Liars' League

The Good Neighbour by Maggie Womersley

Read by Stephen Wedd

Bob Bradbury from next door was sitting in the swing seat on our porch, rocking himself back and forth like a man possessed.

"If I hadn't known how to make French toast none of this would have ever happened," he said, not for the first time.  One of his broad, brogue-clad feet was planted squarely on the porch while the other pushed against the screen door. Staring and rocking, just staring and rocking; so that the whole seat complained with a creak and a whine and I felt the boards beneath us rock like a boat. He was beginning to annoy me.

The Crossing by J. M. McLeod

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Read by Marc Forde

  

Every day I see a lunatic. His daily routine is similar to mine and our routes intersect exactly.  My walk to the train station takes nineteen minutes.  I leave my house at precisely the same time each morning in order to catch my train with no arduous 'standing around on the platform.'  The lunatic has a schedule just as rigid.  His timing is impeccable.  His routine is fixed exactly – though it is probably not employment which drives him. I have an office job in the city.

The View from Under the Table by Lee Reynoldson

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Read by Silas Hawkins

 

I much prefer the view from under the table. I like to be the first one there at any social gathering. Besides, I do my best drinking there.

Take tonight, a dinner party. Please, someone, take tonight, wrap it in a faded memory and bury it somewhere it will never be found. I mean, is this what life boils down to in the end? It wasn't what I signed up for. The food is great, the company is good too, superb choice of wine, mind if I top up … again? Cheers.