“Those damned scrap merchants are at it again. Dumping their stuff in our car park whilst they gallivant around the town! Mr Fletcher is going to go crazy! Jason, why haven’t you been keeping things under control?”
“Ah, Dad, that ain’t fair! You’ve had me chasing round this stupid car park all bloody day. It’s been chucking it down with rain and you’ve been up in the office, all cozy and warm, drinking coffee!”
“Less of your cheek, boy. And whilst we’re on duty, it’s Mr Allen to you, not ‘Dad’. Fletcher Park & Ride is a stickler for procedure.”
“Dad. I think – “
“Shush! I’m on the phone to ‘Crush & Burn’. I’m sick of these people, messing up our car parks, taking all the spaces and -“
But Dad just wouldn’t listen. He shooed his son away, intent on his revenge. They’d regret parking here, once they returned to find their precious cargo gone, crushed into a small cube of metal and wood and carted off to the dump.
Jason sighed, picturing the scene at home – a broken back door, TV, fridge and freezer gone, and now crushed beyond redemption. Mum would go crazy, never mind Mr Fletcher….
I decided to follow last weekend’s footsteps into Alistair’s Sunday Photo Fiction again, and get creative in a non-poetic way. This week, the story hasn’t been so obvious as my family history piece last week, but hopefully, it still entertained you all!
Do take part if you have time, or just pop over and read the other entries!