Photo © Ted Strutz
The constant noise went on and on, all day, all week, giving him a splitting headache. Then there was the tossing and turning and whistling at night.
He was fed-up. It was time to fix it.
Out came his tools, and the tarp of course. He needed to keep the floor clean. A few strikes with the hammer fixed the noise problem. Washcloths helped with the spillage.
But the nuisance was still in the way. Plus putrefaction was a concern.
So he sailed to where the current was the strongest, weighted her down, and tossed her overboard.
Ah! Blessed silence.
In response to Rochelle’s Friday Fictioneers challenge of 6 October 2017