BY MELODIE CORRIGALL
| On finally digesting the transforming word “gig” over the din of the pub noise, the friends sailed above the deflating grumbles of wives and bosses into a sunny future. Only on considering task number 7, did they detect the sound of a their hot air balloon hissing. Before that expectations were high… “We’ve got a gig,” Trevor had crowed, rushing through the crowd to his pals in the corner booth. When his friends, crunched into their regular table didn’t cheer at the good news, Trevor waved a wad of paper and roared, “A gig. Here’s the contract.” “A gig?” said Bert. “An event, an engagement, our chance to shine,” screeched Trevor. “I know what a gig is but are we ready?” “If you wait until you’re ready you’ll never sail,” said Elmer. |
