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Fast Fiction: What Shall We Do About Algy?

Richard Mallinson tells a tale of money, sex and one sherry too many.

For more of Richardís fast fiction please click on http://www.openwriting.com/archives/fast_fiction/

'No need to splash everybody,' observed Algy Boreman, a middle-aged politician, to his young wife as he walked along the poolside at their country house.

'Oh, I wasn't splashing everybody,' said naked Hetta. 'I was splashing you.'

'Well, please don't,' growled Algy, who was on his third whisky and soda. He eased himself into one of the poolside chairs and fumblingly lit a cigarette.

'Why don't you come in and join me?' called Hetta, floating on her back.

'Later, dear, if I'm still capable, which I very much doubt.'

By the time Algy had finished his fifth whisky he was asleep - and Hetta was in the house, being seriously pleasured by Tim Freeman, a visiting African diplomat.

Afterwards, Tim asked, 'What shall we do about Algy?'

*

'I sometimes think,' said Algy, before dinner that evening, 'that it would be rather nice for Hetta and I to have a meal by ourselves for a change - just the two of us.'

'Oh, I am so sorry to be intruding,' murmured Tim, glancing at Hetta.

'Now don't take it personally, young man,' said Algy.
'Here, try this sherry.'

'Wait, dear,' said Hetta, hastily. 'The sherry is for you. Timmy prefers beer.'

'Oh, so it's Timmy now, is it?'

'Yes, and you must call me Timmy, too, Mr Boreman,' said Tim.

'Aha, Timmy-too from Timbuctoo, ho, ho, eh?'

'Now, now, Algee,' said Hetta, 'please do not be rude to our guest.'

At which Tim said, 'I do love the way you say Algee. It sounds so quaint.'

Hetta laughed. 'Well, the old boy is rather quaint, don't you think?' she said.

'Aagh,' groaned Algy, 'what the devil've you put in this sherry, uh ... uh?'

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