"Trust me," said the Butcher

"Ears flat," said Dad, "then gently backwards."

"Ouch! I can't. OUCH!

"Poor darling," said Mum.

"Bash the rails apart with an 'ammer" said Fred.

"Get the Fire Brigade," said George.

"Sod off," said the boy.

"Leave it to me," said the butcher, raising his cleaver. "I'll sort it. Trust me."      

© Sheila Rogers
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