MR JOHNSON
I don’t know how often a tap spoils, only that since we moved into this house, Mr. Johnson has come to repair the tap in mummy’s bathroom five times. I wonder why it spoils quickly, especially when mum is always there watching him do it. Whenever he leaves, she would tell me it’s working now, only to see Mr. Johnson here again next week. Mr. Johnson doesn’t like me and I don’t like him either because mummy makes me stay away from her room when he’s around and I remain alone in the living room playing with my toys.
I wonder why the room is always quiet when he’s working; when he’s supposed to be removing the thing that is blocking the water. I moved forward, I didn’t know the door wasn’t properly locked and so I fell inside. Mr. Johnson was wearing only a shorts and mum was tying a wrapper. Her bed had collapsed.
“Junior,” Mummy said. “Did I tell you Mr. Johnson is also a carpenter?”
Oyster
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