for Friday Fictioneers.
Will the Warbler was entertaining the crowd.
Come fly with me, let’s fly…
Suddenly a gust of wind launched his sheet music into the sky.
Unperturbed he decided to sing an appropriate song.
Pack up all my cares and woes, here I go singing low, bye-bye blackbird…
A slick of bird-poo splattered his shoulder.
And-a now, the end is near and so I face…
His loudspeaker suddenly let out a deafening pop and died.
Pete the Pint stood in the doorway of the pub, a broad grin across his chubby red face.
“Don’t you come in here Will, the beer ‘ll probably run out!”
Thanks to Rochelle for hosting and to Roger Bultot for the photo.
Click Froggie to see what others have made of it!