Despatches From A Blanket-Fort

*Tony peeks out of blanket-fort*. 'Nope.'


*Tuesday beckons, sets up the Nazi Scales.* 'Come on, Disappearing Man, you used to write this nonsense every day. Step on, let's tell the people what they want to know.'

*Tony blinks.*. 'Nope. Can't make me. So yah-boo sucks to you, Tuesday!'

'At least let people know you won't be here tomorrow.'

*Tony sighs.* 'Fiiiiiiine. *Stomps out from blanket-fort, gets tangled up, falls to the floor with a distinctly heavy thump, as of a beef carcass on an abatoir slab.*

'Ouch. I'm gonna blame you for that, Tuesday.'

'Ach, you blame me for everything, ya wuss. I've lost count of the things that have been my fault.'

'Smartass.'

'Better than a dumbass, as you always say.'

'Y'know sometimes, you're too clever by half.'

Better than being too stupid by half, as you-'

'-always say, yes, I know. God, you make me sound like an insufferable git...'

'Only because-'

'I know! I know!'

'Annnnnyway...'

'Right. Yes. can't be doing with the whole ghastly business tomorrow - haven't walked, haven't done a damn thing, want to be able to sleep tonight, rather than be tormented by the thought of the Nazi Scales. So hello, Monday.'

*Monday rubs sleep out of its eyes.* 'What?'

'You're up.'

'What? I don't do this any more. This is Tuesday's deal. Get him to do something. My deal is seeing how much I can get away with.'

'Not that much. You're up. You're blog day this week.'

'I'll complain to my union.'

'You don't have a union, you lived through the eighties, remember?'

'I'll go on strike, see how you like that. There'll be placards. They will be cutting and witty.'

'On a Monday? Good luck with that. Besides, I would freakin' love that. You go on strike, I'm going back to my blanket-fort, everybody's happy.'

*d wanders in. *

'I'm not doing the Nazi Scales thing in the morning, honey.'

*Chews bacon*. 'How come?'

'Just...blech.'

'Is this not you just running away from stuff?'

'Yeah. Good, innit?'

'Hmm. Don't really want you to stop trying to be better.'

'I know. I'm not. I just...'

'Maybe you should ask the people of the Facebook what to do.'

'Hmm. Every risk of something Sensible happening then though.'

*Chews more bacon in a non-judgmental manner. 'OK.'

'OK?'

'Sure. OK.'

*Tony narrows eyes, goes immediately for a post-dinner weigh. It's hideous.*

'OK, then...blanket-fort...'

*Monday coughs*. 'So...anyway...he's buggered off for a couple of days. Apparently. Gawd knows what he's playing at. Being an arse, prob'ly. Ahem...sorry. *Walks away from microphone, leaving awkward silence behind.*