guthrie

Knock, Knock - Who's There?

 

     CLIFF WAS GROWING A LITTLE IMPATIENT. He drew quickly on his cigarette and with a puff of smoke said, "Try again, and knock a little louder. You said to come over for coffee at noon, and it's already ten past."

     "Sorry about this," replied Hoffman, his knuckles rapping sharply on the cottage door. "I know I said noon, and I could have sworn I was home. Perhaps I'm busy in the back garden. The carrots are coming up and I was going to have them for supper."

     The sound of his knocking faded into the still autumn sunshine and beyond the door was nothing but silence. A crow sounded down the lane, Cliff cleared his throat and dashed his cigarette to the ground. "This is rum of you, to be sure. Invite a chum over and leave him on the doorstep. Yes, rum of you indeed."

     Hoffman turned and smiled weakly. "I'm sure I'll turn up presently. Why not I tell you a joke while we wait. You'll see - the time will fly by and soon I'll be pouring you a mug of my best, with a cream custard and lemonade afterwards."

     "Go on." Cliff loved a good joke.

     "Knock-knock," began Hoffman.

     "Who's there?" queried Cliff, his curiosity now highly aroused.

     "You."

     "You who?"

     "Yoo-hoo, anybody home in there?"

     And they laughed and laughed.