Wednesday's Words on a Friday

The original Words for Wednesday was begun by Delores and eventually taken over by a moveable feast of participants when Delores had computer troubles.

The aim of the words is to encourage us to write, a story, a poem, whatever comes to mind.
If you are posting an entry on your own blog, please let us know so we can come along and read it.

This month the words are supplied by  Margaret Adamson and friends and can be found here.

This week's words are:

1. The show must go on

2. The straw that broke the camel's back

Here is my story:

"Oh no", moaned Mr. Willoughby. "This is the last straw. The straw that broke the camel's back, as the saying goes."

"Whatever has gone wrong now?" said Myrtle. 'What else could possibly have happened? We've had the lighting go haywire, the plumbing all backed up and flooded and now you're moaning again. What is it this time?"

"The curtains," said Mr Willoughby. "I pulled the cord to open and close them, see if they were working, and they just fell apart. They're in shreds all over the stage. Which hasn't been refinished as promised either."

"Oh dear," said Myrtle. "I'd forgotten the curtains must be as old as the theatre. I suppose there isn't time to run up a new pair at this late stage."

"Of course not," snapped Mr. Willoughby. "This really is the last straw! There's nothing else to be done, we'll just have to cancel the performance."

"But we can't!" cried Myrtle. "All the tickets have been sold. Parents and grandparents are coming in from all over the county. The show must go on!"

"Well then, you think of something," said Mr Willoughby tiredly. "I've had enough of all the shenanigans going on here. Should have stayed in London." He turned away to the small kitchenette and made himself a cup of tea. "At least the urn is working." he said as he sipped.

"The fridge is filled with refreshments too," said Myrtle. "Sally and Joan worked all day yesterday to make those little pastries and cakes."

"Joan?" spluttered Mr. Willoughby. Not Joan with those free swinging, low hanging, unfettered boobies? The big watermelon sized ones?"

Myrtle lost herself in a fit of giggles for a minute, then said, "That's enough of that Mr Willoughby. That sort of talk is no longer considered politically correct, even if there is no one else here to hear it. You're right, of course it was that Joan, there isn't another Joan around here, but I made sure she tied her apron nice and tight so she wasn't swinging into anything."

"Why doesn't she wear some sort of support?" asked Mr Willoughby.

"No one knows," said Myrtle. "She's refused to wear a bra her whole life. Anyway, back to this performance. I've had an idea. It's to be in the early evening, so why don't we have it outside on that lovely paved area with the raised end as the stage?"

"That could work," said Mr Willoughby, feeling much cheered after a good laugh and his cup of tea. "The little cubby house out there could become the manger, with the front opened up, and the shepherds could come in from behind the bushes...."