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Weekly Contest #326
Doctor Blake hesitated, then said, "There is one thing you could try." "What is it?" I lifted my head out of my hands and shuffled my chair up to his desk like a mad seal. "Please, for God's sake, tell me!" "You have a cat, don't you?" "I do! I do!" "Getting old by now, I should think." "He is! Yes! Very old!" "The one thing you could try, Vincent—you COULD try—and this is by no means prescriptive, let's make that clear—the one thing you COULD try is..." "Yes? Yes?" "Eating your cat." I gawked at him, silent. Had he just said what I thought ...
Weekly Contest #294
"What?" she said. "What?" "What?" she repeated. "Oh!" he exclaimed and repeated himself—but it didn’t really register because something on the menu had caught her eye. "Excuse me," she said to Jayesh, a passing waiter. Jayesh stopped, struggling to balance two trays of cocktails. "What is that?" "The vada pav?" said Jayesh. "Fried potato dumpling, spiced and served in a bun with a choice of chutney. From Maharashtra, it says there. Highly recommended." "Does it contain nuts? I'm allergic to nuts, you see. All nuts. It doesn’t matter the type...
Weekly Contest #285
*mental health / self harm*Hold on, the line went a bit scratchy... Sandy? You're still there? Hi, Sandy, as I was saying, I think we have rats in the house, the night before last we were in bed and some God awful noise woke me up, and no, it wasn't Ian's snoring - you do grow accustomed to such things over fifty years of marriage, believe it or not - no, it was a scratching sound coming from the skirting behind the headboard, so I give Ian a good shove, no luck there, the man would've slept through Pompeii without so much as a twitch, ...
Weekly Contest #273
I had read somewhere that when private detectives follow someone, they watch the feet rather than the back of the head, so the subject won't sense they are being watched. This is similarly taught in the SAS and in martial arts for when approaching an enemy from behind. So, I supposed I could at least rest assured it wasn’t a PI, special forces, or a kung-fu expert whose eyes had been burning a hole in my back since I left the restaurant.It was an early evening in late November, and the back streets of coastal Portsmouth were as grey and empt...
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