Neat little lines and yet something is not quite right.
“Now then, now then. That won’t do! I want tallest in the middle, everyone else spread out equally to the sides. GO!”
A flurry of commotion.
The white figures adorned in yellow scramble around, getting into position. The Colonel stands before them, examining each in turn. This time they’ve got it right.
“Right!” he says. “We’ve been selected for patrol. I daresay none of us will survive it! But that’s what you signed up for, right?”
“SIR, YES SIR!”
“You there,” he gestures to the figure on his right. “You will go first! You’re the smallest!”
“Sir, yes sir!”
The Colonel smiles.
“Well off you go then! And good luck!”
The figure disappears off the end of the line. They listen as he marches out to the end of the circular parade ground and climbs up the tower at the end. A plop, a muffled scream and a crunch mark his passing.
“Well then,” says the Colonel, devoid of any remorse. “Who’s next?”
Mother was stood in the doorway of the kitchen, grasping hold of the heavy washing basket. Her stern eyes glared at me as I sat at the dinner table.
“What have I told you about playing with your food?”
I looked up from my toast soldiers. “Sorry, Mum!”
I waited until she was completely gone around the corner before turning to the five remaining toast strips. I held up the eggcup threateningly at each one of them.
“Well then. Who’s next?”