Postcards from Planet Mad, part 2

So we'd split up, and I was getting on with my life. She'd immediately got pregnant by the bloke I caught her cheating on me with, and moved in with the poor sod.

Then, completely out of the blue, late one night I get a phone call from her. She's distraught, weeping and wailing, and talking about suicide. I decide I have to get over there; I still care about her, even if I wouldn't touch her with yours, now.

So I shoot across town on my motorcycle, as fast as I can, run up the steps, and ring the bell.

Nothing. Nada. Niente. Silence.

I bang on the door, call through the letter box; still nothing. I'm getting really worried now, imagining her lying in a pool of blood on the floor, or dangling from the light fitting. I begin eying the window, and wondering if I can make it from the steps onto the ledge without dropping three metres into the basement, or impaling myself on the iron railings.

Then I catch a movement in the basement window. It's her! I attract her attention, and she comes to the front door.

"Hello," She says, looking puzzled, "What are you doing here?"

Mad bitch had completely forgotten about the suicidal phone call, all of twenty minutes ago.

</repost>
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Tue 19 Nov 2013, 11:45, 2 replies)

...
Why did you start your post with 'So'......??
(Colonel Blink is now officially a pretentious prick, Tue 19 Nov 2013, 21:18, closed)

Dunno. Postmodern irony?

(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Wed 20 Nov 2013, 11:13, closed)