Pandora’s Box by Selwyn Morgan
‘Pandora! Have you been in that box again?’
‘Why is it always me and not Kylie.’
‘Because Kylie’s got her meeting with her ASBO councillor today, so she’s hopped it. That leaves you.’
‘So, what’s happened now?’
‘Mrs Jenkins has got a rain of frogs, just after we’d cleared up from the locusts and got better from that bout of smallpox. She says they’re clogging up Fred’s lawn mower and thinks it’s too much of a coincidence for it not to be you, in that bloody box again.’
‘Oh, it would be Mrs Jenkins; complain, complain, complain. We should report her to the council for being a nasty neighbour. Anyway, Auntie Edith was rummaging around in the coal shed. “I’ve lost an earring, love,” she said, “Have you found it?… Lost it borrowing some coal” Bet it was her… Why do we keep it in the coal shed, anyway?’
‘Because it’s coal.’
‘The box I mean.’
‘It’s too dangerous to keep in the house; everyone would look in it.’
‘Everyone does look in it, but I get the blame. Famines in Ethiopia, Continental Drift, Tony Blackburn on the telly, that’s supposed to be down to me and the box. I’ve had another hundred “unfriends” on Facebook, and that’s only this morning. It’s ruining my social life. Why do we have to have it anyway? Can’t “old man Harris” at number 29, have it? No one would go round there, not the way he smells… and his dog… bloody great big thing… have your leg off it would.’
‘No, it’s part of the rental conditions. We have to look after the garden, the paths and the fixtures and fittings… which includes “the box”. If you’d just leave it alone there’d be no problems in the world, and Fred would be able to mow his lawn.’
‘But it’s just a box, with a lid. You look in it and it’s empty… after stuff’s jumped out. I told everyone it was empty, but no one believes me, so they look in it too, to check. Then other stuff jumps out. Why don’t you put a lock on it?’
‘I’m not doing that! That’s the council’s job. I’ve told them again today, but they said, “Even with Global Warming, the chance of a rain of frogs is still no greater than a one-in-a-hundred-year event,” so their Maintenance Department’s got better things to do. They will look at it sometime next century; although they admit, smallpox, locusts and a rain of frogs
is a bit unusual. They said they’d call an emergency meeting if the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse turn up.
‘That would be nice… Men on horseback… yummy… Dad?’
‘Yes, my petal?’
‘Do you remember when you found me looking in the box? Tommy from next door had caught me bending over it too, and said I was very naughty.’
‘Yes love, I remember… I thanked him for looking out for you. Now he’s a great lad that Tommy. Good to his Mam, fetches and carries, brings in the coal he does. He’s out there now, scraping out the frogs in Fred’s mower.’
‘Well, I didn’t say at the time, Dad, but he had a good rummage too…’
‘That bloody box! I’m ringing the council again to give them a piece of my mind. That bloody box! I’ll put it out for recycling, two weeks from Thursday.
‘That would be good… But Dad, I just thought, if you did recycle the box, it would be gone altogether.’
‘So! Good riddance, I say.
‘Well, we wouldn’t know what was to blame for all our problems. People might think it was our own fault.’
‘Hmm, you’ve got a point there, love… Perhaps we’ll keep it… But you’ll have to stop looking in it!’
‘I will, Dad… I promise.’
Somewhere Else Writers Group 