When she’d gone to bed the night before the one single thought in her head had been how to find a husband, but she woke up as a pear. Maybe a bear. She felt comfy in her new pelt, coiled power in her shoulders, keen sense of smell. The milk in her fridge was on the turn and she binned it but there was a block of cheese at the back and she gulped that down in one. Then she threw open the front door and shambled off to work, people scattering neatly aside as she went, cars slowing up or pulling over. She didn’t miss having a waistline.
Geoff Sawers is a single dad with a disabled child. In his abundant spare time he enjoys dreaming up alternative uses for British politicians.