‘Do you know, Ognar,’ Myrtle gazed dreamily out of the living room window, ‘I was just about to say we should take ourselves off on holiday again… and then I stopped myself.’
‘Why’s that then, my delicious pomegranate?’ Ognar put down his newspaper.
‘I’ve just remembered our Marjory’s last trip. She’d gone to somewhere Frenchy, I think, although it could have been Spain… maybe Italy… no, it was Peru… no, it was France, I’ve remembered that porcupine she brought us back.’
‘That was from Greece, my sweet.’ Ognar smiled.
‘Ah yes, anyway, wherever she went,’ Myrtle chuckled, ‘she told me she ended up on this bendy bus. I mean to say, a ‘bendy’ bus… I thought she’d had too much ouzo, but let her carry on. She was meant to go to some monastery somewhere, but ended up in a gothic castle where the tour operator had organised a magic show. I think she ticked the wrong box on her form.’
‘Your Marjory does things like that.’ Ognar now chuckled.
‘Well, she ended up being the one to be sawn in half. She showed me the photo of her in the box, with her head sticking out of one end and her feet sticking out of the other, only her feet were next to her head. They were definitely her feet, she had them funny red shoes on.’
Myrtle paused, then continued, ‘Oh, Ognar, I don’t want sawing in half.’
Ognar smiled. ‘Then we’ll stay home for now, my peachdrop!’
Posted for The Unicorn Challenge. A magical challenge hosted by Jenne Gray and C E Ayr, where they provide a photo, and we, in return, post something, anything, up to 250 words.
The Mansionic Perspective 
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