Exercises
The Two Petes Redux
“Bilateral deviation to the left present in both suspects, consistent with deviousness of mind.”
“So they’re lying.”
“It would seem so sir.”
“Then bring them in.”
The suspects were finally located shrouded in steam, in the men’s rest room at the Roman Orgy Theatre Restaurant in Rooty Hill.
Each denied having ever met the other, and this despite finding them both in the same cubicle
“It’s not fair,” cried Pete 2 as they lead him away “I have a sore tooth, and I’m stressed because my neighbour is an enormous South American stud who wakes me with his sexual grunting at every morning at 2am. You can’t manhandle me.”
Pete 1 smiled a sinister smile and followed his next victim outside.
by Karen Goldrick
Miller confronted his dresser, seething with the frustration of the years.
“How many times do we have to go through this,” he hissed through clenched teeth.
The old woman shrank into the corner of the room, drawing her shawl about her thin shoulders.
Miller’s fury escaped and he shrieked at her across the carpet. “This is the wrong purple for my complexion.” He tried to control himself, but then Gifford entered the room, shaking with rage.
“Have you seen this red?” he cried, tears quivering on his lashes. “How can I be seen out in this red.”
As one they faced the withered servant in the corner and with a single agonised voice they howled their pain.
“How can we be seen at Slush like this!”
by Pil Lee
Peter switched on the torch and shined it straight into the other Pete’s eyes. They were wide open and his jaw was shaking. He spoke,
“Not again Peter, I told you that torch hurts my eyes, can’t you dim it?”
The Miller looked at the torch but its handle was in shadow, he couldn’t read the printing around the switch.
The Gifford spoke again, “Peter, that torch is really starting to annoy me.”
The other Peter spoke then, “relax Pete, if I turn it off then neither of us can see.”
The Gifford replied, “But I can’t see now.”
“But I can,” Peter Miller replied, “And that’s one more than with it switched off.”
The Gifford couldn’t fault his logic but made small whimpering sounds for some time until finally he spoke again, “Can you see anything?”
The Miller spoke. His voice was calm and soothing, preternaturally so, “Do you think the other members of Slush dare imagine what we do when they’re not around?”
The Gifford bit his tongue and whimpered quietly. There was no point arguing with the Miller when he was like this.
Finally it all became too much. The Gifford asked, his voice shaking, “Can you seen anything yet, can you get us out of this wardrobe?”
The Miller, usual smugness gone now, replied while the batteries in his torch slowly died. “No” he said.
“Carol isn't home for two weeks you know,” the Gifford said into the blackness.