I don’t mean to interfere, but people tell me that I do.
Frequently.
It’s just a habit, I guess. Sometimes it’s just taking an interest or offering advice or offering an opinion.
Other times I interfere more directly.
Like when I saw that guy shouting abuse at his girlfriend in the street.
Or when that drunk guy needed help staying upright.
And that store owner who refused service to that junkie girl. I helped both of them out.
There have been a few others. I just like to set things right, let these folks know it’s not okay and they shouldn’t be allowed to get away with acting like that. They bring down the tone of the whole neighbourhood.
So I interfere. So what? If I didn’t take care of them, then who would? Although, I’ve got to be honest, it’s getting a little crowded in the basement.
Written for #FOWC, hosted by Fandango Today’s prompt word was: Interfere.
Oh that last line!🙊
Is that where he keeps his guns? 😳
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Oh that last line!🙊
Is that where he keeps his guns? 😳
Or maybe just all those people…
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Bodies? Prisoners? Something not nice anyway – it never is in basements! 😉
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Does he keep them in chains? 😂
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Cages? Boxes? Something like that I imagine. I haven’t been to look! 🙂
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I don’t blame you. It probably smells really bad down there.
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I really like the feeling of this one. Gets you think charity and then it seems he’s a murderer. Very clever!
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Thank you Mason, much appreciated.
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Laughing!!!
I was convinced you were such a lovely guy 😄
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I would never trust me 🙂
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