423. Dorrie mixes metaphors
© Bruce Goodman 7 December 2014
Dorrie was left with the task of clearing out her late grandmother’s house. She would set aside different items to go to this or that grandchild. The old green brooch for example, although not of great value, would go to her cousin, Yvonne.
Of course, her siblings and cousins, all grandchildren of the same late grandmother, were meant to be there to help. But Dorrie was left to do it alone. And then…
Ian turned up. “Grandma had some books on the Titanic. I’ve just come to get them.”
“See how the vultures are coming out of the woodwork,” said Dorrie.
Selina turned up. “Grandma had a few rings and stuff. I’ve just come to get them.”
“It didn’t take long for the sharks to start feathering their own nests,” said Dorrie.
Craig turned up. “Grandma had an old footstool. I’ve just come to get it.”
“I see the fat cow is a bit of a couch potato,” said Dorrie.
Esme turned up. “Grandma had some old bone china cups. I’ve just come to get them.”
“Living off the smell of an oily rag seems a bit fishy,” said Dorrie.
Nathan turned up. “Grandma had a brass firewood box. I’ve just come to get it.”
“No good pouring cold water over someone pussy-footing around like a headless chicken,” said Dorrie.
Olivia turned up. “Grandma had an old bed quilt. I’ve just come to get it.”
“The wolf in sheep’s clothing is shedding crocodile tears,” said Dorrie.
“I think I’ll move into the house myself,” said Dorrie. “After all, one leg over the fence is better than a poke in the eye. They’re a pack of sheep flogging a dead horse, so I might as well open a can of worms and put my irons in the fire.”
And she did. There were a few murmurings from the side-line, but nothing to write home about.
“You already took what you wanted,” said Dorrie. “For me, this icing on the cake is just the cat’s pyjamas.”