‘You swear too much.’
That’s what my son said, rattling his homemade swear box in front of me.
‘Pound a word. It will all go to a good cause.’
Then he slammed the front room door. Extra loudly.
The house shook. I swore at him. Twice.
Cost me two quid.
Day Two. He started a fight with his sister.
Cost me four quid.
Day Three. He took my car without asking.
Cost me five quid.
Day Four. He lost the garage key.
Cost me seven quid.
Day Five. He nicked the swear box and went out with his mates.
a bloody good cause.
I swear, one day, I’ll kill him.
Originally published: 101Words
