The main meal had been eaten and the plates cleared away. Dinnertime had progressed slightly forward with no further altercations or desecration of the peace and quiet.
Desert was served. Presumably the chef’s masterpiece it was a fruit salad concoction of ingredients, possibly, pilfered from the main garden – paw paw, mangoes, bananas and oranges all chopped in to cubes. It was topped with fresh cream with chocolate flakes stuck into it.
The Man of the House poured himself another glass of wine.
“ One thing I’m going to miss about this place will be the wine”, he said, absentmindedly, topping up his glass,”…Chardonnay 1980 I’ll never be able to afford a bottle on my pension. Have you finished packing yet?”.
The Lady of the House lifted her head up from trying to figure out what a chocolate flake was doing in a fruit salad,”…we’ve got about one more trailer to go and we’re done.”
“ Good…and you packed all my books? I’ll have time to read them all now”.
“ Yes”, she replied. She was still staring at the monstrosity before her. Fruit salad with chocolate flakes? Not good for the waist line. She would have to fire the chef before she left. Fruit salad with chocolate flakes was simply not acceptable.
He took a long swig of his drink,” I suppose I’ll have to find a job now, something where I’ll be told what to do. What about you?”.
“ You’re always good at being somebody’s deputy”, she replied, still staring at her desert wondering whether to eat it or not,”…I’m thinking of becoming a comedienne..”
“ You?”, he replied and started to laugh.
She kissed her teeth,”…didn’t you see my last comic gig go viral online last year?”.
“ You mean your impromptu gig”, he reminded her,”…so what are you going to be called?”.
“ I’m going to call myself the Machine Gun Comic..”.
“ Machine Gun Comic?”, he asked,”…what kind of stage name is that?”.
“ Yeah..”, she replied triumphantly after making the wise decision of going for a glass of wine instead of the desert,”…Machine Gun Comic because whenever I open my mouth bullets fly out!”.
” Are you going to use your catchphrase – ‘there is God O’ – in your act?”.
” Of course! How else are people going to laugh at me?”
“ Humph”, he muttered to himself, mentally anticipating what trouble might lay ahead, ”why not become an airhostess? You’re very good at flying around, especially long distance”.
She rolled her eyes at him,”…that’ll mean I’ll have to serve people..Me? Big Madam?…Abeg O!”, she remembered something, ”can’t we keep some of this gold cutlery as souvenirs?”.
He eyeballed her, “No! We’re not keeping anything!”.
She wasn’t happy with that, “what about transport? Can’t we just keep one?”.
“No!”, he replied in a sheepish voice that was meant to be stern,”…from now on you fly on commercial airlines”.
“ That means I’ll have to fly with all the common people!”, she retorted, “..Business Class?”.
Sensing an impending confrontation he immediately backed down,”…I don’t see why not”.
“ To London and Germany?”.
“Twice a week I suppose?”, he replied sarcastically,”…of course Business Class, twice a week. That way you’ll get through my pension faster than I can. Haven’t you heard of Airmiles?”.