Big Bigger crouched in the herbaceous border, in the pouring rain, wearing only his jimjams and a look of terror.
“Wossee doin’?” Bernard was puzzled.
Big Bertha snorted. “You just watch.”
Mother Big appeared in the doorway. She had a shotgun in one hand and a bag of something in the other. Putting the bag down on the veranda she hefted the shotgun and the sound of birdshot hitting grass made Bernard wince.
“If that’s still there in the morning, the next shot is your balls.”
“Let that be a lesson to you, Bernard, never buy your wife costume jewellery.”
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