Full English BreakfastMature


Cindy came down the stairs, angry and crying. Rose went up and hugged her. They stayed there, Rose patting Cindy lightly on the back and talking quietly to her, just long enough for me to start feeling just a little awkward. Excusing myself from the rest of the group, I limped off to see if there was any kind of washing machine in the basement, my clothes were caked in blood and covered in chemical stains - not the most inconspicuous way to dress.

I found one, along with a drier, in one of the far corners, and returned to the group, most of whom had fallen asleep. I picked up whatever clothing they had discarded and shoved it into the drum, along with my labcoat, polo shirt and, after some painful manoeuvring of my foot, socks, and turned the thing on, damning the consequences of mixing all those different colours in one wash. Wrapping myself in a towel that was lying on top of the machine, I waited for the thing to finish, when it eventually did, I chucked all of the miraculously undamaged clothing into the drier and finally feel asleep.

I woke to the smell of frying bacon, and jumped up, remembering suddenly where I was, and what had happened the day before. The smell was coming from upstairs, but I didn't want to risk going up, so, pulling on my now dry, and relatively clean, clothes, I limped over to the pile of stuff the Rose and Cindy had brought down the night before. To others it might not have seemed much: a box of tomatoes, a couple of packets of bacon, a few sausages, couple of tins of beans, a few mushrooms, a case of eggs, some vegetables. An odd mix of things, probably just the first things that they had found in the fridge, shoved in a box with a small gas cooker and a couple of pans.
To me, it meant only one thing. When the others all woke up a few minutes later, with variations on gasps of surprise or horror as they remembered the events of the previous day, I was already cooking. Robert woke with a particularly nasty start, sweating heavily, then, after a few deep breaths, asked
"What are you cooking?"
"Full English Breakfast," I grinned, "You can thank me later."

The End

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