A Fierce Sunday

Nell: A word of warning.

Me: What?

Nell: Don’t argue with Poppy today.

Me: How can I argue with her when she isn’t saying anything?

Nell: She has her sword.

Me: Where?

Nell: In the dog bed. I’m sharing it with her and it is most uncomfortable.

Me: She does look a little fierce this morning.

Nell: Let’s just say Sunday breakfast wasn’t the relaxed event it usually is.

Me: Did she cook it?

Nell: Yes. Huevos Rancheros.

Me: Spicy eggs?

Nell: Very spicy. Malcolm made the mistake of asking for no chilli in his.

Me: Didn’t that go down well?

Nell: It didn’t go down at all. His plate was removed. It’s Poppy’s way, or no way.

Me: Do you think there is any chance of some toast?

Nell: Unlikely. Fortunately Babycakes Gillespie is outside with his bagel cart, so all is not lost.

Me: That’s a relief.

Nell: I would get in the queue before the Welsh corgi choir arrive.

Me: Do we know why Poppy is fierce?

Nell: Sally thinks it might have something to do with Fifi La Beefy.

Me: I beg your pardon?

Nell: Susan was telling Poppy and Sally that she had ordered a luxury nest from Fifi La Beefy.

Me: Who is that?

Nell: Designer bedding. You must have heard of her. Dreadfully popular with the in crowd. Apparently she has a whole new range.

Me: I wouldn’t have thought Susan cared about the in crowd.

Nell: She doesn’t, but somebody sent her a voucher so she thought she would use it.

Me: And Poppy isn’t happy about it?

Nell: She has been fierce since then.

Me: I’m surprised she is so passionately against designer bedding. She loves my duvet.

Nell: There is more to this than meets the eye.

Me: Yes. Sorry.

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