Keep Off The Grass
He had not slept well at all. The dog had refused to settle and in the small hours she had paced the hallway and whimpered at a pitch that had brought him back from his dreams. After gruffly calling out to her, peace resumed but it was short lived. In the end he got out of bed ahead of his alarm and got on with the day. He had cursed after spilling cereal all over the kitchen floor-tiredness messed with his hand to eye co-ordination. Bending to sweep up-what looked like- a million rice krispies, he hit his head on the corner of an obstinate cupboard door. Even the Beeb would have struggled to bleep his explicit language without drawing attention to a disrupted service. Having poured away the remnants of a very bitter coffee he dragged himself to the bathroom. It wasn’t until his hair was fully soaped that he remembered that not only did he still have his slippers on, but the boiler was on the blink and only provided a thimble of hot water.
Finally, suited and booted he secured the front door and stepped out from the shadow of the sheltered porch. It was then that all the pieces from the night before began to tumble into place. Every prized garden ornament he had collected from around the world was missing. The lawn was transformed by strange yellowing flattened shapes. To add insult to injury the thieves had left one ornament behind-a life-like frog with a movement sensor that triggered a croaking noise. It was his least favourite of the collection but it did have sentimental value. Not for much longer though, as attached to its body was a note that had obviously been scribbled in a hurry-the world’s worst guard frog!
Amanda Bird
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