Friday, 29 July 2016

Never give a Kitten to a Sociopath.

“Taking over the animal sanctuary was a mistake. We should have sold it to the bloke with the massive car” Chloe trudged through the mud, a bale of straw over one shoulder. Her hair wasn't going to thank her for the abuse.

“What bloke?” Shellie, her best friend since the started infants school together ten years ago, hurried to catch up, the bucket of water she held in both hands becoming less full by the second. “What did he want it for?”

“How should I know? A Supermarket, probably. Or another housing estate. There's a moratorium on greenbelt use in Wiltshire. They all want brownfield sites to build on.” She kicked a sod of mud with the side of her Wellington boot. “And this is about as brownfield as you get. Shit-coloured, in fact.”

“Who was this bloke, then? Was he rich?” Shellie put the bucket down to open the latch to the stables. In the kennel block on the other side of the courtyard, the dogs were already barking, expecting their dinner.

“Must have been.” Chloe put the bale down. “His driver gave him a piggy back so he didn't get his feet muddy.”

“But your dad wouldn't sell?”

“No. 'Profit mongering begger' Dad called him.”

Good to know your dad has ethics, though.”

Ethics? He wanted twice what the bloke was offering.”

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