Saturday, November 25, 2017


‘You want me to do what?’

‘Some of those donut thingys.  Out on the main road.’

‘Granddad, I think …’

‘Everyone knows you nick cars and go joyriding, Tom.’

‘But …’

‘But nothing. I’m eighty three and it’s time I did something stupid.’

‘But …’

‘Just shut the fuck up and drive the bloody car.’

‘Don’t blame me if you have a heart attack.’

Tom revved the engine and dropped the clutch. He handbreaked into the first corner. Out past Jones’ farm he started to spin the car.


‘You mad old bastard.’

‘Where’d you’d think you’re genes came from?’

A drabble is a story of exactly 100 words.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

I like that bond you describe here, Rob...