I was hiding behind the hedge, wishing I hadn’t trimmed it the week before. I hadn’t expected my neighbour to hear the screams and call the police, but it wasn’t looking too bad. The noise of the gale covered me shooting out of the back door when I saw blue lights in the street, and I was wearing shoes two sizes bigger than my feet so the footprints wouldn’t give me away. Level headed, you see.
All I had to do was wait until PC Plod went back to the front of the house. Then I could hop over the garden fence and wait for her life insurance. I’d have to be desolate of course. It would be agony to accept the gift of some housebreaker, especially as Plod of the Yard couldn’t work out who the hell he was. I’d have to take my broken heart abroad. Perhaps the Caribbean. Console myself with a lovely on each arm. Wearing bikinis. Thong bikinis. Or just thongs…
Where was I?
Ah yes, the sheet. Well the thing came sweeping down on me like a banshee come for the soul of the dead. Strange fancies. The wind was strong enough to cover my yelp, so I could have got away with it even then. Trouble was, I leapt up and tried to run away from the thing. Smack into PC Plod, who’d just come out the back door. Landed right on top of him and knocked the breath out of him. He could hardly manage to say, ‘you’re nicked’.
So I’ll be waiting a while for those thong bikinis. A long while. Perhaps we could put a poster on the wall?
What’s your story, cellmate?