Beatrice returned home having enjoyed tea, finger sandwiches and dainty cakes with her lady friends. She swept through the front door and glided down the hall brushing a speck of dust from a shelf and straightening a vase as she passed.
‘I’m home George’ she sang as she entered the lounge. Her smile dissolved as she watched George step back from the wall where he’d just hung a huge frame.
‘What is that…that…thing?’ she bellowed.
‘It’s erm, it’s a…’
‘It’s hideous, that’s what it is!’
‘But it’s Maradona’s…’
‘If you’d washed it clean and ironed it, it still would look ridiculous’
‘Yes, but if I’d …’
‘Even one of Madonna’s Jean Paul Gaultier dresses would not hang there’ she huffed.
‘I’m going down the pub to watch the football match with my friends’ said George, ‘Please don’t take it down while I’m gone, sweetheart’.
‘I’ll see. Now, only three pints, no eating crisps, no playing the slot machine and be back by 10.45’.
‘No dear, yes dear, bye dear’ George muttered as went on his way.
At 10.45 George returned home to find another frame alongside his precious Maradona shirt, in it an autographed pair of Beatrice’s voluminous undergarments!
Sunday Photo Fiction is hosted by Susan Spaulding who also provided this week’s picture. Thank you Susan.