Sheffield Memories - Compiled By L.S.Dunone

[back2basics 10]

Dark was the night. The fire flickered as we talked. Shadows danced around the room as the curtains twitched from the balmy summer air.

 

“It’s the PC brigade!”, my father exclaimed.

 

“No it’s liberal do-gooders!”, I responded.

 

“You have a lot to learn son, but the hate is strong in you. You are coming along just fine.” With that my father stood, and slowly walked to the mantle on the fireplace. He set the cup down and pulled out his pipe. “You know the Muslims probably have something to do with it as well.”

 

“Must have. It’s all of them trying to take our life style away from us.”

 

“Eye lad, for sure.”, raising his voice he almost shouted, “But they wont win lad! Churchill didn’t destroy the Nazis to let some hippie scum change my life”. He was agitated now, shifting backwards and forwards. He lifted the cup and slammed it down, sending earl grey spraying in every direction. Suddenly he fell, convulsing on the floor. Twitching and writhing in agony. I panicked. Searching for direction. My head spinning, my life passing through my mind like the number 72 bus to Woodseats.

 

“Dad? Are you ok?”. There was no response other than a muffled stutter. What should I do? The hospital was out, they have been infiltrated by terrorist Muslim doctors. The doctor’s office was closed, and the NHS helpline was useless, everybody knew that. It struck me like a lightening bolt from the clouds. My face flushed, I quickly I ran upstairs, skipping three stairs at a time. Using my arm as leverage on the banister I swiveled round the landing towards my room. The door opened easily, perhaps too easily. My tunnel like vision finally focusing on my PC. It was switched on, thank god. Time was of the essence, everything happening is slow motion. Quickly I typed.

 

s..h..e..f..f..i..e…l..d..f..o..r…u..m.c..o..u..k. I slammed the enter key down as if my life depended on it. Faster and faster I typed. I knew somebody on Sheffield forum could help. Deftly I explained the situation, asking for help and advice. What should I do? I waited. Refresh. Refresh. Refresh. Nothing. Then it came. The first response.

 

“It’s probably heartburn. Give him some milk.”

 

REFRESH

 

“Have you tried aspirin?”

 

REFRESH

 

“Take him to the hospital!”, stupid hippie I thought, always sympathizing with the terrorists.

 

REFRESH.

 

“Take him down to see the witch on London Road. She also does healing, reads tea leafs, crystal balls and does horoscopes”. There is was. I knew what had to be done. I leapt to me feet, my head now pounding. My veins almost bursting. I only touched two steps on the way down. I burst back in to the living room….

 

“What the hells wrong with you?”, said my dad, leaning against the fireplace.

 

“But… i…. you were….” I stammered.

 

“Are you going soft son? What on earths the matter? You know back in the war when the bombs were falling, we never got this worked up. It’s just these liberals, they make me so mad.”

 

I laughed, collapsing on the sofa.

 

“You know it’s the kids these days as well. Bloody chavs. Have you seen the graffiti everywhere these days?”

 

“Eye” I said. “It’s a bloody disgrace.”

 

The story and characters contained within are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to real people is purely coincidental.

[pattricia 575]

I do think you are very good. I enjoyed this.

[shoeshine 10]

You see! You see!

 

b2b is as barmy as seriessix......

[pattricia 575]

You see! You see!

 

b2b is as barmy as seriessix......

 

The more the merrier,barmy people I say. They say genius and madness are closely linked.

[shoeshine 10]

But can we cope with 2 maniacs, pattricia?

[pattricia 575]

But can we cope with 2 maniacs, pattricia?

 

there are 3 arent there, when you join in with seriessix ?

[seriessix 10]

http://sheffieldwriters.ath.cx/SFStoryArchive/1187721996.doc

[pattricia 575]

Still good. The best.

[seriessix 10]

Almost as soon as I sat down in the driver’s seat my mind raced back to when we had to shoe-horn little Cyril into a used thrombosis sock that I had found round the back of the Hallamsire Hospital after he prolapsed on the kitchen table......

 

http://sheffieldwriters.ath.cx/SFStoryArchive/1214594239.doc

[Hopman 46]

Just to add that the little book of the L.S. Dunone collected letters is still on sale at Broomhill.

[seriessix 10]

 

http://sheffieldwriters.ath.cx/SFStoryArchive/1224777530.doc

 

 

Slighty amended version...

 

http://sheffieldwriters.ath.cx/SFStoryArchive/1225475917.doc

[Hopman 46]

Another fine tale (no pun intended) although I wonder about the ability of nettles to penetrate fur coats.

Only a matter of time before the animal rights' brigade complain about this. NO ANIMALS WERE HURT DOWNLOADING THIS STORY. Hope that works.