‘Well, where are they?’ I asked.
‘I bet they’re late,’ Mr. K muttered.
We waited, breathing in the sea-air on the gentle breeze, admiring the sparkle on the deep blue water, the emerald-green grass, and the rugged coastline. Then I closed my eyes, lay on the towel and napped.
After some minutes, I remarked, ‘They’re taking their time.’
What if this cockroach can read minds? Like Boris. I blocked my thoughts from him. ‘No, I don’t—just logic, if they go to the trouble of having a baby.’
‘Poor child. Should’ve never been born.’ Kirk edged closer to me and stroked my back.
I shrugged off his touch and moved away. ‘She had another child, was he yours?’
‘Hurry up! We’re being left behind,’ I waved my arms about, ‘it’s getting late!’
‘Urgh! There’s flies!’ Son 2 batted the air around his face. ‘I need a rest! I’m tired!’
‘Ooh, touchy! Touchy!’ Boris said. ‘You think hands are so bad? I think it’s time you learn your lesson.’ Boris signaled for another guard to stand on the other side of me. ‘Get her out of my sight. The next time I see her I want her as a mince sauce on my Magellan maggots.’ He purred, ‘Mmmm! Magellan maggots.’
Read more "Out of the Chocolate Box (65)"Finally, the boom gate rose, and I ferried the K-Team Young’uns to a highly sought-after carpark. We piled out of the car, sorted out backpacks, and with the sun warming our backs, commenced the hike around Dove Lake. At first, I had to drag a reluctant Son 2 to join us on this adventure, but soon, wooed by the brilliant scenery, he raced ahead to catch up to his older brother.
Read more "K-T-Y: A Perfect Cradle Mountain Day"After parking, Mr K leapt from the car. ‘Oh, looks like rain.’ He ripped out the “raincoats” and waved them in the air. ‘Come on boys, you need to be waterproof.’
Son 1 recoiled. ‘I’m not wearing that.’
‘No!’ Son 2 screamed and hid behind me.
‘Oh, yes, you will!’ Mr K said. ‘You’ll get wet and a chill and then catch a death of cold, if you don’t.’
‘No!’ both boys squealed and then scampered up the path.
A battle ensued; Mr K with garbage bag-ponchos verses sons refusing to wear the garbage bags.
Mutants appeared from nowhere, for their early morning swim. Their sack-like bodies flopped in the water.
Then the mutants spotted us. And they were after us.
‘Wanna go out with me?’ one asked his tongue hanging out in anticipation.
Another followed us like a shadow. ‘You be my frwend?’
