SHENANIGANS IN THE SUN

Letty Coltman

My neighbour fell into his fishpond again.
            It was early afternoon, and I was lounging in the rare bit of sun our summer gets, when I heard an almighty splash followed by a familiar shrieking voice.
            ‘Vincent! You clumsy buffoon!’
I peeked over the low wooden fence to see Beatrice’s thin frame standing over their fishpond. She was wearing her well-loved red apron patterned with macarons, but her expression was anything but sweet.
            Vincent was sat in the pond looking rather shell shocked; the fat bastard had almost emptied out the algae covered water.
            One poor koi was left flopping about on their overgrown lawn, and once Vincent had finally hauled himself out of the shallow ditch, it had stopped flopping entirely.
            ‘You’ve gone and killed one of the bloody things!’ Beatrice exclaimed, throwing her arms above her head before walking off huffing and puffing, like she was about to blow down some houses.
            Vincent scooped up the dead fish and let it dangle from his hand before turning towards me with a familiar cheeky grin.
           ‘Fancy coming round for a barbecue tomorrow?’