Crooked House

“There’s a bit of a problem in your bedroom,” Dad says, as we arrive at the parental home. “A man’s been round to look at it and he says we need to get everything out of there and then he’ll see what we can do and…”
“What’s happened?” I say. “We can’t…I mean that will be a nightmare. It…”
“Some of the plaster is coming off above your bed,” Dad says. “There’s no immediate danger of the ceiling collapsing, don’t worry.”
Walking towards the front door, I see an enormous orange shape standing there.
“Hello fluffy monster,” I say, picking him up, burying my face in his soft fur.
“It’s nice to see you anyway.”
Dad opens the door and we enter the freezing cold house. Putting the cat down, I make my way to my bedroom to assess the damage. Opening my bedroom door, at first everything looks fine. Then, looking up, I see it: a huge piece of ceiling has become detached and is hanging down. It’s right above my pillow. Am unlikely to survive the night…


4 thoughts on “Crooked House

  1. I am impressed. Your father found a builder who actually turned up. Hopefully you can give us a full report on the rippling muscled hunk who you’ll have in your boudoir!

    Liked by 1 person

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