Monday, 22 April 2019

Mrs Tins



Mrs Tins ©
By
Michael Casey

Mrs Tins was called Mrs Tins for a reason, she was forever carrying two heavy shopping bags up the High St. She loved her tinned food, well it was far cheaper than fresh, and her Pension did not stretch very far. Her cat Thomas ate fresh food, as they lived near the Cemetery Thomas took himself off to see what he could find amongst the tomb stones. Otherwise Mrs Tins and Thomas lived a quiet life.

Mrs Tins used to work in the canning factory near Canning-Hanson Park just off the far end of the High St. It was so noisy there but they all did manage very well, because everbody but everybody could lip read. Thomas could not lip read, he was but a kitten she rescued him from a plastic bag thrown into the canal behind. That was cat contraception, a plastic bag throw into the canal. Luckily for Thomas Mrs Tins scooped him out with the end of her umbrella.

Thomas was called Thomas because his whiskers made him look like Mr Thomas the foreman of the canning factory well to Mrs Tins, and all the girls laughed so much that the kitten had to be called Thomas. Of course for years there were jokes about how is Thomas today, I don’t mean you I’m talking about the cat. Then the canning factory closed, and all the laughter ended, but at least Thomas had a good home, Thomas the cat, I don’t know about Thomas the foreman. Though I heard that Thomas the foreman joined a Tribute Band as the one in Village People with the biggest moustache. They called the band The Kats Whiskers, from cans to Can Cans.

So life moves on. Mrs Tins had an old fridge, a very old Russian one she had bought in Brights Furniture store, it was Russian and lasted forever like all Russian stuff, it must be 30 years old now. But as she lived on tinned food she never bother to replace it, she just kept her Lucozade and milk in it, and a few other things, like half eaten tinned food.

So as usual she was carrying her two heavy shopping bags home, she had 2 red leather bags brimming over. Nobody ever offered to help her carry them, not because the shopkeepers or the locals were nasty. They had offered in the past, it was just that all her tinned stuff weighted a ton, Mrs Tins was very very strong, one young lad offered to help once and nearly did himself a mischief down below with all the huffing and puffing and straining. So everybody just smiled and waved and let her get on with it. Somebody did suggest a trolley on wheels, but Mrs Tins laughed, do you think I’m an old lady do you?

It was a sunny April day, just like today, everybody was happy, Trump had resigned, so everybody was happy. Mrs Tins was gracefully walking up the High St. with tins clanking together in her bags. In the distance by the Cemetery she could see something strange, she was too far away to hear but she stopped and put on her glasses, now she could lip read. Give me your watch or I’ll hit you, and I’ll hit your girlfriend first. Mrs Tins was outraged. This was a nice area, her cat loved it and so did she. Attacking somebody, robbing somebody by Cemetery was not a very nice thing to do.

Mrs Tins approached silently, like a stealth whatever, well apart from the clanking of the tins. Then she stopped and took aim, fire one, fire two, fire three, fire four. Spam, condensed milk, fruit cocktail, beans, more beans, beans again, she did love her beans. The robber was battered, the condensed milk opened and spilt all over his coat. The would be robber was about to run away empty handed then he realised it was a little old lady firing tins at him. He was a Man, how dare a little old lady attack him.

He charged, he would have really hurt her if he had got close enough. Only the street had heard the screams and had come to her aid. Th Mohan brothers cricket team had just returned from practice. So potatoes and bananas, yams and onions, and everything on the display outside was hurled at the wood be attacker. They were the best team in the Black Country Cricket League, so do you think any vegetable missed it’s target? The Singh Sisters netball team had finished it’s practice too, so balls were hurled at the would be attacker, a Singh Sister will design and make you the best wedding dress ever. They also take no prisoners where netball is concerned.

Are you ok, Mrs Tins they all asked, as Sam Singh the local weighlifting champion sat on the would be attacked. I’m fine this person, she was going to swear but she stopped herself, he was going to rob that nice couple outside the Cemetery. Winston and Gloria had walked down the road by now to thank everybody. They had being laying some flowers on the grave of Winston’s grandmother when the would be attacker had struck.

Sgt Mulholland arrived, hello Winston, he kissed Gloria on the cheek, everybody wondered how he knew them. I introduced them, they are to be wed in a few months time. Winston does forensics and Gloria does probation. This little B B B, Sgt Mulholland stopped himself, I’ll take away. Winston and Gloria thanked everybody. Can I at least carry your bags home? Everybody laughed, but Winston was as good as his word. The Singh Sisters did say they could give discount on a wedding dress should Gloria need one.

When Winston and Gloria got to Mrs Tins they went inside for a cuppa, while they had their tea they looked around. Then Gloria screamed and dropped her cup. Did Thomas bring a rat inside the house? Sorry, that photo, that’s my nan, you have a photo of my nan in your house. Oh that’s Bernice, we used to work together at the canning factory. And so they did. They were best friends for years, but finally Bernice’s son had made it big and asked her to retire and come live with him. I lost track of her.

Gloria considered it to be a miracle, her nan’s best friend saving her and her beau from a battering. Obviously she got a wedding invite, and the Singh Sisters made the wedding dress at the last minute as the original one went bankrupt and did a moonlight flit. Mrs Tins never had to carry tins any more. Bernice’s son has a new fridge delivered, and Occado came every other week to fill it with fresh food. You see his refrigeration business worked for Occado. As for Thomas the cat, he did whatever he wanted because he was a cat, and cats please themselves. And whatever happened to the would be robber. 

Well when he came out of jail he got a placement as a trainee chef, you see having so many ingredients thrown at him it kind of affected his brain, but in a good way. I believe he eventually became a celebrity chef, throw anything at him, anything at all and in 45 minutes you’ll have a fantastic meal on your plate.  







No comments:

Post a Comment

Note: only a member of this blog may post a comment.

brown nosing never required

Humour Writing by the fat silver haired writer in shades from Birmingham England read in 167 countries so far https://www.amazon.co.uk/Micha...