Photographic Premonition

‘Bitte! Bitte!’ Amie pleaded. ‘Please don’t hurt me.’
Zwar raised his hand. ‘I won’t.’
She backed against the wardrobe.
‘Believe me.’ Naturally he wouldn’t harm her. A pretty looking fraulein like her?

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Conversant in Proper English

‘You know, you really don’t speak well, do you Lee-Anne, not very ladylike, not ladylike at all,’ Tony sneered.
‘Wha’?’
‘See what I mean? See what I mean?’
By this time, we’d reached a waterhole. Scattered along the edges of the pool, our old friends, the paddy melons.
I looked through Tony’s broad curly topped head, avoiding his spectacle-framed eyes. ‘What’s wrong with ‘what’?’
‘You should say ‘I beg your pardon’.’ Tony leaned forward and stabbed a finger in the air. ‘Haven’t you learnt anything on this trip? How will you get anywhere in life with gutter manners like you’ve got?’
‘I—’ slowly I bent down, ‘beg—’ and picked up a melon ‘your—’ and then straightened up, ‘pardon?’ Then I positioned my missile ready to throw at this self-proposed teacher of elocution and manners.
I took aim.

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Forced to Simplify

In the light of the half moon, fire, and gas-lamp, Dad prepared a meal of pea and ham soup, damper, and chocolate pudding with custard for dessert. As we licked our plates clean, Dad motioned to my brother (MB). ‘How much money have you got?’
MB stopped mid-way through a swipe of plate, tongue sticking out. He shook his head, and shrugged. ‘Nothing,’ he lisped.

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