent."
     Edward's smile matched Grace's smile as he took her arm and they walked out together.  Arthur watched on, impressed.  The three boys were dumbfounded, their mouths dropped, eyes big as a snooker cue ball and their legs turned to jelly as they fell back in their chairs with one thought in their minds, and it's the same thought as they said it aloud together, "I want a pair of glasses."

I hope that you've enjoyed this piece.  I hope to post another piece soon.

Poem about Diary

I found this little poem from a piece of homework for a writing class I go to.

Why have a diary?
     Is it to remember a date?
Is it to remember contacts?
     Is it to remember addresses?
Sounds good
     having a diary
Sounds good
     Doesn't it?
Best way
     to remember good times
Relive life
      in our memories
Just a snag
      about keeping a diary
If author is a boy
     his sister will read of his girlfriend
If author is a girl
     her brother will read of her boyfriend
All the evidence
     laid out bare to be read
Diary sounds good
     on the surface
But can
     lead to trouble
Which is why
     I don't keep a diary.

I hope that you've enjoyed this little poem piece.  I hope to post another piece soon.

30th Blog Post - The Dog Who Couldn't Bark

Here's a piece I've found in one of my notebooks that I thought will be enjoyable.

"Sprat! Where are you, Sprat?"
     There he goes again.  Every night I hear my neighbour shout for his dog with the daftest name possible - believe me, I didn't name that but, that seems to follow my steps when I walk up and down the street and it doesn't matter if I pass my neighbour's house or not.
     I suppose the reason Sprat follows me is perhaps he feels lonely as he's the only dog, sorry, puppy, on a street filled with cat loving families.  I prefer neither cat or dogs.  Sprat, believe me, looks like it had a wash years ago, not yesterday.
     "Sprat, where are you?"
     I can guess, hiding behind my garden shed, hiding the so-called League of Cats that seem to them up against the poor fella.  I could let him in if he could see the open door, but an open door in my street seems to tell the cats "Why don't you come in and have a saucer of milk?" Thankfully I keep my bottles of milk locked in my fridge with a padlock and key.
     "Sprat! Where are you Sprat?"
     I better go and tell my neighbour to look behind my shed.  How else will he know when the poor pup can't bark?

I hope that you've enjoyed this piece.  I hope to bring another piece soon.

A Piece from The Battle of Svalbard - Lucinda's Grief

Here's another piece from the ongoing story The Battle of Svalbard.  In this piece I hope to introduce Lucinda Cancaret, a female otter who lives in Paris.

Lucinda Cancaret sat in the quiet drawing room of Ney Hose in Paris, looking at the open book laid out infant of her attempting to think of the future.  Her love then engagement were both brief and she wishes with all her heart to have them both back in hope of a loving married life.
     The French otter in dark dress had just returned to her birth home last year after she realised that the aforementioned love and engagement had come to nothing in hope of a recovery from her loving family.  Her engagement had promised a high status in the British society that so many in the world wants.  Many such marriages are in reality arranged for money and status, not for love.  Lucinda's was one of very few that was just for love.
     They met just after her fiancé joined the unbeatable British Royal Navy and it was a "love at first sight", as the old saying goes, and so it was for just a few months, they were engaged.  Then it went wrong.
     The next voyage, three months later her fiancé was called by his naval officers to his duty.  When he returned a week later, she didn't recognised him in not his looks, but his character.  He began to drink heavily and shouted at anyone he could, including herself to her greatest horror.  After March the following year, she just walked to him and placed her ring on his desk before departing back to Paris, her eyes have never looked back, her heart drowns in tears when it does, when Lucinda thinks of Theodore Nelson.

I hope that you've enjoyed this piece.  I may have to rework this piece in my story, but I hope to work on the character in the future, whenever it will be in this story, or another story featuring Theodore Nelson.  I hope to post another piece for you.

Robert Burns's Birthday

Today is the 258th birthday of the Scottish poet Robert "Rabbie" Burns.  To a Mouse and Tom o' Shanter is perhaps his most famous works, but I think that the world knows Auld Lang Syne better since we sing the song at the end of the year.

Here's a link to a website that can turn English into a Scottish accent phrase for you to try.  For one of my projects that involves train drivers, I'm thinking of having the train drivers involved in a cricket match against the "gentlemen", and one of the drivers has a Scottish accent, "Whit's cricket? Is it something tae dae wi' fitba?".  That will be fun, I'm looking forward to it.

At a writing class at Eden Court I met a man called Cliff, and he was an expert in Robert Burns.  He was quite a character.

I hope to write again soon.

Happy Birthday Robert Burns.

A Piece from The Battle of Svalbard

This piece is from the ongoing project of the The Battle of Svalbard.  The background for this piece is that on the HMS Triumph, which is the oldest ship in the Royal Navy and due for retiring when the war in the story ends, there is a group of engineers trying to keep the ship going for that little bit longer.  Here John Hall, a rabbit, is testing the phones on the ship with his co-worker, Jeffs, a mouse, who is in the engine room.  Another point to make is that the enemy ship, the Bergen, has been spotted, and the Triumph with the new battleship, HMS Steel, is ordered to intercept her.

Note that all the characters are animals.

John Hall works as an electrician, checking to see if the power cables of every ship works.  At the moment he's checking to see if the telephones on the ship is working; which it is because he's in the captain's cabin talking to his mate Jeffs down in the engine room.
     "What are you saying?" Hall was asking.
     "The engine has been speeding at nearly twenty knots for the past half an hour."  Jeff was shouting over the noise of the steam engine.
     "What is up?"
     "I don't know.  Nobody is saying anything , except calls of orders to keep the highest speed possible."
     "Where are we going?"
     "How should I know? I'm in the engine room am I not?"
     Hall, a rabbit, groaned at the answer.  "I'll call the bridge, test the phone and ask them, then I'll phone you back."
     "Get on with it then."  Jeff hung up.
     "You're welcome."  Hall said huffy, before he called the bridge.  "Hi there, just testing to see the phone work."
     "Sounds like the phones work, thanks."  It was Captain Ford.
     "That's good sir."  Hall replied when the phone went silent.  He called again.
     "What's the problem?" Ford again.
     "Did you end the call sir?'
     "I did.  Check all phones are working.  It'll be important they are."  The call ended again.
     "What's going on?" Hall asked himself before the phone rang.  Hall answered it.
     "Where are we going?" It was Jeffs.
     All Hall could think of was: What do I say? Thinking quickly, he said in a hurried, foreign voice, "I'm terribly sorry, but you must have the wrong number.  This is a Chinese Laundry, we don't do taxi service for your laundry."  Here Hall slammed the phone down, knowing that he will have to face Jeffs later.
     Meanwhile Jeffs looked at the phone in his mouse's paw saying, "I knew that he might say something like that."

I hope that you've enjoyed this piece.