Betty’s kick

Betty kicked in the door. She was going to provide judgement and shove it up her arse good and proper. Her strength of opinion could be devastating. It was certainly no match for the hinges.

She had scrubbed enough floors in her lifetime and read enough books in recent years to knows without question when words didn’t string together with any sense, purpose or vague inclination.

“It’s a heap of shite” she said. The permed hair danced on her smoke furrow brow. She sat on the swivel chair, pulled over an ashtray and put her feet on the desk. She seemed to have forgotten her shoes but not her lighter.

Ita banged on the little hotel reception bell just to let Betty know she was being allowed to speak. They had been through too many rowdy book clubs together not to crave some decorum. Ita was always the “Boss” even when she had no control on proceedings.

“Get off the fence Betty! Tell me what you really think” groaned Ita.

“I will!! Seriously it is so bad you might have well just gone ahead and called it “Cockballs and Pissflaps” for all the fucking good in it”

“Tell me more”


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