Meh. I'm gonna post it to prove I used it don't waste time reading it just give me more prompts. I make no guarantee's about anything if you are silly enough to read it. I am so out of practice with writing it's disgusting. So: No story, no point. Cope. Cheers!
Edminster wrote:It certainly is a sad day when the average British person has to make do with only three tractors.
‘It certainly is a sad day when the average British person has to make do with only three tractors.’ The newspaper still read, although Toby had given it several seconds to reconsider and rearrange its letters into something more acceptable. He had even blinked a few times, just to make sure, but the innocuous matted black print had remained, steadfastly, unchanged.
Toby scratched the bridge of his nose in annoyance and ushered by his wife returned to the task of unloading the groceries onto their conveyer belt. He had only sent the frozen peas and a tub of yoghurt on their little ride when his eyes once again zeroed in on the obscure title.
He refuse to pick the drivel up. The core of his being, every little rule of sense he had ever been taught over the last fifty years battered down that insane little urge he had to… to understand.
“Toby.” His wife grunted in warning unable to reach past him to do the job herself. He shifted back to the task, with a hard scowl, the blasted thing was to blame not him, how was he expected to ignore something that befuddling?
As he lifted three large blocks of butter and a bar of peppermint chocolate onto the conveyer belt he wondered, once more, if there was another meaning he had never learnt behind ‘tractor’. Surely the average Brit didn’t need one, yet alone three tractors. After all he didn’t have a tractor, and he didn’t want one! So perhaps instead of being what he had first translated it as, it instead stood for some greater battle of inequity and common sense.
“Of for goodness sake!” His wife squeezed in beside him and began to unload the trolley with practiced speed. The brief glance he spared to the shopping caused him a flush of embarrassment when he realised the cashier was empty handed and it had been his preoccupation with drivel that had been the cause.
Thanks god, he realised, that neither his wife nor the young woman knew he had been focused on something so wholly worthless.
“What’s a tractor?” He found himself asking, as he focused on that word once more. His wife huffed as she hauled a bottle of soft drink up onto the belt. Besides that he gained no reply and although he was tempted to press the question now it had been voiced, he clung to the hope that he had, in fact, not been heard and his wife would never know to laugh at him.
He stepped closer to the display of magazines and newspapers, ignoring the image of a frowning politician below the headline and instead squinting at the much smaller text beside it. The words remained blurry but he was glad he had left his glasses in the car. Instead he turned to the next headline on the same paper.
‘Price rises expected in the housing market.’ Which was altogether unpleasant, but made perfect sense. This annoyed him, hoping to have caught the newspaper out in some sort of April Fools day joke.
The voice of his wife interrupted his thoughts once more, “Are you going to buy that?”
“What?” He gaffed, affronted by the suggestion. “Of course not.” He put his back to it to prove his point and moved back to the cash register where his wife was paying.
“Oh, oh well. It looked like you where entranced.”
His back stiffened, a muscle in his neck gave a jerk and he looked down his rather broad nose at her. “I would never be interested in such trash.”
She took her change and smiled at the cashier as she did so. She flicked a look at him, half exasperated and the other half of the expression he wasn’t sure of because she rarely let him see it.
“Of course not dear.” She loaded her arms with bags and he made a valiant effort to get more than her, but was left looking impotent and useless with no more than three in total. “But I wish,” she began, her voice cheerful and she lugged the groceries toward the car park, “they’d sort out that tractor fiasco, it’s getting out of hand. I mean.. three? Really?” She sounded exasperated, “I should be five at the very least.”