‘Next Sunday, a day of rest? Nice one,’ said Petrus the Pirate to the admiral, pocketing a bag of coins. ‘Nice. Coasting around in the Caribbean sun.’
‘So you’ll let us pass? No aggression?’
‘I respect a day of rest. Good passage, Admiral Wessex,’ said Petrus, showing Wessex off the ship. ‘Your men will be impressed with your authority,’ he shouted.
Petrus’ men crowded around. ‘Sir, being paid off, sir?’
‘Drinking money.’ Petrus tapped the coins.
‘We didn’t sign up for this,’ complained One-tooth.
Petrus laughed. Didn’t I tell you – pirates are wicked. No rest for us. Sharpen your blades.
By Patrick ten Brink
Next Sunday
It will be over 250 days
Next Sunday I might not be here
Next Sunday is a lifetime away
Next Sunday next sun …
What sun?
Next Sunday will be over 250 days without sun
Next Sunday beef will be roasted
Grandmas and wine will be toasted
Next Sunday the world will change
Once again
The sun may disappear for a while
But then, there will be another Sunday
And another one and another one
And as people from the lowlands know better than anyone in the world
Even behind the darkest of clouds
the sun always shines
By AlexS
Next Sunday will be better than last Sunday. Last Sunday I ran out of both cat food and clean underwear. Which to remedy first?? The cat miaowed a lot, so I put on the last pair inside out and went to the market. On the street were several reserved parking notices, each displaying the date, June 2, June 2, June 2… I was on foot, so parking wasn’t an issue. But there was something about this June 2. Today it hit me, June 2 is my mother’s birthday. Well, like I said – next Sunday will be better than last Sunday.