“He gotta decide that you didn’t. Their superpower. Suddenly, you are guided concerning what you should like. Oh, it shouldn’t have been…” Surpa bit her tongue.
She could be on thin ice or the fate awaited her? She must toe the line. She snuck a few oranges from their orchard and it landed her in a pretty pickle but she assumed she was more sinned against than sinning.
She bore a close resemblance to her Granny bar many of her strands were quite out of place and stuck out like a sore thumb. The swashbuckling buccaneer didn’t mind that.
Surpa looked over her shoulder dreading she would do or say something completely out of context. She wasn’t in a position to play fast and loose. But that’s how stories find you..or should you stop inventing anything new for a flagon of ale or prop up the bar to drown your sorrow? She can’t always remain tongue-tied. It might stretch their credulity but by any stretch of imagination, they did not put her up to pen their stories or shoved their words in her brain.
She slept fitfully and in the mellow golden light of dawn she first thing set off to apologise him for all those digested oranges so that she could start afresh.
“Are they your favourite?” he inquired?
Such callowness! words failed him…
“What else? Of course, oranges that you picked up from my orchard.”
“I beg your pardon, Sir, but I really want to put something into perspective. I want oranges like a hole in my head. I cannot be held accountable for what you have heard. I apologized for the lemons.”
We all have suffered sling and arrows but what a silly thing to say, she saved her bacon, just the same!
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