She doesn’t need a loo! – Friday Fictioneers


‘Papa, now?’

‘Ten more minutes, honeycomb.’

‘But, I need to go!’

‘Try holding it in, muffin.’

My eight-year-old hopped around, holding her butt, face red as a beet. I would have laughed, but we couldn’t afford things like laughter in these desperate times.

‘Papa, please?’

‘Five more minutes, sweetie. Your mom is still out and about. So is Darren. Why don’t you go behind that nice tree.’

‘I want MY bathroom, Papa.’

I could see my ex-wife and her Darren milling around in the house. They usually wander off for a snack around this time.

Why do bloody zombies need bathrooms?

Even (un)dead, she gets the house.

Written in response to Russell’s prompt for Friday Fictioneers hosted by the awesome Rochelle. Please find other entries here



  1. I really enjoyed this bit of fiction, so thank you! I haven’t done much promoted writing, but you make it look easy and like a ton of fun 🙂


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