Bert felt jealous, cheated on, and blue. Then he discovered he could morph into a giant nightmarish slug...
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On Wednesdays and Sundays I’m blogging nibble-sized chunks of new ‘Life in the Clouds’ novellas. You can check in regularly and read them bit for bit, or leave a message in my 'contact' page, and I'll send the entire digital story to you for free when published.
Life in the Clouds #6: Take a Slug ® James Field.
On the edge of Bushy, Olive halted, opened the car’s bonnet, tugged off a spark plug cap, and placed it back on loosely so it didn’t make contact. When she started the engine again, it bucked and spat, missing on one cylinder, with the unattached plug.
“I suppose there must be something wrong with the ignition,” she said cheerfully.
With the car struggling to keep up with the traffic, she ran it into a garage in Bushy. Most lights were out, making it look closed. She spotted an old guy, busy emptying the forecourt rubbish bins, and surmised he was the night cleaner.
“Are there any mechanics here?” asked Olive through her car window.
The dumpy little man ceased his work and gaped at Olive, his face blank. Then he must have realised that her car engine sounded sick, and he said. “No, Ma’am; guess you’ll have to leave it till morning.”
“Damn! Something is wrong with the carburettor or the ignition.” She gave a heavy sigh. “Well, I’ll leave it, then. Will you be here in the morning when the mechanic comes?”
“Good. Could you please tell him I must have the car by tomorrow noon? No, by tomorrow at nine. Now, don’t forget. This will help your memory.” She handed a twenty-pound note to the cleaner, who grinned and said: “Yes, Ma’am; that’ll help my memory a lot!” He stuffed the money into a pocket and leaned closer. “What name shall I tell him?”
“Uh-my name? Oh, most people know me as Sugar Pop, but Miss Hanson will do. Remember now, I’ll be back for the car at nine tomorrow.”
To be continued…
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The Thursday Murder Club by Richard Osman
My rating: 2 of 5 stars
There’s a lot to like and a lot to dislike in this story. I like that it’s cosy, funny, and heart-warming. The plot, however, is a tragedy. There are two murders, and every character in the book, of which there are many, has a motif. With so many twists, turns, and red herrings throughout the narrative, it lost me in a virtual maze.
But the author commits the gravest crime: he introduces a new, guilty character right at the end of the story. Tut, tut, naughty.
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