Evil Ball Plans


“Yep! You know, the British sport that’s kind of like – “

“We know what it is!” we shouted at him, and turned back to breakfast.

“You always take it out on me – I haven’t done anything to you,” Cricket murmured, and continued searching for his precious birdie.

“Quite the contrary,” Lin grumbled, taking a fork out of her food. “You’ve been dragging us hither tither for more than a day.”

“It’s all in good sport,” Cricket said, smiling brightly.

We both turned to glare at him – under the onslaught of our glowers, he slunk away back to his search.

Breakfast was eaten slowly, lazily – almost languidly.

The only sound audible was the silverware.

That, of course, gave me time to think.

What’s he going to do with the ball? Why are we playing badminton – or something faintly related to it?

I decided to drop the questions for now.

“Now, ladies, would anyone like to guess what thoughts I’m having?”

Uh oh. He found it.

“I think your train of thought is a runaway,” I stated.

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