the tragic tale of two not-so-great pretenders

This tragic tale began with the rumour the world’s most scrumptious zucchini (courgette) and cheesy pie had been cooked perfectly to perfection in ancient greco-roman earthenware (crockery). The tale tattled the pie was ready to scoff with scornful derision and mockery towards gentlemanly table manners.

This rumour resounded in the ears of two not-so-great pretenders where it was vigorously tossed, evenly sliced and finely torn in the screw-topped jar of their skulls, and produced a smooth thick plan to thieve the world’s most scrumptious zucchini (courgette) and cheesy pie. And eat it all.

The basic plan of the two not-so-great pretenders developed into a distinctive aroma with variations particularly suited for game (red meat not poultry) and boiled hard into a freshly ground black pepper prank with a chopped caper and sweet pickle escapade.

The two not-so-great pretenders located the location of the world’s most scrumptious zucchini (courgette) and cheesy pie where the tale started toasting lightly and began baking through to the centre.

BUZZZZZ!!

Bleeped the intercom in the apartment where the world’s most scrumptious zucchini (courgette) and cheesy pie had been cooked perfectly to perfection in ancient greco-roman earthenware (crockery) and was resting at room temperature on the kitchen bench of the apartment where the buzz’s boom alerted the apartment’s occupant.

Hullo?

Purred a sleepy voice.

Hi – it’s Ex Marks.

Hey – it’s The Spot.

Reverberated the two not-so-great pretenders through the intercom as they pretended to be two men they were not.

Oh, I am asleep, come up anyway.

Purred the sleepy voice as she released the ring tone and beeped the buzzer to open the foyer door of the apartment building where the world’s most scrumptious zucchini (courgette) and cheesy pie was resting at room temperature on the kitchen bench of the apartment she occupied.

The two not-so-great pretenders bustled and strolled through the foyer. Inside the elevator they pressed the silver square with rounded corners button marked Level Seven. At the seventh level they hustled down the hallway and produced a pre-determined key to Door Eleven.

Opening the door a sliver of rather lumpy but fine-textured golden light dimly lit the apartment. As the two not-so-great pretenders opened the door further, the glow lengthened and revealed the world’s most scrumptious zucchini (courgette) and cheesy pie resting at room temperature on the kitchen bench.

The two not-so-great pretenders strode stridently towards the pie. Once in the kitchen, four eyes rose slowly from feasting upon the world’s most scrumptious zucchini (courgette) and cheesy pie and began glaring at each other. Four eyes glowed greedily in the rather lumpy but fine-textured golden light.

Right about now this tragic tale twists surprisingly easily from a high fibre healthy piece of hearsay into a scandalously concealed and camouflaged suppression of satanic savagery.

IT’S ALL MINE Ex Marks!

Bellowed one not-so-great pretender as he lunged sideways and grabbed a butter knife off the kitchen bench!

NO The Spot! – IT’S ALL MINE!

Screamed the other not-so-great pretender as he swiftly scooped a dessert spoon from the top drawer in the kitchen where the world’s most scrumptious zucchini (courgette) and cheesy pie was resting on the bench.

The Spot, lowering his dessert spoon towards the pie and opening his mouth in anticipation of the first taste, was besieged by Ex Marks stabbing him brutally in the elbow with his butter knife in a bloodthirsty and diabolical effort to stop The Spot from eating any of the world’s most scrumptious zucchini (courgette) and cheesy pie!

The Spot howled at this inhuman heinous hostile gesture, and with hate-filled homicidal intentions gouged out Ex Marks right eyeball with his dessert spoon! A fierce fiendish and ferocious fight ensued, with the not-so-great pretenders battling each other – one with a butter knife, the other with a dessert spoon – both with bitter cold-blooded intensity, to a bloodthirsty barbaric end.

A sleepy voice half awoke, and purred,

Is there any milk for the morning coffee?

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Shirley Burley

Artwork Craft Creative Writing Graphic Design Photography

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