Logs for Sale

by duncanr

oldman10 weeks today I officially retire from work

going to take a bit of getting used to having to live on a much reduced income but I’m not too worried – I have an idea how to earn some money to supplement my pension . . .



8 Comments to “Logs for Sale”

  1. You could set up a defecaterers.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Beware, the market is flooded.


  3. The rain dashed against the window panes of the cottage as if to force entry, the winter winds increased their howling. Julian gently placed his arm around Fiona, affectionately pulling her toward him. They had long since abandoned the comfort of the sofa and had seated themselves on the carpeted floor in front of the blazing hearth.

    Julian had dimmed the lighting and the sound system was softly playing romantic classics. Fiona coyly raised her eyes to her beau and suggested that he open another bottle of red. His eyes held hers as he rose to fetch another bottle. “I’ll be gone just a teensie-weensie little minute” he uttered, huskily, “while I’m gone, perhaps you could chuck another turd on the fire.”


  4. Wine bottle in hand, Julian was feeling about in the romantic blackout trying to find a bottle opener, when suddenly the universe paused in its tracks. In that brief instant of timelessness his awareness seemed to become fused with the very stuff of everything. His lips, although unbidden, formed the thought which coursed through his mind: “This is what it was like before the Big Bang…” He heard a dull ‘whoomp’ and his entire world turned to light, as an erupting incandescence from the hearth filled the entire room with brilliance, reflected and re-reflected from every nook and cranny, until all form was lost, and he was floating in a pool of pure energy.
    “Duncan’s logs,” he thought inanely…

    Liked by 1 person

    • Meanwhile, Mr Robertson was poised over the pan, shovelling bowl after bowl of Kellog’s cornflakes into his ‘inlet orifice’, keen to fill his latest ordure order.

      Liked by 1 person

      • “I’ll no repeat again the same mistake twice” he mused, recalling how he’d dozed off on the bog and spilled a whole bottle of MacRobertson’s MacMoonshine genuine olde Scocth Whiskey on his sales stock…


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