The Tell-Tale Lion / December 12 2007
‘Go on,’ she said, ‘nobody will see you.’
That was my mother – yes, my mother - egging me on to steal a small stone lion from the driveway of a derelict public house on the outskirts of the village yesterday.
‘He will look marvellous in our front garden,’ she insisted, nudging me ever forward.
‘Yes, but mum, it’s stealing.’ I was trying really hard to reason with her.
‘Don’t be so silly!’ she protested. ‘Nobody wants that old thing – and anyway, I thought you were a punk?’
‘Mum, I – ‘
‘I shan’t tell anyone, darling. A lick of paint and he will look glorious!’
You see what I have to put up with? We wandered home in silence. She was sulking because I had refused to liberate the ugly thing from its plinth. ‘It would’ve broken if I’d tried to remove it,’ I pleaded softly.
‘Do you think it will snow tomorrow?’ she asked.
Filed under Family / Temptation / Vandalism
Comments
2 comments on “The Tell-Tale Lion”
Jo Beaufoix / December 13th, 2007 at 11:21 pm
Hee hee.
I never pictured Mrs Fantastic as a rebel.
I’d go and nick the Lion under cover of darkness and present it to her as a Christmas present.
Napoleon Fantastic / December 14th, 2007 at 1:17 pm
Jo,
You’d be surprised - she can be a bit that way, you know. She spent time with some gypsies in Warsop in her younger days.
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