there once was a frog on a log,
Who sang to quaint ditty,
About his life with his wife in the city
You see she was a little hedgehog
Who loved her mate
But sadly she met an unkind fate
When during labour something went wrong
The nurse hit a gong
And out came a Spikey frog 🐸
Or as I like to call him a Sprog
The rain fell hard in the grey dusk sky, it had been raining like this for 3 days. The second water butt in the garden had reached saturation and the water was pouring out from under the lid. Mack had been watching it on and off each day. He’d sealed it the previous year but it appeared to make no difference.
The tomcat from next door, sheltering under the tall conifers in the corner of the garden. Was pacing backwards and forwards not liking caged tiger, snarling at the rain. The big conifer was able to keep him dry, but then it had been there for the last thirty years. Twenty years ago, he had buried his old friend at the base of the trunk and the tree had bloomed so much that it became a giant.
Ring ring ring ring, Mack came back to his senses he stood up walked over to the phone, he picked it up and looked at the display, PRIVATE showed. “Hello, Mack Jackson here.”
“It’s Bob here, we have a situation we need you to come in.”
“Bob, I am out I have been for five years.”
“I know, but I need a favour….”
“Damn it, Bob, OK I’ll come in! But this is the last time”
“Mack thank you, I appreciate it, I’ll send a car, be with you in 20mins”
Click.
Mack placed then phone back in its cradle. He turned back to the French windows. “Fuck, why did he have to call I was Out. To quote Don Corleone, just as I get out they PULL me back in.”
The rain was still lashing it down, he shrugged his shoulders and headed for the garage.
The curse of meetings strikes again
