ramlet
follow
ramaudio
© cooperrepco ltd 2010
Powered by Serif

pagerams      writers      advertisers      media      follow      contact

pageram

 

If you want to sit back and relax, you can have the whole of pageram read to you by the author.

Click here

You can always check out the rams later.

Page 8

>>

<<

Pageram by Rob Mumford
chapters -- 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 12 14 15 16 17 18 19 20

>>

<<

 

The camera-tripod was to the left of the amp. Things were starting to look-up.

I wasted the rest of the afternoon pretending to take pictures of objects in the house and in the garden. When I was particularly pleased with the composition of a shot, I would make a “tuck-tush” noise. This activity was not overly rewarding but better than Bargain Hunt and Noel Bloody Edmonds. However, it wasn’t long before the familiar face of boredom popped his head round the door and whispered “Hello, Rob. It’s me again.”

I went to the back-bedroom and set the camera on the tripod. Then, I made my way downstairs and considered what he might do if he returned. The Kaiser Chiefs were predicting a riot as I passed through the kitchen. Not in my back garden, I hoped.

I went and stood in his footprints and placed my hands on the top of the fence. I looked up at the window and the camera. It wasn’t pointing at me. Bugger. I needed an assistant.

“Necessity” may be the mother of invention, but “Boredom” and “Stupidity” are close relatives. Within ten minutes the artificial Christmas tree was standing against the fence. It made for an excellent subject; it was the right height and it kept perfectly still. I focused on the tasteless red star at its peak and fired-off an imaginary salvo of “tuck-tushes”.

It was fun and I returned to the garden, satisfied with my stroke of brilliance. I moved the tree away from the fence and one of its wiry branches scratched my hand.

I looked at the tree. The red star became Danielle’s mother’s face. I took a step back and walked around behind her. I took another step back, paused, and then gave her arse a gentle kick. It felt good. I did it again and the tree fell to the ground.

“Another sherry, Marcia?”

 

 

“Rob’s dislike for Noel Edmonds runs quite deep. I don’t know where it comes from, and it’s quite unhealthy given that he has never met him.”

Will