When In France

SAVING ELLIOT ONE SHOT BY SUE PERNICE (A.K.A NICOLE)

        “ARTHUR, FOR THE LAST fucking time you idiot - call Mum.” Macaulay’s exasperated voice bounces of the walls of the - quite frigid - jail cell that’s withholding him and his twin brother.

        “You call Mum, you prat. You’re the one who swore at him in French.” Arthur stays as stubborn as ever – a trait shared by most of the family (a trait most shown by a young girl named Elliot).

        “Fuck off, Arthur, I was polite and insulted him in a language he understood. You set fire to his trousers. They were nice trousers, too.”

        “You’ve got to admit, Mac, that prank was ace. Did you see his face, though? He looked a bit like a monkey,” Arthur says enthusiastically, proceeding to attempt to recreate the poor French man’s expression.

        “I’d always known you were a bit thick,” Mac mutters angrily, absently banging his foot against the thick bars that separated him and his twin from the outside world.

        “We could always call Dad...” Arthur says.

        “And have him tell Mum right after? No thank you, I’d rather face the beast head on.”

        “Macaulay!” Arthur gasps dramatically, clutching his chest. “Did you call Mum a beast?”

        “Well she is sort of scary, don’t you think?”

        There’s a short pause as Arthur decides to extract the same matches he used to set fire to the victim’s britches. “Whad’dya say we say fire to this joint?” His eye holds a mischievous glint as he carefully brings out a match.

        “Arthur, no! Are you dense?” Mac jumps up, snatching away the matches from Arthur’s hands. “Just for that, you’re calling Mum,” Mac states, pushing Mac towards the opening of the jail cell.

        Arthur begins to protest, but gives it up when he realizes that someone is going to have to call her, and due to the unjust circumstances, that someone is him.

        “Um, Sir!” Arthur calls for the lazy looking bobby with a handle bar mustache.

        The man startles, arousing from his slumber and knocking over his cup of coffee. He grunts, sitting up and crossing his doughy arms. Arthur takes notice of his name tag reading ‘Mr. Gulley’. “What is it?” His French accent is thick and barely comprehensible.

        “Aren’t I entitled to one phone call?” Arthur smiles charmingly.

        Mr. Gulley grunts again, lifting himself up from his chair and grabbing the phone. He pulls the coiled cord long enough for it to slip through the bars of the cell. Arthur takes it, promptly dialing his mum’s number.

        “Hello?”

        “All right, Arthur?” The twin’s mother’s voice sounds worried, and frankly Mac doesn’t blame her.

        “I’m splendid, and you, dearest mother?” Arthur puts on his biggest smile (if you look okay, then people will believe everything’s okay!) and blatantly lies to his mum.

        “Arthur, are you sure everything is alright?” Macaulay is quite amused at his mother’s distrust of them.

        “Everything is A-Okay, Mum, promise.”