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Circulation: 174,678,884 |
Issue: 382 | 6th day of Running, Y11 |
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Poetry
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"The 'End' of Polly the Spotted Gelert" by ballerinafaerie
"Yes, sir?" I asked politely. "You can't hog the bench. Others need to use it. Now get yourself home!" He was growling now, his voice low and menacing. I felt quite scared. I hopped off the bench and scurried down the street before he could realise that I had no home to go to. To be honest, I would have expected that to be obvious in the first place, what with my newspaper duvet and wooden bench mattress...
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