Singing Till The Sky Screams #writephoto

Harrison Harris pulled at the straps of his overalls and sucked on his pipe. ‘Nasty,’ he opined.

Mrs Jepson-Soffit folded her arms tighter across her chest causing her bosoms to wonder, not for the first time if they had chosen the right location to hibernate. ‘Mr Harris, I did not call you for a value judgement but merely to tell me why I have a crack in my sky and what you can do about it.’

Harrison sucked harder and winced. The cold air that was already pouring through the firmamental fissure appeared to have overwhelmed the warming properties of his tobacco and caused icicles to form on his oesophagus. ‘Do you have a taper?’

‘I’m sorry, Mr Harrison but why on earth would I possess a non-indigenous pig-like quadruped in North Yorkshire and even if I did why would I give it to you?’

‘A taper, you know the thing you use to light the gas, not a bloody tapir?’ Harrison breathed in deeply but carefully, trying to avoid doing any more damage to his internal organs. ‘Madam.’

‘No I do not. I don’t approve of pipes, not since my husband Roddick accidentally impaled Maestro Godwit who was trying to perform the Heimlich manoeuvre on him during his antepenultimate hiccoughing fit in the autumn of ‘17. The poor man had his repertoire severely compromised as a result. What about my sky?’

Harrison tried to keep calm but he could feel the freeze spreading to his larynx. ‘What did you do?’

‘Is that relevant? One minute the sky was satisfactorily overcast, the next that split had appeared and the weather had become incorrigibly inclement. I have guests coming in,’ she consulted her wrist watch, ‘forty minutes and they are expecting to be royally entertained, not cryogenically embalmed. What can you do?’

‘Were you planning an al fresco opera, by any chance? Only we’ve had a few climatic contrafabulations recently what with genetically modified sopranos competing to bring the house down only it’s gone a bit far.’

Mrs Jepson-Soffit shuffled her substructure and sighed. ‘Geraldine, Roddick’s eldest by the first violin entered X factor and wanted a couple of enhancements. She rather overdid it.’

Harrison was already moving toward his van. He stood on the bumper and pulled off the ladders. ‘I’ll have a quick squizz and see if I can staple the stratosphere together. Just a temporary solution, of course but you’ll be able to have your soirée with a few additional blankets and some napalm bottom warmers. These things often fix themselves anyway. Low pressure over the Chindits coupled with an effervescence of cocoa in the Maltings and you’ll never know anything was amiss. Though I’d recommend you fit a double-trenchable silencer to your step daughter in future.’

‘Thank you. I’m most grateful.’

‘No problem,though if you could see about that taper I’d be very grateful. I think I’m my epiglottis is packing up to go somewhere warmer.’

‘Oh don’t worry Mr Harris. My body parts are always deserting me. Why only last week my anus handed in her notice. Apparently she feels neglected and wants to work for someone more discerning. It’s the third this year and quite frankly I’m fed up having to hold myself. Now, a schooner of sherry before you go about your work?’

This was written in response to the latest #writephoto prompt

About TanGental

My name is Geoff Le Pard. Once I was a lawyer; now I am a writer. I've published several books: a four book series following Harry Spittle as he grows from hapless student to hapless partner in a London law firm; four others in different genres; a book of poetry; four anthologies of short fiction; and a memoir of my mother. I have several more in the pipeline. I have been blogging regularly since 2014, on topic as diverse as: poetry based on famous poems; memories from my life; my garden; my dog; a whole variety of short fiction; my attempts at baking and food; travel and the consequent disasters; theatre, film and book reviews; and the occasional thought piece. Mostly it is whatever takes my fancy. I avoid politics, mostly, and religion, always. I don't mean to upset anyone but if I do, well, sorry and I suggest you go elsewhere. 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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17 Responses to Singing Till The Sky Screams #writephoto

  1. Ritu says:

    You don’t half make me giggle!

    Liked by 2 people

  2. Sue Vincent says:

    The ‘X’ Factor? This is why I don’t have TV… 😉

    Liked by 2 people

  3. Mick Canning says:

    Explains a lot…

    Liked by 1 person

  4. You have certainly described the side effects of incremental weather well, Geoff.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. Amusing in a weird kind of way:)

    Liked by 1 person

  6. willowdot21 says:

    Heaven help us all..
    PLEASE! 🥴💜💜💜

    Liked by 1 person

  7. Pingback: Singing Till The Sky Screams ~ Geoff Le Pard #writephoto | Sue Vincent's Daily Echo

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