The Novel - The Ozone Café, Short-Lived

Short-Lived (contd)

The two men leaned on the fender of the ute, peering into the engine cavity. Bill Sanderson began quietly enough, but soon his expertise on cars quickly emerged with a shake of the head, pursed lips, and then an informed choice of words. 'Generator's buggered, me old son. Look there, water's your problem. Easy fixed. Old Grumble Guts up at the Mobil should have one.'

'Yeah, I knew she was ready to pack it in. What else could go wrong, hey?'

'Least this will only cost you a few quid. My boat, poor love, ripped apart and ignored by the gods as my pride and joy.'

'You got insurance?'

'On the store I have, but not with the boat. Well, I hardly ever take her out. She's just been sitting there gathering bird shit.'

'Still you could always do a patch job.'

'What about your outboard?'

'Don't wanna know...'

At this point the two men were approached by a young piercing voice that would pass through a pyramid.

More...