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

8 thoughts on “Blessed silence

  1. Nicely done. Could easily have been called ‘Cabin Fever’, I guess. This is why we need man caves. 🙂 But something tells me his alibi might not wash.

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