Short Stories

The Perfect Game

The Perfect Game

“I’ll be black!”

“No you can’t… I want to be black,” said the small boy.

“Can so… You can be green.”

“No!” the boy screamed. “That’s the same colour as snot!”

“Well, I am black… I am the plague,” the girl says holding out her hands and running at the small boy. “The plague!”

“No…” the boy said running through house and trying to evade his sister. “Mum!”

Mum came out of the kitchen wiping her hands on a dish cloth. “What is going on?”

“Ben wants to be black but I am black,” Mel said.

“I don’t want to be green!” Ben cried.

Sighing, Mum looked at her kids and then shook her head. “Mel you can’t be black, because I am. And you are yellow and you,” she pointed at Ben, “are blue.”

“But mum!” they said together.

“Nope, if you can’t play together then I will say who is what colour.”

The girl pouted and the boy scowled.

“Blue is for a boy,” Mum said.

“And I am the yellow peril!” Mel cried and ran toward Ben with her arms outstretched. Ben screamed and ran from his sister, his face split into a huge grin.

Behind them Mum smiled and walked after them into the dining room.

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