Jeffw's Blog

Get OUT of my pub!

Just joking, WELCOME! Here, you'll find some short fiction stories, anecdotes and my possible grumpy opinion on pretty much everything and anything. As you didn't in the slightest asked for it and because I can be magnanimous, I'll try to wrap it all in a clever cocktail of sarcastic witticism and stylish dark humour of the latest fashion, under the icy sophistication of which, you'll discern my true cry of despair to witness our world going to pot... or maybe it's just something I ate.
Don't hesitate to leave a comment! Thanks you, come again.

Caution MAY CONTAIN STRONG LANGUAGE AND HAZARDOUS PUNCTUATION... and with a bit of luck, some English too.

Sunday, 13 November 2011

Four Wheeled Shelter

Told you we would see him again... Rupert returns !... to do nothing, as usual...

Rupert Rutherford (the third) was at the wheel of his pristine Ford Capri, like every morning, at 8.12am. And, as usual, like the traffic surrounding him, he was going nowhere fast. Birthday or not, the M4 was as grey and sluggish as it has ever been. But Rupert didn't mind. There's not much that Rupert minded.
He was comfortable, warm and dry, and breathing in the faintest pine wood smell of a very sober looking air-freshener. Rupert didn't really love this car – he wasn't exactly of the petrol-head type – but he had a strong sense of gratefulness towards it. It was, in a way, his sanctuary. He always felt secure in this beige interior... and he secretly liked the almost corduroy fabric of the seats.
He had bought the Ford second hand, a couple of years ago, and had been relatively proud about it – unlike his wife, Bernadette, who positively hated the car – not so much because it was a bargain, it wasn't, but it had been very clean... and still was.
In the background, Radio 4 was playing, on the verge of human perception, some inane babbling on subjects that were of no interest to Rupert.

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