by Oonah V
Sal and I have
coffee once a week at hers. I like her. Shes
eccentric - and young - unlike my other friends.
A few weeks ago we were having coffee in the
garden when she suddenly got up, in the middle of
what I was saying, but Ive learned not to
take offense, and came back with a bottle of
sherry and two tall glasses.
a bit early for me dear, I said.
blankly at me and then caught on. Oh,
its not for us. Its for the wasps
a trap, she explained and pouring a
small amount of sherry into each glass, she
placed them in corners of the garden well away
from the house. They go in for the sherry
and get sticky and cant climb out,
she told me. It works for garden snails too.
Away she went
and fetched a photograph - a wagon train of
snails crossing the lawn towards a buried beer
glass and disappearing over the edge to their
doom. Its one thing to set a trap but to
photograph actual snailicide
I was quite
fortnight later, I opened her fridge to get milk
for the coffee. Sal, what is that smell?
It smelt like sweaty socks and I was half
expecting to find a pair of dead feet inside.
be the gorgonzola, she said.
not going to eat that are you? I asked.
I know some people love powerful cheeses
but how would you get that from under your nose,
into your mouth?
its for the mice, she said. I
think we may have mice and I dont want to
I was thankful
for that. At least I wouldnt have to watch
the snuff movie.
Ive bought humane traps and Im going
to put some cheese in each one, she said,
and then I can drive somewhere and let them
I thought it a
bit extravagant. My mice had to make do with
plain biscuit and a quick dispatch.
yesterday she had a lunch date with a young man
and was getting ready for it after wed
finished our coffee. She particularly wanted me
to see her new shoes. They were baby pink patent
leather with a cerise bow on the front and cerise
four inch stiletto heels accentuated by a
vertical gold strip.
nice, I said. I wondered whether they were
a man trap or a death trap.