The Date. By CpSingleton © 2016
Agatha Puddingbowl was annoyed. Really annoyed.
It happened every once in a while and it was almost painful.
So, to combat the shivering rage she felt inside her stomach and mind she’d said yes to a date with Toby Gammonjug.
Agatha had been gleefully shunning his advances for nearly a full year, but it was time to end the games.
Toby was small, wiry, intense and most definitely not her type, but he would be just the perfect man to alleviate the griping angst that was burning up inside of her.
The date would put her back on track.
She spent no more than eight minutes getting ready. A dab of lipstick and her hair in a tight, austere bun, and then she was off.
They had planned to meet outside the Picture House at seven and, as she slowly slid her head around the corner of the old building, she saw him.
She was amused to see him all dressed up in shirt and tie, carrying a ridiculously large bouquet of flowers.
She giggled inside as she watched him pace nervously.
The time on her the telephone she fished out of her jacket pocket read 1908.
She’d been correct when she had assumed that agreeing to him would put her in brighter spirits. It had. It really had.
She watched for a few minutes more as he checked and rechecked his watch, while pacing with ever increasing anxiety.
Hardly suppressing a scornful laugh, a joyfully satisfied Agatha Puddingbowl turned and skipped back home to a peaceful night’s sleep.