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Rated: E · Fiction · Comedy · #2215900
Writer's Cramp
"Is there any point us opening today?" Josh said, looking around at the almost empty shelves. "I should be at home looking after my Dad. You know they stopped his carers?"

"That's not good. But you're on zero hours; if you don't work you don't get paid." The manager, Bert Hanson, looked about him. "Move the stock we do have up here." He pointed to the shelving nearest the tills. "Not the freezer stuff, Fred, you idiot." What they had barely filled the one shelving unit.

"Okay, now hows about we push all the empty shelves up to the back. Ye, you got it, Fred. Go help him Si." The space they created was huge.

"There's a cue outside, Boss," Fred said.

"Okay, I'm thinking. Emmm. You guys like supporting charity, ye?" Nodding heads. "Right, get some bags. Now what we got a lot of?"

"Scented candles. Box of one hundred, one pound each."

"Okay, ten to a bag. What else?"

"Adult nappies, deodorant, ..."

"Okay, okay. Grab me the walkie talkie, oh, and the megaphone. Great. Now let them in."

"Ladies and Gentlemen, please listen carefully. Move into the space, keeping a six foot gap from the next person.

Now, today we are running an auction for charity. The first item up is a bag of ten scented candles. Now who wants to start me off at 50p?"

Bert carried on in the same vein. Soon the only things left were the 'valuables'.

"Now for the big one. Rip that bag of nine open Fred. How much will you give me for this delightful, pink, quilted, toilet roll? Do I hear ten pounds? Fifteen, twenty ... five hundred from the gent by the door with his legs crossed. Going, going, okay Fred, throw it to him as he hits the head. Make sure he washes his hands before paying."

308 words
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