This story was prompted by the photo below, provided at Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers: https://flashfictionforaspiringwriters.wordpress.com/2016/01/05/fffaw-week-of-january-5-2016/ .
If the reference to Wayne Rooney doesn’t mean anything, it’s linked to the British media’s obsession with celebrities (including professional footballers) and their body parts (http://news.bbc.co.uk/sport1/hi/health_and_fitness/4283136.stm).
Click here to see other stories and add your own: http://www.inlinkz.com/new/view.php?id=596223 .
We were going to get away with it.
‘So,’ said Big Cop, ‘You’re studying medicine … and your homework was to make amphetamine?’
‘No comment,’ I said.
‘How much have you made?’ asked Little Cop.
‘None, yet,’ Kevin answered, ‘Ronan says the instructions must be wrong.’
‘Objection,’ I shouted.
‘Overruled,’ said Big Cop, smirking, ‘Can you prove you’re medical students?’
We pointed at the skellington. It was my idea to buy it. Genius.
‘You won’t mind doing a little test then?’ Big Cop asked.
They’d never catch me out, but I wasn’t sure about Damon.
‘I’m the one doing medicine,’ I said.
‘I’m doing medium studies,’ Damon added.
Nice one, I thought. They won’t want their cock-up in the newspapers.
‘Where are the metatarsals?’ asked Big Cop.
I pointed at Mr. Bones’ foot. Thanks Wayne Rooney.
‘Your turn, Carl,’ said Big Cop, looking at his partner.
‘Show me a scapula,’ said Little Cop.
Got you now, I thought, turning towards the utensils. We’ve only got a fish slice, but that pillock won’t know the difference.