Updated: Mar 29
“Just a snap Luv. Give us a smile wontcha!”
She alights from the car with as much grace as she can muster. She refuses to bring herself down to their level.
“Go on luv, I’ll get you front page tomorrow.”
“This is a funeral for God’s sake, have some respect.” She whispers. These people are like vermin. A necessary part of the business perhaps, but she wishes they weren’t. This one has arrived at the cemetery on a moped, laptop on the seat ready to sling the latest muck through the ether to the photo agencies and thence the tabloids.
Then she sees it. In the depths of her ocean of grief, it rises like a white whale to her rescue. The shop window behind him, some clothes shop promotion. She slips her phone out.
One quick snap
This paparazzi standing perfectly framed before the shop window two giant ears behind him and a tail curled behind. Looking everybit the rodent he is.
“Rats at the funeral.” and a quick click to send to her millions of followers.
She’s pleased she managed to get his face and moped number plate clearly in the photo.
She can just imagine tomorrow’s front pages.
10 mins to write a scene where the roles are reversed/ power is swapped.