The Runaway Hands

Macready Flood woke up to find that his hands had run away.

     He didn’t realise this is what they had done at first, until he saw a note on his desk.        

   ‘We have run away,’ the note said, ‘we don’t like what you do with us. We don’t like the way shopping bags cut into us, we don’t like it when you trap us in doors, we don’t like doing the gestures you force us to do and we don’t get on with the rest of your body. We don’t like doing favours for everyone else, ‘scratch me’, ‘tickle me’, ‘rub me’. We hate doing the rude gestures that you make us do. We want a more satisfying life than holding your drinks and your cutlery. We are artists and we are going to Vienna to train in an academy and we will create masterpieces. We have named ourselves Terence. Do not call us.’

     Macready was upset, He had always assumed his hands had liked him.