There was once a Mum, a Mum who regularly cursed herself for forgetting to remove the washing from the washing machine and it had part dried in stinky, damp dish rag style so she had to wash it all again. Anyway, one day this Mum was minding her own business, putting all manner of crap back in its rightful place when she spotted something most unusual. There, written on the inside of a cupboard door (she must get round to wiping them all down) in faint blue lettering was a sign.
She slammed the door shut again to give herself some time to think. Bloody hell! she thought. Who on earth could be asking for help from the INSIDE of this cupboard? she pondered. Well this is certainly a mystery. Ok, let’s think about this logically, is there likely to be a very small person inside the cupboard wanting my help? and then she snort laughed at the ridiculousness of that thought. But there COULD be! she argued with herself picturing some little fairy type like the ones in Labyrinth but then swiftly remembered they were also bitey little buggers and she should protect herself. Dad had brought home those big black industrial jobs that one time, god only knows what for. If he thought he was getting fun time with them he was sorely disappointed. She poked through an assortment of bleach and Zoflora products to pull out the big rubbery gloves. Pulling them on she stunk like a giant elastic band but she needed protection for this, for she could be in peril…or you know…about to get a mini fairy bite on the tip of her finger. These were dangerous times and she was fully prepared. To shit her pants. At least when she did she had the best hand protection on.
She slowly opened the cupboard door with a broom, she knew it was a bit stupid but you never can be too careful. Hang on, what if…what if it were those fandangly Weetabix with the raisins she’d bought and nobody wanted to eat? What if they were devastated to find they were near their best before and were slowly disintegrating into a brown, dusty mess? All alone in their abandonment, unloved and stale? Oh come on! she thought, that’s just bloody stupid! There’s plenty of other cereal in there for them to mingle with, imagine, it could be like some kind of Romeo and Juliet scenario only less Capulets v’s Montagues and more Cornflakes v’s Multigrain Hoops and a poor bashed up cornflake with a smashed off corner was begging me to end it’s miserable life. Mind you I don’t suppose ending your little existence by being smothered in milk and sugar and chewed to death really makes it any better! She cringed.
Right, let’s get a bloody grip of oneself and get on with it! she steeled herself. I’m a big strong woman, I can do this. She yanked up her jeggings (with great difficulty in those stupid gloves) giving herself a rather uncomfortable camel toe and cursed a bit ( a lot) before taking a tentative step towards the cursed cupboard.
Breathing quickly she got closer and closer until she was eye to eye with the Jacob’s crackers. She reached in slowly with her begloved hand and started to move things really hoping that nothing jumped out at her, she wasn’t all that good with scary things, in fact she was rather a pathetic wimp who still slept with the landing light on. Just then a bag of lentils saw their chance. They leapt forward and spilled all over the Mum, worktop, the floor, the whole fucking world. She thought bugger it, I’ll sort it out in a minute, I have someone or something needing my help desperately.
The more she looked the more confused she got, she couldn’t see anything unusual or out of place (apart from the poxy lentils of course) so she was completely stumped. Hang on. It suddenly hit her. What if…it was her other half who had written the note hoping that when his mother came round and offered to do the dishes she would see it and rescue him from a life of being poked for snoring and constantly told his feet and arse stink to high heaven? Nah, that’s stupid too. She dragged herself to her senses. That’s it I’ll just ring him and ask.
Just as she picked up her phone to call her fella and demand to know what the hell was going on in walked her Little Miss, face of an angel, attitude of Chucky who clocked the situation and had that oh crap I’m done for look on her face. “Do you know anything about this?” Mum asked. “Um, maybe I was playing escape rooms and I accidentally wrote on the cupboard door.”
That little shit! She thought.
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