The Gunship - Youagain visits the Sist-ter!

The Plot thickens, but the soup won't.

“You Again! You brought your bags again!”

“I've left him, Sister. This time it's for good.”  Said Youagain.

“For good again! Ha.” Sister had seen all this before. A few days of weeping, gnashing and knitting odd socks. No! Not odd socks, one without the other. Odd socks that didn't match in colour or size. Or where the heel ends up. And then back home to Wurzel Gummidge and his overgrown weeds' garden. (To the editor. Not weedy garden. A weeds' garden! Where lots of weeds own the garden.)

Will never need a scarecrow while he's around. She thought silently. Then she asked herself can a thought be silent? You hear it as you think/say it. Not getting any answer she continued. “He tried to poison me, you know?

“Ugh.” Youagain replied. Her eyes were on an Apple Tart, cooling on the kitchen table.

“Tart!” She shouted. “He's taken up with another tart! Another Polly.” In the past all the other women, or his girls as he called then, had been called Polly. Girls Ha!  Some of them had been hairy girls. One even had a beard. No hold on. That was Yougain - the morning after the night before - aren't all mornings after nights before. Doh! Doh! - when she looked in the bathroom mirror.

“With a so called salad.” Sister was on a roll here, still claiming that Pal had tried to poison her. “I know there were Dock Leaves in there. I had a nettle sting on my nose that mysteriously cleared up after.” Sister was one of those people who when they licked their lips – washed their face.

“I can't go back. He talks to slugs now.  Tart! Sister could I have a tlice of sart?”

 She was starting to salivate and slobber now that she had recovered her composure. I just put that in for dramatic effect. No way Jose could you ever say Youagain was composed. She was all shook up most of the time, wound up like the spring on a stopped clock at a traffic light. Like some obscure song lyric I heard or may not have heard one time or another.

“No! That tart is for after dinner. Have a sandwich if you are hungry. There's something in the fridge.”

So Youagain sat down at the table and made and ate a Something Sandwich, but even after that didn't feel satisfied. She remembered the leg of lamb 'remains' in the fridge at home and started to cry again.
“Oh that poor lamb.” She howled. “It saved our lives when the gas was left on by mistake. It blew out the match in time and now it's leg is in the fridge.”

 “If you loved it so much, why did you slaughter it?” Sister asked.

“We didn't slaughter her” Youagain sobbed. “But you wouldn't eat a lamb like that all in one go. She has three other legs left!”