Check this out… my darling whipped it up in a couple of nights for a Shakespeare competition (she is so excited as it means she gets 4 magazines a year)… then she had to spend a couple of nights cutting down on words! She can write!!

                               MC’BETH’S FISH AND CHIPS.  

Terry Mc’Beth sighed as yet another customer lined up on the already daunting queue before him. ‘Ding’ there was the bell he had grown to hate in the eight months that he had been working at Duncan’s fish and chips. He was expecting the normal people; builders, workers, children on errands who didn’t speak at all, or young women who wouldn’t stop talking until he’d bustled them out the door with steaming parcels. But when the stiff door finally opened, three elderly women stepped inside. They were dressed almost identically in scraggly coats that nearly touched the floor as they stiffly shuffled into the room. Mc’Beth nudged Bob Banquo, his partner in all things fish and chips. “Who are these so withered and wild in their attire,“ he asked in a hushed whisper. “I don’t know, they haven’t been here before” answered Banquo, who had been working in Duncan’s fish and chips for years, and had the uncanny ability to remember every customer who had ever entered the shop on his watch. The three women walked to the front of the line (as you do), stared into Mc’Beth’s eyes and slowly began to speak “all hail, Macbeth! Hail to thee senior fryer, began the first woman “all hail Macbeth! Hail to thee, senior batterer,” continued the second “all hail, Macbeth, thou shalt be king hereafter! ” added the third woman. “There are no kings around here ma’am, there’s this thing called democracy, do you mean manager? “said Mc’Beth, a hint of surprise to his voice, then as an afterthought, “though I am senior fryer, I am not senior batterer, let alone manager”. At this point Banquo burst in to the conversation “if you can look into the seeds of time speak then to me” he said in a no longer hushed tone. “hail” the women howled one by one, “lesser than Mc’Beth and greater,” said the first woman. “Not so happy, yet much happier,” added the second woman. “Thou shalt get kings, err I mean man-er-gers, though thou be none: so all hail, Mc’Beth and Banquo” said the third woman. And with that the women left, slamming the door behind them. Mc’Beth did rather fancy himself as manager but he would never admit It. Banquo shook his shoulder rousing him from his daydreams. “Your children shall be managers”  Mc’Bethgiggled, “you shall be a manager” Banquo giggled back “senior batterer too: went it not so?” Mc’Beth added. “or have we eaten on the insane root That takes the reason prisoner?” asked Banquo. “You mean Beer?” “Stands not within the prospect of belief ” said Mc’Beth “they’re just crazy old ladies they don’t know anything.” Just then the clear ringing of the shop phone cut through the hubbub of impatient customers. Mc’Beth dashed to the phone and picked up the receiver, “I call thee senior batterer in which addition, hail, most worthy batterer!” squawked the voice of Duncan through the phone “What, can the devil speak true” gasped Mc’Beth, those weird sisters were right!…         Could I be manager?                  

 TO  BE  CONTINUED …