On the step once more, germ-ridden boy gone from sight, Percy wrote an email to Art.
Art,
Let me begin by saying you are a bastard.
I’m just waiting for your sister and her daughter to finish getting ready to go out. No offence, but I can now see how you managed to refine ignoring the demands of your wife. You had practice growing up. You must have been conditioned to find comfort within the nag. Also, I imagined your niece to be around ten or twelve years of age, yet ended up with an angry morph. Explain.
Anyhow, just a quick note to say cheers mate. I will of course return the favour. I am considering what top tip I might pass on to your wife regarding the latest thinking on creating a successful vegetable patch. I need to hone the idea, but I am thinking organic rather than chemical warfare, something to do with African land snails.
Whatever happens, remember this: don’t look down at the carrots, look over your shoulder.