Mrs. Scatter only reports in short e-mail bursts these days. Her long-winded farcical spiels have been reduced to quick knock-off observations. This morning she prepared to leave for the office …
She coiffed her hair in a perfect rumple, slipped on a pair of polished pumps, picked up her overlarge and overweight laptop case, kissed Mr. Scatter (whose bristly whiskers poked her in the forehead), waved and said, “I’m off to drive around my toilets.”
To be continued …
— Laura Grimes
Photo: More plumbing problems at Chez Scatter. (OK, we’re lying. Actually, it’s a seatless, or “squat,” outhouse near a tourist hut in Poland.) Tomasz Kuran, 2005, Wikimedia Commons.