Grandad loved April Fools Day, his pranks were hilarious! I remember him putting food colouring in a milk carton, the time he pretended to trip in my direction carrying a jug of juice – it was frozen!
There was a bucket atop his wardrobe. We were told never to look in it, he said it contained his bucket list. We guessed it was his list of pranks!
He died on April the first. He really did, it was no joke. We decided to look in the bucket. We found a piece of paper –
Once again everyone was present at The Baaamy Inn; “what’s that slimy mess on your trousers, Ted?”, asked Arthur, “well, I was playing golf with Micky March, the bloke with the chickens across the road from me that sells eggs at the market, and as I was about to tee off he suddenly said ‘look, there’s Flighty Flora’; obviously I stopped and turned, whilst unbeknown to me he was replacing my golf ball with one of his white eggs, hence that mess, he really is as mad as a March hare!”
“Time really does march by”, said Babs, “it seems like only yesterday it was February and now April’s knocking on the barn door; this month alone I’ve given birth to thirty five lambs – not literally of course even though I am married to Bertram Ramsbottom!”
“I’m joining all you other farmers on that protest march on Sunday” said Arthur, “not sure what it’s about but I thought I’d better take part; I just hope it’s not like the one I did when I was in the army; we were told we had to march ten miles, then half way up a very steep hill the Sergeant Major said ‘you’ve done five miles, just a few more to go…before we reach the starting point”.
“When I was a teenager I was an army cadet” said George, “one day we were all standing to attention about to do some march training, except for the lad next to me who was slouching; the Sergeant Major said ‘step forward boy, what’s your name?’ and he said ‘John, mister’ – the officer said ‘we don’t use first names just surnames and you call me Sergeant Major, now I ask you again tell me your name’, and the lad said ‘Darling, John Darling Sergeant Major’ – we were in hysterics!”
“I’ve got a French hen”, said Colin, “it only lays single eggs but un oeuf is enough – a row of rabbits marching backwards is called a receding hare-line – March is the best time to buy a mattress, that’s when they’re most springy – March 4th is not just a date, it’s a command too – there’s a place where January comes after February, and December comes before September, it’s the dictionary – how many months have 28 days?…all of them – nine months feels like a maternity – my wife said I’m in for a big surprise in nine months time, I can’t wait for Santa to come – bees become less decisive after April, they become maybees – two guys stole a calender, they both got six months – my mate got fired from a calender factory for taking a day off – how many seconds are there in a year? 12, January the 2nd, February the 2nd, March the 2nd…..”
Len was having fun making up March related things he thought his dearly departed Maggie might like to do, like eating marshmallows, mashing potatoes, playing matchstick puzzles, trying some magic mushrooms even; “what do you think Maggie?” he chuckled, ‘you should do it again in April Maybe’ she whispered!
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Thanks to Denise at GirlieOnTheEdge for hosting Six Sentence Stories where this week’s given word is March.
He’s always been a bit cack-handed. You’d think having eight legs and sixteen little fingers to use he’d be quite good at knitting a web, but no, he always gets in a right ‘ole pickle!
The one he made just now looks a bit like my gran’s hairnet! It’s not too bad, but look what’s just happened – he’s only gone and got himself caught in the middle his own trap!
The local flies think it’s hilarious, they’re fluttering around laughing their little heads off! The poor fella’s asking them for help. Fine chance of that happening, especially on a Webnesday!
When I finished writing and recording my story, I realised I had used last Sunday’s words not today’s!
Having spent several hours slaving over it, I decided to post it rather than scrap it.
Sorry if it goes on a bit, I’ve been very naughty and exceeded the self imposed 200 word limit I try to adhere to when writing!
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He was born too soon, so frail there were doubts as to whether he’d survive, but somehow he did.
When he was two he became overly playful with a dog. After he hit it several times, it turned on him. He was badly mawled but eventually pulled through.
His third year was a difficult one. He was unwell for months after drinking something bitter and toxic. We were told to expect the worst, but we never lost hope and against all odds he recovered.
He was four when he became curious about the big wild world and wandered away from home. After being missing for four days he was eventually found unharmed and carried on as if nothing had happened,
He was five years old when he climbed inside a massive dryer at the laundrette. He was fast asleep on a pile of warm damp clothes when it was switched on. Fortunately he was spotted almost straight away and jumped out dizzy and hot, but unharmed!
When he was six he wondered if he could fly. He leapt from high tree and discovered he couldn’t. Somehow he landed on his feet.
Just after his seventh birthday he was walking along a street when for some reason he suddenly decided to dash across the road. He ran in front of a car. How he survived we’ll never knew.
When he was eight he should have known better. He climbed on the facade above a store then realised he couldn’t get down again. The emergency services came to his rescue.
He was a restless nine year old and simply had to explore. That was fine until he discovered a hole in the ground, climbed inside and became stuck. He wasn’t rescued until the following day.
Like so many stories, his has a sting in its tail. He would have been ten this year and wanted to know how it felt to swim. He was torn between trying it or not. Sadly he made the wong decision. His curiosity eventually killed him.
All we have to remember him by is a mound of soil in the garden, with a small wooden cross sticking from the top. A strip of wood bears the words ‘Casper our Curious Cat’
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Last week’s words were – facade doubts curiosity bitter torn hit restless hope massive frail strip and sting.
Knowing me, I’ll probably use this week’s words next week!
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