Small talk

Once more flying potato fragments splattered the Sunday papers prompting tears from baby.

The salesman checked his suit for food shrapnel.

“Funny to think that Tartar forces besieging the Black Sea port of Caffa flung infected war-dead over the stronghold walls using a weapon no more complex than your daughter´s spoon.” said the salesman. “Those merchants who escaped the results of this little tantrum unwittingly passed on the plague which killed millions.”

“For the third time,” said the mother. “Dry-cleaning bill – no!”


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s