This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘The Last Post on WordPress’
Prompt CRANK
ROBIN HOOD
(A villanelle-style poem) by John Yeo
I was out strolling in the market square A cranky bandit could clearly be seen Soon a large crowd had gathered there.
People stopped still and stood to stare This was an event that couldn’t be a dream I was out strolling in the market square.
He was handing out cash with more to spare To the needy poor in a steady stream Soon a large crowd had gathered there.
People started jostling to get a share Of free money from the cranky villain
I was out strolling in the market square.
The cranky villain appeared from nowhere
With his men all matched in Lincoln green
Soon a large crowd had gathered there.
Robbing the rich to feed the poor, unaware Of his crimes he was rushed off the scene. I was out strolling in the market square Soon a large crowd had gathered there.
This is a response to a Flash Fiction prompt from ‘The Last Post on WordPress’ ~
Prompt ~ CRANK
CRANK-SHAFTED
by John Yeo
‘I tell you he’s a cranky old buzzard! Every time one of the local’s dogs pulls on the lead and steps onto his front lawn, he races out of the front door yelling his head off; cursing and waving his arms around. Why doesn’t he invest in a fence alongside the path? In my view, he ought to be locked up before he resorts to violence!’
Mrs. Manners was annoyed and sounding off at PC Bott.
‘Hmm!’ Said the Constable thoughtfully: ‘You say he charges out of his door shouting? Has he ever made any direct threats of violence, or actually attacked anyone?’
‘Not that I know of,’ replied Mrs. Manners. ‘I will certainly ask around; lots of the neighbours here are fed up with the old rascal.’
‘Well, Mrs. Manners, I will have a word with him about this threatening behaviour and see what he has to say, but that is all I can do.’
‘I hope you won’t mention my name Constable, I don’t want any trouble, he’s probably mad at me since my husband went for him with a car crank handle. Purely in self-defence, you understand.’
‘Your husband did what? Exactly what do you mean by self-defence?’ asked the police officer, suddenly stern in his manner.
Mrs. Manners hesitated for a moment before she said with tears in her eyes. ‘Well, it happened this morning: Our little doggie Poochie, pulled on the lead as we passed the property, and did his business on the old man’s lawn. I always pick the droppings up with a plastic bag. There was the usual terrible reaction as the old man came charging at me shouting and swearing. My husband had been trying to start the car with a crank handle and as the madman came rushing towards him he hit him with the crank handle.’
‘Don’t worry Mrs. Manners, I’ll deal with this: Is your
husband home? I will need him to be here.’
‘Yes Constable: He’s indoors, he will be a great help with your enquiries.’
The policeman took a deep breath and picked his radio up!
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