by Roger Noons
a dry sherry
‘Have I grown a second head?’ Richard said, as he
walked into the kitchen. ‘Or has my face become comical, an extra moustache
perhaps, ears suddenly become pointed?’
His wife looked up from stirring gravy.
‘What?’
‘I’ve just walked into the hall and met our
daughter, who looked at me, burst out laughing and ran upstairs. Not her normal
reaction when I come home from work and ask her if she’s had a good day. Usually
I get a scowl and a shrug.’
‘She had an experience on her way home from
school.’
‘An experience?’
‘A man exposed himself in front of
her.’
‘Oh!… but how does that explain why she laughed
at me?’
‘Because darling, once she’d got over the shock,
she stared at the man and told him it wasn’t as big as her Dad’s … and he ran
away.’
‘Ah! How does she know … perhaps I left the
bathroom door open sometime,’ he mused, almost to himself.’
‘I probably told her,’ Laura said.
‘You told her about my …’
‘It was no doubt during our birds and bees chats.
Maybe I said you were bigger than most:—’
‘Bigger than … hang on a minute, how many have
you seen?’
After a deep sigh, she announced. ‘You’re the one
who brought home magazines and hired DVDs.’
‘Right. What do we do about the dirty old
man?’
‘I rang the school and they said they would tell
the police. Mind you, I think she dealt with it rather well and told her so. I
probably wouldn’t have been that quick thinking. If he appears again I doubt
he’ll flash Emily. Won’t want another reminder of his inadequacy.’
‘Yeah, right, well done Em. What’s for supper?’
About the author
Roger is a regular Cafe Lit contributor.
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