The Sandwich: #212

The Sandwich


"Good lord, Melanie, look at this poor chap lying in the drive!"

From the taste of the gravel in my mouth and the ringing in my ears, I quickly deduced that the owner of the posh voice and the expensive glossy shoes was talking about me. I strained upwards to look at his face. It was very blurry. I blinked a few times, but it didn't bring him into any sharper focus. I guess he was just made that way.

"I say old chap," said the blurry young man. "I'd think twice about dossing down there. A fellow who gets up to those kinds of larks very soon finds himself getting driven over if he's not careful. I remember once there was this blighter at the Drones - Pinkerton, I think his name was. Well one day, old Pinky bet us all that he couldn't - "

I didn't hear what it was that old Pinky bet he couldn't do because at that moment someone drove over my head. That kind of thing often proves a distraction when one is struggling to follow the ebb and flow of a conversation.

"Oops, there you go, old man," said the blurred gentleman. "What did I tell you?"

"I say," said the Melanie woman. "That was Daphne, Cuthbert, Maddy, Dunstable, Gwendoline Cranleigh-Bumphlap and Postern-Dirigible all coming back from the station in the two-seater. Honestly, Alby, you really need to get a bigger car. Let's go and say hello!"

"Be right with you, Melanie old sprout," said blurred Alby. "First I'm going to scrape this fellow up and take him in to see the governor. Chin-chin!"



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