Yellow Monster

I am deeply saddened that Blue Monster has taken such a negative stance about the introduction of a Revue Monster. I personally am willing to give said Monster the chance to write something pleasant about us before I comment further.

Now please review the chocolate teapot yourselves.

Chocolate Teapot

The man got off the underground train at Gloucester Road tube station. He was carrying a carrier bag with some bits and pieces for his daughter.

He strode along the road until he reached the halls of residence where his daughter dwelt. He had to use his ancient and rather battered mobile phone to tell her he was there. The doors were always locked against intruders.

He waited for some time before the door was opened and his daughter hobbled to one side. She was on crutches; her ankle was badly swollen. The girl had been on a field trip in Spain with the Geology class of Imperial College. She had successfully avoided being injured on the dangerous bit where there had been fatalities in the past but had twisted her ankle on the flat bit.

She and another girl had been running to catch up to the group. Torn ligaments are very nasty, not to mention painful. However she maintained the worst part wasn’t the five hour long wait in a dry river valley but being carried out by a lecturer.

The man entered the building and they climbed slowly to her room where she told him she would cook him some dinner which they would share with her friend.

He looked at the girl trying to balance on the crutches and asked, ‘Just as a matter of interest what are you intending to cook?’

‘I was thinking stir fry,’ she said as she lurched unsteadily to one side.

‘Right,’ he replied, ‘do you need a hand?’

‘Er, yes please.’ She didn’t smile. She just looked embarrassed.

They left the room and entered the kitchen. The man looked around, ‘Where’s your wok?’

‘Er, there,’ she said, indicating a pile of washing up.

‘Oh so it is,’ he replied. The irony in his tone was a little on the heavy side his daughter thought.

‘I guess I’ll just give it a bit of a wash then,’ he sighed theatrically as he emptied the sink and ran a bowl of hot water. ‘You got any clean plates?’ he asked innocently.

‘Er, no,’ she answered.

He looked at the pile of crockery waiting to be washed, ‘Ah I see them. I think I may wash a few knives and forks too,’ he murmured.

‘Thanks dad,’ she said as she hobbled out.

A short time later the girl and her friend entered the kitchen with the ingredients for the promised stir fry.

‘There you go,’ he said, happily indicating the clean wok and plates with the fork he was drying.

‘That’s great dad,’ she said as her friend put the food alongside the wok.

He watched his daughter as she stood in the middle of the kitchen looking lost and pathetic. ‘Are you going to be able to cook?’ he asked.

‘Erm, um, well… yes. It’s just that I’ve got these blisters on my hands. You know from using the crutches. Look…’ She held up a hand for inspection.

He looked at the blisters which appeared to be sore and painful. Then he looked at the worried expression on her face and finally gave in and reached for the wok. He shook his head slowly with a certain amount of resignation.

‘You,’ he said quietly, ‘are not only as daft as a box of lights but you’re about as much use as a chocolate teapot.’

Posted: Wednesday, January 14th, 2009 @ 9:11 pm
Categories: Uncategorized.
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