Short Cuts: A Collection of Very Short Stories and Humorous Articles.

By Patrick D Cousins

Short Cuts is a collection of short stories and humorous articles.

• Language: English
• Publisher: BookBaby
• Release date: Jul 17, 2015
• ISBN: 9781483556741

Book preview

Clauses

An Absolute Classic

Hello, my name’s Mrs Humphries,said the elderly female voice, I’m phoning about your ad in the local paper - about roof repairs.

Yes, love, how can I help you? asked Arthur.

I was wondering if maybe you could pop round and have a look at my roof, when you’re in the area.

Of course I can, love, that’s what I’m here for. What seems to be the problem?

Well, nothing as far as I’m aware, but better safe than sorry, that’s what my husband used to say. It says in your advert that you do free inspections?

That’s right, love, said Arthur, Whereabouts are you, exactly? She gave him the address and he asked her to hang on while he ‘checked his diary’.

As it happens, Mrs Humphries, I’ll be in that area tomorrow afternoon; I can fit you in at two-thirty, if that’s OK.

That would be perfect.

Mrs Humphries was busy in the garden when Arthur arrived. The Jack Russell left her side and rushed towards him, yapping and snarling I’ve called about the roof, love, he said, smiling as the terrier ripped at the bottoms of his trousers.

Oh, yes, hello. Bertie, heel! the dog gave a last tug at the trouser leg before trotting reluctantly back to her side.

I’ll leave you to it, she said, I’m rather busy at the moment. My daughter’s coming to pick me up, and I’m trying to catch up with the gardening. You can’t turn your back on it for five minutes at this time of year, can you?

Arthur smiled and nodded his agreement, then walked back to his van to unload the ladder.

He climbed the ladder to the roof and lit a cigarette, then sat and admired the scenery, especially the E-type Jaguar parked against the hedge in the corner of the front garden. Apart from a heavy layer of dust and a couple of flat tyres it looked to be in good nick. Got to be worth thirty grand. Forty, maybe.

He finished his cigarette then climbed back down the ladder. Nothing too serious, love, he told her. The tiles round the chimney need a bit of attention, I reckon five hundred should cover it. I can fit you in next week if you like.

Oh, that would be wonderful, I’ll be around all next week.

Nice car, Arthur nodded towards the Jag, Yours, is it?

Huh, that was my late husband’s toy. He’d had it from new. Hardly ever drove the thing - spent all his spare time polishing it. It’s been sitting there since he passed away last year. I’ll be glad to see the back of it, a man’s coming round on Friday, said he could give me four thousand pounds for it.

"Four thousand…"

I know, crazy, isn’t it? Still, if that’s what he wants to do why should I argue?

No, I mean, I love old cars – I could give you even more than that.

Oh, no, I couldn’t do that, he seemed such a nice man.

I’ll give you five thousand. Cash. I can bring it round tomorrow afternoon.

Mrs Humphries furrowed her brow, I don’t know-

I like you, Mrs Humphries, said Arthur, You remind me of my mum. Tell you what I’ll do: I’ll bring you five grand tomorrow – in readies – then come back next week and fix your roof for nothing, how’s that?

Well… Oh, alright, then. But I don’t know what I’m going to tell this other man.

Mrs Humphries was pottering in the garden again when Arthur arrived with his van and a trailer. He grinned broadly as he walked towards her, taking a thick envelope from his inside pocket. Good boy, Bertie, he said, trying to drag his leg free.

Mrs Humphries didn’t look quite as pleased as she removed her gardening gloves and ran her fingers through her grey hair. You’re going to be so annoyed with me, she said, You’ll never guess what I did. I put the keys and the paperwork for the car in my handbag, so that I’d know where it all was. Then I went and left the bag at my daughter’s house and she’s gone to London and won’t be back until Saturday. Arthur’s grin disappeared.

"And then that nice man phoned up - you know, the one who wants to give me four thousand pounds - and I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that I was selling the car to someone else. He