Tag Archives: accident

2303. Stage fright

Charlie was the lead pig in a musical production of Animal Farm. An accident happened towards the end of the third performance. Charlie had to sit at a table and drink tea. It was then that he spilt tea all over his lap and it left a big wet patch. He finished his performance looking as though he had wet his pants. The costume would be permanently stained if it wasn’t cleaned immediately.

He took it straight to the dry-cleaners first thing in the morning. “I need the costume for tonight’s performance,” Charlie told the woman at the dry-cleaning counter. “Could it be cleaned as a priority?”

Charlie was told that he could pick it up at 5.30 pm. The curtains opened at 7. Charlie arrived to pick up the costume early. It was 5.15 – and the place was all locked up. No one was about. Clearly they had finished the day early.

Dear Reader, you shall be spared the details. For the next hour Charlie raced around in a panic. He managed to locate the owner. The costume was collected. It was a quarter to 7. Only 15 minutes to get ready. He dressed in his pig costume at home and raced in the car to the theatre. It was now 5 to 7. Charlie was sweating like a pig.

The theatre was locked. It was Wednesday. There was no performance on Wednesdays.

2268. Dulcie’s French onion soup

Dulcie was having the worst day possible. She had planned to have a lovely day. She would potter in the sunshine in her garden and in the evening when the day turned chilly she would light the fire and cook up a big comforting dish of French onion soup.

The first crisis occurred when she realized she was out of bread. The local baker usually had a little of yesterday’s bread. Stale bread was best for onion soup. She would get some of that. No sooner had she left the baker’s in her car when she hit a pedestrian. Dulcie had been driving at a fair speed and the pedestrian appeared from nowhere. It was an old lady with a walker. It wasn’t Dulcie’s fault but it certainly contributed to her day not going well.

Upon eventually arriving home she realized that she was out of onions. Why oh why hadn’t she checked before she left home the first time? It was back into the car.

As she passed the spot where she had hit the little old lady it was a great relief. Clearly someone must have found the body. It had been taken away.

2176. Whizzing along

Neil was whizzing along the highway in his little blue car when suddenly a bit fell off. He wasn’t sure what bit it was but couldn’t stop because there was traffic everywhere and they were moving along as if in convoy at a reasonable rate.

Anyway, the car seemed to be going well, and then the outside mirrors on both sides fell off. Before he could think, the hood (bonnet) had blown off and then the trunk (boot). Next he saw a wheel race along the road ahead of him, and then another.

It didn’t take long before he was whizzing along clinging to nothing but the steering wheel.  Next thing, wouldn’t you know it, even the steering wheel zoomed off into nowhere.

It was then Neil realized what had happened. A few miles back on the road he was in a car accident. He was dead. Now he was whizzing along in another dimension altogether.

2139. Everything was hunky-dory

Everything was hunky-dory. Stan had arranged the murder to perfection. Absolutely nothing could go wrong. His wife was definitely on her last legs. He had cut the brake cable on her car. Next time she went out she need only drive out the gate, onto the road, and over the cliff.

“Goodbye, Honey,” he said cheerfully as Patsy left to go shopping. “I’ll open the driveway gate for you.”

“That’s very kind,” said Patsy as she climbed into the car.

Stan opened the gate and stood there ready to close it after she had passed. All was going well. Everything was hunky-dory. Patsy headed for the gate. Her foot slipped on the accelerator.

No brakes.

2135. In a pickle

Fergus was pickling cucumbers. There were many recipes but the one he was using was called “Bread and Butter”. The recipe for pickled cucumbers had explained that it was called “Bread and Butter Pickled Cucumbers” because the pickled cucumbers tasted delicious on bread and butter.

Fergus had never pickled cucumbers before. The recipe said to begin by finely slicing the cucumbers. The quantity on the recipe said to finely slice eight medium-sized cucumbers. So far Fergus had carefully sliced two cucumbers and it had taken ages. His wife said “Don’t be so fussy darling”. So he began slicing them hurriedly and not so perfectly.

He was just beginning to slice his fourth cucumber when he cut off the top of a finger. On the way home from the hospital Fergus’ wife popped into a shop and bought a large jar of Bread and Butter Pickled Cucumbers for half the price of eight fresh cucumbers.

Then real tragedy struck. Once home they opened the jar of cucumbers, got out the sliced bread, and discovered they were out of butter.

2093. Oh what a tragedy!

Have you any idea how expensive it is to get a divorce? Raymond wanted to get rid of his wife but he wasn’t keen to lose almost half of what he’d worked for throughout his life. It was cheaper (and quicker) simply to get rid of her in a cunning and imperceptible way.

He devised a fabulous plan. As far as he could work out, it hadn’t been done before – at least he’d never heard of it. He had one of those cars whereby the driver had controls to lock the car doors. It was a child protection device. If the children in the back and passenger seats were messing around they couldn’t accidently open the door and fall out.

What Raymond would do was to stall the car on a rail crossing just as a train was hurtling towards them. Then he’d quickly press the button to lock his wife’s door, leap out his own door, and… Oh what a tragedy! Oh what a sadness! Why did it happen to me?

It wasn’t exactly something he could practise. After all, how many cars can one afford? But he drove the route several times and knew well the times the trains passed.

