mr. right

I met my date at the Saint Benedict Hotel. He was sitting in an easy chair with a drink in his hand. First impression: a bit coarse for me. The shaggy distracted look of an armchair anarchist.

“Are you all right?” I said. “I’m Poppy.”

“Where did you spring up from?” he said. “You’ve given me a start.”

“I’ve just come from Westminster,” I said. “I work for the MP from Aberavon.”

“Bloody hell,” he said. “Plague on both your houses.”

“Oi, you are an anarchist.”

“Don’t vote – the government always wins.”

“Speaking of voting,” I said, “so far I’m giving you nought out of ten on the dating site.”

“If voting changed anything, they’d make it illegal.”

“Ta ta,” I said.

“Hang on,” he said. “I told them you’d pay for the drinks.”

for On-line Writer’s Guild

One Response

  1. Poor Poppy.
    This is fun. Thanks

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: