“Where’s the bathroom, then?”
Joseph sighed. He’d realised when he saw Phoebe tottering down the jetty, dragging a Louis Vuitton behind her, that quite unjustifiable expectations had been invested in his suggestion “let’s weekend on my boat”.
“This is a day-boat, Phoebe, it’s a ‘bucket-and-chuckit’ job.”
“Ergh!” Phoebe shuddered. “So where will we sleep?”
“Here,” he said, patting the splinter-ridden deck, “beneath the stars.”
Now Phoebe sighed.
“I’ll put my case here then, shall I?”
“My bait-box goes there, Pheebs.”
“Bait-box… that’s a music-system, right?”
Joseph climbed out of the boat.
“I’ll book us a room somewhere, shall I?”
(You’ll never know how hard it was for the OCD side of me not to straighten up the horizon on this photo-prompt.) 🙂
An apology for fellow participants in the Friday Fictioneers community. If your website insists that I complete a form to comment on your story, you might think I don’t return your visit and/or read your story. I do. But for people with time and internet constraints, (that’s generally me), this procedure seems an irrelevant time-consuming exercise. My name and website url are available via the linky and/or gravatar, and due to an unmanageable heap of spam/spoof/pornographic junk filling up my inbox right now, I’m reluctant to give my email address where it’s not needed. I hope you’ll understand.
Thanks once again, Rochelle. I truly appreciate the time you put into this every week.