PDA

View Full Version : Henry Foot


barrywood
01-27-2006, 07:01 PM
My friend Henry knocked at my door today just as I was making tea. I told him I couldn't talk long as I had to get to the bank. His face was red from the cold and he took out a small bottle from his rubber boot (they were really not warm enough in this cold Nova Scotia weather today). He brought it to his lips and tilted his head back. He burped mildly, as only a gentleman could do, and said he had something he had to tell me.

What? I asked, sitting the tea cup on the kitchen counter. You see, I was also sweeping the kitchen floor between sips.

If you knew Henry you would find this shocking as Henry doesn't have a lot of friends and usually when he comes to my place he's pretty quiet and it's me that does most of the talking. So I sat the broom down.

"What is it, Henry?"

--
This is an imaginary story, and I just felt like writing it. Anyone want to hear more about my friend Henry? It has not been proof read for grammar or content.

yellowish haze
01-28-2006, 03:00 AM
Barry,

Carry on, please! Sounds interesting.

barrywood
01-28-2006, 12:12 PM
Henry took a seat on a bar stool (not really for drinking) but a tavern once gave the bar to me and visitors like it as they can sit on it and swing their legs. But not Henry. Henry is too tall and his legs reach to the floor.

How did I meet Henry? you ask. Well, I was at a church one day--not praying--just looking at a stack of books being offered for sale on a warm summer afternoon a few years ago when a man came in with a ladder and walked through the church hall. I wasn't watching where I was looking and the ladder almost hit me. Henry stopped and apologized. He was at the church to fix a problem in the roof. His father turned out to live not too far from my house and the second time I met Henry he was pulling out the driveway of his father's house. We talked again that second time and just became good friends.

Now back to the task at hand. Henry said, "I've met a girl." That's good, I said, with a grin. "So what's the problem?"

He reached into his plaid work jacket and took out a white cloth--I think it was a hankerchief. It was covered in what looked like blood. I blinked, stepping back, nearly falling over the broom handle. And then he took out a knife and opened it. It too was stained with blood.

unknown
01-28-2006, 09:19 PM
HAH!