A Droubble of Mischief

Trish was sick of Philip and his boasting.   ‘Boys are better than girls’ was his most recent taunt.  Trish had taken the bait on more than one occasion and been reprimanded. She had to wreak revenge in a way only she knew about.  This would give her the final satisfaction to be able to ignore his future gibes.

The plan began to form in Trish’s head early in the afternoon.  She smiled to herself as she enacted the scene in her head.  She went upstairs and hid a white towel under her pillow.

Trish lay in bed fighting the urge to sleep.  She waited until all was quiet. She got the towel and pulled it close to her as she crept onto the landing.

She entered Phillip’s bedroom, knelt beside his bed and put the towel over her head.  ‘Phiiiilllipp’, she whispered.  He did not stir. ‘Phiiillliiip’, she whispered again.  Still nothing.  She tried one last time, raising her voice slightly ‘Phiiillliiip’  This time he woke up, saw the shadowy white figure next to his head and screamed.

Philip got into serious trouble for waking the baby, and had to sleep with the light on for quite some time after.

Pat Woodcock

20.03.2011