Noooooooooooooooooooooooooo!!!?!?!
A loud pitched scream echoed through the whole house.
I looked up from the incredibly important pie chart'y report I was creating.
That was odd, it sounded like the Good Lady but she normally didn't scream like she was being skinned alive and poked with a dog's todger?
At least, not during the day.
No matter. I must have imagined it.
I went back to my pie-chart and frowned as I debated whether or not to make it 3D with a drop shadow or not.
Noooooooooo?!?!?! It can't be!?!?
Again, the insane screaming.
It seemed to be coming from downstairs.
This was quite bizarre. The only person in the house who could scream like that was the Good Lady but why would she be? It's not like we were having a game of beef boggle?
I kicked back in my office chair and lifted a pencil to my mouth for a bit of a chew and a think.
Perhaps she was being murdered?
I guess that would learn her for not having sufficient secret weapons stashed around the house.
I let out a mean chuckle and wheeled back to the computer.
Now my beautiful little pies. Where were we?
I smacked my hands together and waggled my fingers in preparation of the pie fiddling.
DAAAADDDY-BEEEEEAAAAR?!?!? Why the hell aren't you answering?!
It was the Good Lady.
Damn. Who shat in her handbag?
Coming.
Grumpily, I got up and huffed down the stairs and into the kitchen where the commotion was coming from.
What is it, man. I'm working?
I puffed moodily.
The Good Lady's face was grey and ill looking. She pointed to our wine rack. (don't worry, it's not a posh, ooo look at me wine rack, it's a shonky old wooden box with holes.)
Daddy, it's the start of the weekend and I just realised... We are out of wine?!
Her voice warbled up and down as if she were riding on the back of a gigantic galloping ferret.
I looked at her.
I looked at the wine rack.
Suddenly, the enormity of what I was seeing hit me with full force and I doubled over and retched as if punched square in the funbags.
What?! How can this be? How can we have allowed this to happen?!
I reached out a hand to the worktop and used it to steady myself as the realisation sunk in.
We had no wine.
This was a disaster.
I mean, I drink beer mostly but in between beer times, I like to drink wine.
Heaven forbid there be a dry moment?
I raised my gaze, grey and forlorn to the good Lady.
I will have to go out there into the Covid-19 wasteland and risk certain death to fetch us wine. Won't I?
The Good Lady flinched back as if stung before gathering herself and sadly nodding.
Yes, It is the only option.
A fat salty tear trailed down one of her loveable, willing-to-sacrifice-her-man-for-wine cheeks.
I sniffed back a tear myself. I couldn't help it. I had grown fond of this life and it would be a dreadful shame to leave it.
But needs must.
Mentally I girded my loins and hitched up my skirts.
I will do it. I will go to the supermarket for wine. Tell the children I loved them.
The Good Lady watched me head for the door.
As I headed out into the virus-laden wastelands beyond, she called after me.
We loved you too, Daddy-Bear!
