The Intruder
by Harry Downey




I think it was all Mavis’s fault. All she has to do is make sure that the outside door of the conservatory is kept locked. Simple enough you’d think, wouldn’t you? Obviously the door into the house should be secure when we’re not sitting reading or whatever in our ‘garden room’ as we like to call it, but when she uses the other door that takes her out onto the lawn, she just doesn’t seem to think what she’s doing. Anyone could get in through that door when it isn’t locked just by going up the side by the fence.

Now, I’m not a big bloke, not even average size I reckon. Just about 5’6” – that’s when I have my shoes on – and am well under 10 stone. And that’s wet through. Nor am I cut out to be a hero either. So when I saw the size of that intruder, I did the obvious thing. I shouted for help. Very loudly.

Like the U.S. 7th Cavalry in a fifties black and white western, it arrived just in the nick of time to save my bacon. A rapid thump with a rolled up newspaper and the intruder met his maker. Talk about relief.

Obviously it’s going to cost me but I don’t mind that. But I just don’t know what best to buy for my saviour, Debbie, my eight year old daughter. Any suggestions anyone?  



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