The 2019 Annual Bloggers Bash Post Competition

The Annual Bloggers Bash Competition will be closing this Sunday and your opportunity to win some fabulous prizes will cease if you haven’t entered. This year’s theme, to recognise this is the fifth anniversary of the first Bash, is

Five

Please follow this link for the rules and entry form. And if you need some inspiration here is a short story to send you on your way

Five

Martin Nonplussed hated his Aunt Etherea with a passion born of her passive-aggressive put-downs and constant tormenting.

‘It’ll be yours when I’m gone, lad,’ she’d say, patting her pocket book.

They were all that was left of the Nonplussed clan and he had only agreed to care for the old witch because his mother had made him promise.

‘You’ll have all the wine, women and song you like, when I’m gone. Promise me you’ll given me a proper send off, sweetie.’

He promised and then headed for the garden to prune his frustrations away.

Finally Aunt Eherea ate one chocolate bonbon too many, swallowed too soon and expired in a phlegmy explosion of part masticated caramel and dentures.

After a cup of tea and a quick wipe with some convenient unguent, he took the pocket book to the Bank. The Manager, a droopy dyspeptic man called Undulate told him the current balance: fourteen pounds thirty-five pence. ‘There’s a safety deposit box, too.’

The box was encouragingly large and crammed with notes. Five pound notes. Mr Undulate whistled. ‘Haven’t seen these since I were a kiddie.’ A pause, then, ‘Shame the old lady didn’t get them changed.’

The notes, some seventy-one thousand, had ceased to be legal tender in 1961.

‘You might get a few quid at a dealer,’ Mr Undulate said helpfully.

Martin filled his shopping bag and returned to his Aunt’s house (rented, he now realised). He stared at his Aunt’s waxy and disturbingly scented corpse – the unguent hadn’t been a good call – sighed, and fetched the wheelbarrow.

In life, his Aunt had been many things he would have liked to have changed but there was one characteristic he found himself grateful for; her remarkable degree of desiccation. Combining her former fortune and her natural flammability he created a spectacular bonfire. The informal and no doubt illegal cremation lasted seventy one minutes. As the last of her rayon bloomers fizzled to an unnaturally bright neon green conclusion, Martin stomped on the ash pile and filled the barrow. Tomorrow, when she was cool, he would feed his aunt to his roses. Perhaps, at last, she would prove herself some use.

About TanGental

My name is Geoff Le Pard. Once I was a lawyer; now I am a writer. I've published four books - Dead Flies and Sherry Trifle, My Father and Other Liars, Salisbury Square and Buster & Moo. In addition I have published three anthologies of short stories and a memoir of my mother. More will appear soon. I will try and continue to blog regularly at geofflepard.com about whatever takes my fancy. I hope it does yours too. These are my thoughts and no one else is to blame. If you want to nab anything I post, please acknowledge where it came from.
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13 Responses to The 2019 Annual Bloggers Bash Post Competition

  1. What a way to leave this world (on both accounts). I hope the roses flourished.

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Well… Life’s no bed of roses. 🌹

    Liked by 2 people

  3. willowdot21 says:

    Lol Geoff you have an unusual sense of humour….. I live it !🤭

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Pingback: The 2019 Annual Bloggers Bash Post Competition | willowdot21

  5. I think his roses might just wither away – but you will all have another fabulous Bash! The fifth already and I still haven’t made it over 😀

    Liked by 2 people

  6. Oh glad his aunt came up smelling roses!

    Liked by 2 people

  7. Reblogged this on Author Don Massenzio and commented:
    Check out this post from Geoff Le Pard’s blog with The 2019 Annual Bloggers Bash Post Competition

    Liked by 2 people

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