Posts Tagged ‘tesco’

h1

Meeting an Old Friend.

May 20, 2013

They hadn’t seen each other since before the war.

The last time they had met, petty worries about locking your door or whether the oven was on still existed, children still asked for toys at Christmas.

Times had changed. George had changed. He could just about remember a time when his back leg didn’t ache, when his thoughts were not so soupy. Just about.

The old dog screwed up his failing eyes to try to make out what the big brown shape lumbering towards him from across the road was. It certainly wasn’t the bus he was waiting for. Buses didn’t cross roads like that.

The brown smudge got much larger until it filled George’s vision, he took a little step back.

“George?” a familiar voice boomed above him, far too loud and close, as always.

Through the cloudy mess of his thoughts a bolt of recognition cut a path through George’s mind.

“Bill?” he whispered in disbelief as he craned his neck up to behold his old friend. “I can’t believe it! You’re still alive!”

“Hah, as if I would let a little war kill me off!” Bill smiled.

“Have I got some stories for you…” George sighed.

So they talked until the sun went down.

———————————————————

Bit of a departure from the norm there, not sure what came over me.

Thanks to Dannie for the image, which is obviously from the Guardian. Obviously. Dannie.

h1

The Many Perils of Town.

November 29, 2012

They hadn’t seen each other in days. Weeks. Maybe even more than weeks. Hours.

It was in this time apart from his wife that Philip the lion learned  that life was a merciless and unfeeling onslaught of mishap after mishap.

He went to “The Argos”. They didn’t have even one of the toasters his wife had sent him to get. He didn’t know whether to get the slightly cheaper one that didn’t look as nice, it was only a toaster after all, but then, would she like it? He should check with her.

“I should check with her,” he said. But it sounded more like a roar, and everyone that was in Argos suddenly realised Philip was a lion, and they screamed and started running about.

Amidst the anarchy of frightened shoppers Philip attempted to call his wife, Macbeth, using his mobile phone. He hated his mobile phone, it was touch screen and didn’t really work with humongous claws. Eventually he managed to dial.

“Hello?” Macbeth’s voice was icy, she knew he had bollocksed it up.

“Hello. Um, they don’t have any of the toasters you wanted… what do you think of that cheaper one?”

“I can’t hear you, Phil! What’s all that screaming about?”

Philip hadn’t noticed the screaming. He looked up and immediately forgot about his phone call as he took in the scene of a mass of humans rushing around, shouting and smashing their own faces into open Argos catalogues in a state manic distress.

“Phil? Phil?!” Macbeth’s phone-based yells went unheard.

Philip decided that he should leave Argos, because everyone was mental, so he did.

His next stop was Greggs. They had those cheese pasties that he liked, and it was just before lunchtime so he could beat the queue. The hulking lion squeezed into the tiny Greggs and put his paws on the counter. Unfortunately, the woman behind the counter had noticed he was a lion and passed out before he’d managed to order.

“The is becoming a proper shit day,” Philip muttered to himself.

He awkwardly reversed his frame back out of Gregs, only to be greeted by an angry mob of idiots with pitchforks and Nerf guns. One person had a trowel. What a dick. What would he be able to do to a lion with a trowel? Arsehole.

Philip was only trying to go to the shops. He was very upset.

“I’m only trying to do some shopping!” Philip addressed the angry mob. “Why can’t you leave me alone?”

But all the people heard were roars that sounded like “I AM LION MAN. I AM GOING TO EAT YOU AND YOUR BABIES.” So they shouted and screamed and ran at Philip with their shit weapons and their shit faces, and Philip fled from them.

He fled out of town, out into the African plains. By this time the members of the mob had grown too fatigued to continue, and had gone back to buy 2 for 1 offers at Tesco.

Philip trudged back home, tired, panting. And there was Macbeth. She looked up from her copy of Fifty Shades of Grey and frowned, but then saw the state he was in. She pounced on his head and have him a massive hug.

“I was worried about you!” she cooed.

“I was worried about me! Everyone was crazy in town! They had weapons and kept shouting at me!” Philip grunted from beneath his wife.

“And that, dear husband, is why we should only shop online, like I said!”

So they never went into town again.

———————————————-

Thank you to the lovely Tim for the image, I presume he got it from The Sun, because he’s like that.

h1

The One Weakness of a Rabbit.

September 3, 2012

“You can say what you like,” Barry the dog said as he chased his friend through the woods, “You’re a massive rabbit, and this is an unfair game of tig.”

The “massive rabbit” in question was Degas, and he was massive, and he was a rabbit.

“Stop moaning, Barry, and catch me!” In truth, Degas knew that the game was unfair, but he was pretty sick of everyone thinking dogs were ace and not thinking rabbits were quite as ace, so didn’t care.

The pair dashed through the thick woods of the English countryside, avoiding hobbits and dragons and badgers. Once or twice they took a break to eat blackberries. Neither of them particularly liked blackberries, but they were free, and times were economically tough. Blackberries were like two pounds or something at Tesco!

They ran again. Barry was doing a pretty good job at keeping up, he leapt gracefully through the bushes in pursuit of the white cotton tail bobbing up and down a few metres in front, but he was never going to catch his friend at this rate. He looked down at his tiny legs and sighed.

“If only I was a doberman,” Barry huffed to himself.

Degas was thinking about carrots and little blue jackets, and tiny shoes, like all rabbits do when they’re in the zone. He was speeding away.

A cunning thought came to Barry.

“Degas!” he shouted. “Oi!”

“Don’t distract me Barry! I know your game!” Degas smiled, but slowed his pace slightly to listen.

Barry had him where he wanted him… “What are you going to watch now that Desperate Housewives has finished?”

It struck Degas like a thunderbolt from a pikachu. What was he going to watch now that Desperate Housewives had finished?! He stopped dead, caught in the headlights of a world without Desperate Housewives, and Barry saw his chance. He dived through the air and landed square on Degas’ back.

“Tig!” he yelled, “I got you, silly rabbit!”

“How did you know my weakness?” Degas panted, still a bit panicked.

But Barry just winked at the camera, and the credits rolled.

————————————-

Thanks to Amy for the image (not sure where it’s from, if you know let me know).