© Bruce Goodman 31 July 2022
(Bits of this story are pinched from Virginia Woolf)
It was not to be Orlando’s lucky day. He was about to put his head in the gas oven when he realized he couldn’t reach the knobs to turn it on while his head was so low. So he had to get up from his kneeling position and just as he did his sister barged in and said, Oh! I see you’re about to cook and I was going to invite you for dinner this evening. We’re having guests. They are from the Netherlands and I know you speak a bit of Dutch.
I don’t speak much Dutch really, said Orlando, but I suppose I’ll come if it would help.
It certainly would help, said Orlando’s sister – whose name was Bridie. Apparently they can’t speak English and having someone there who knows the odd Dutch word would be a great help.
So Orlando went along and he’d never met a couple so rude in his life. Arrogant. Haughty. Conceited. Completely up themselves. Totally superior. He hated them.
Bridie had a gas oven and when they found him he was beyond recovery.
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