The day arrived. They were to visit great aunt Maude and bring her the usual weekly supply of chocolate and cat food. They were just about to leave (Raymond was actually wearing his running shoes!) when a message came that great Aunt Maud’s sister also wanted to visit Maude, and could they pick her up on the way? That ruined things. The request meant they would have to take another route. Murder would have to wait another day.

The following week off they went on their habitual visit. Raymond’s wife (goodness, as yet she is not introduced – her name was Fiona) had trouble dragging Raymond’s drugged body to the garage and into the car. Once done she drove to the rail crossing and stopped. She got out to watch.

Oh what a tragedy! Oh what a sadness! Why did it happen to me?

(P.S. A Happy Easter to all who wish to be wished such! I shall be hopefully back with a murder on the 5th, Easter Monday!)

1908. Adriana, the pessimist

It was a long weekend. Monday was a public holiday so everyone took Friday off as well. Adriana knew with the certitude of long experience that with everything shut for the weekend things in her life would go wrong. The freezer would die, the shower nozzle would jam, the dog’s ears would get infected, the internet would go down, young Charlie would trip and break a finger. All these “emergencies” cost twice the amount (or more) to get attended to on a long weekend.

Yes, Adriana was what some people called a pessimist. Her friends urged her to take a more positive approach to life. “What if you looked on the bright side?” asked Hilda.

“You read too much and live in a world of fiction, Adriana,” said Ivan.

“Buck out of it, Adriana,” said Gwenda. “It’s negative, negative, negative.”

“I can’t help it,” said Adriana. “I just know during this long weekend that everything will go wrong. The freezer will die, the shower nozzle will jam, the dog’s ears will get infected, the internet will go down, young Charlie will trip and break a finger.”

But, miracle of miracles! None of this happened because first thing in the morning Adriana was in a car crash on the way to get milk from the corner shop.

Repeat of Story 386: Marietta plans a murder

(This is the sixth story in a week or so of repeats. “Marietta plans a murder” first appeared on this blog on 31 October 2014.)

Don’t get me wrong. Marietta wasn’t an evil person. When she decided to murder her husband it was out of the purest of intentions. He had been unfaithful.

Marietta had always vouched for the sanctity of marriage. She couldn’t understand why all these participants in broken marriages insisted on divorce. Hadn’t they vowed to remain faithful unto death?

Now that her husband had committed infidelity after infidelity she knew exactly how these other people felt. Divorce was not good enough. She had promised unto death and that’s what she was going to do.

But how best to go about it and not get caught? Poison? The autopsy would discover it. Gunshot? It would have to be in self-defence, and that would be too difficult to set up.

She would simply (after searching it online) “undo the brakes” of his car. And that’s what she did! He drove to the pub every Thursday evening over a wild and winding road. Thursday was perfect. That was the evening she attended her prayer meeting. She could feign distress, with a touch of hysteria, when the sad news was phoned through.

She drove off in her car for the prayer meeting. It was with a certain amount of nervous excitement.

“Goodbye, darling,” she waved. “Goodbye!”

All that can be said is that great minds think alike. Marietta and her husband were suited to each other down to the ground.

May she rest in peace.

Repeat of Story 693: I was driving along quite comfy

(This is the second story in a week or so of repeats. “I was driving along quite comfy” first appeared on this blog on 3 September 2015.)

I was driving along quite comfy, thank you, with the radio playing a bit of head banging stuff, and following this hearse that must’ve been heading for a cemetery or a crematorium or a funeral parlour or somewhere. And suddenly the back door of the hearse flew up in the air and out fell a coffin.

Well I stopped immediately before I hit the coffin, which I did just a bit, and the lid cracked, and a bit of the side, and out popped a leg and a foot in a pair of brown trousers with a well-worn cosy slipper with a tartan pattern.

I tooted my horn furiously but the hearse kept going, like it was being driven by a robot or something and like the undertaker didn’t care. He was probably texting his girlfriend or something anyway and didn’t seem to notice the difference.

All happened so suddenly, in the flash of an eye, and the next thing the truck following me went wham straight into the back of my car. My car shot forward flat out and knocked the coffin in the air a bit and it fell down and sort of shattered completely open in the middle of the road.

A couple of bystanders were already watching, and one looked horrified and the other was laughing. And the back of my car seemed to be a bit of a wreck. I hope the hearse is insured because I didn’t have the money to fork out for a new car, or even to get the old one fixed.

All this was going through my head, and the next thing there was a police officer asking what had happened, and by now I didn’t have a clue. So I sort of repeated everything I’ve just told you now, and the police officer thought I was talking nonsense because I was shocked, and told me to wait over by the side of the road until he’d finished asking everyone else questions.

So that’s what I’m doing now; waiting for the cop to finish. The coffin’s still sitting on the road. Everyone is too busy telling the policeman what went on to worry about the body. It’s dead anyway. But I wish he’d hurry because I’ve got to sort out this mess about my wrecked car.

Here comes the hearse now. Maybe that’ll hurry things along a bit. And I hope no one believes the undertaker when he spins some cock-and-bull yarn about me starting the ball rolling when I hit the back of the hearse at full speed.