The Queen touched down in Halifax to celebrate the anniversary of our navy, and I was there.
It’d taken doings to secure my place in the crowd, but I’d made it happen.
As she took the stage to speak, from the back of the room, I screamed: “Sing Fat Bottomed Girls!”
The room went silent. The crowd weren’t amused.
Security moved through the crowd toward me, and I feared for my safety until the Queen, the very picture of dignity and class, stepped up to the mic, and did the unexpected.
She sang Fat Bottomed Girls.
And f*cking rocked it.
Monday, June 28, 2010
Labels: 100 words, Drabble, Queen, Short story
Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)
Post a Comment