Interplanetary Tales. by George H. Y. Watson

Author:George H. Y. Watson [George H. Y. Watson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781311472458
Publisher: George H. Y. Watson.
Published: 2020-08-14T16:00:00+00:00

SILVER LININGS.

The Pensioners.

The sun was shining and the sky was blue as Bert and Elsie settled down into the seats in their favourite seaside shelter on the promenade at Milton-On-Sea. It was dinner time and Bert had a large greasy plastic bag filled with Fish and Chips from Mr. Wong’s Chip Shop on the other side of the road.

They had been coming here, on the south coast of England for their summer holidays for thirty years and Elsie loved it. Loved the familiarity of the place and how she knew where everything was. She was afraid of flying and, anyway, had no desire to cross the English Channel where ‘Them scruffy foreigners lived.’

Bert, on the other hand, kept quiet so as not to upset Elsie. He hated Milton and was bored rigid every year. His only respite was the bar at the Esplanade Hotel where they also had the same room every year. Once in the bar, he would sit there and drink until eleven or twelve in the evening when he would inform everyone in earshot, he had reached the “full-of-beer mark.”

Privately he always thought, ‘Yes, Spain would be much better, all those nubile tanned girls…If Elsie goes before me I’ll never come back to this miserable dump again!’

As they tucked into their fish and chips, Bert noticed a large dark cloud on the horizon drifting towards them. Looking up at the ‘Milton-On-Sea’ flags that flew all along the seafront, he saw that the wind was blowing from the west. But the cloud was coming in from the south. ‘Funny’ was all he thought.

Elsie was oblivious, head down, concentrating on stuffing herself with the oily chips and greasy fish before they got cold. Bert had noticed that she always put a few pounds onto her already ample figure when they holidayed here and the weight never came off. His mind strayed to his future Spanish holiday indiscretions and he unconsciously uttered, “Perfecto senorita”.

With a start Bert snapped out of his reverie as a flock of seagulls passed low overhead. ‘Shit Hawks’ he preferred to call them as that was all they seemed to do. He’d been walking along the beach several years ago when several seagulls had passed overhead and splattered all over him. The other guests at the hotel had been in hysterics, laughing fit to burst. Especially that old git Thompson with his fancy-nancy young wife!

The dark cloud was almost at the beach now and Bert could see that it had a kind of green tinge to it. ‘Funny’ he thought again.

The seagulls entered the cloud and Bert waited for them to pass out of the other side. Beside him Elsie eyed his Fish and Chips and said, “You gonna eat them chips, or what?”

Suddenly, from the bottom of the cloud a rain of feathers and chewed up gore exited. The vile mixture splattered onto the beach and the few sunbathers that had been brave enough to strip off.

The resulting screams and shouts made Elsie halt her feeding frenzy and look over to the beach.

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