The first thing I noticed was the early morning sun hitting me in the eyes through the tent flap. As I eased my weary bones into a more comfortable position, I resisted the temptation to dig my elbow into the snoring body beside me. It was his fault we were out here in the middle of nowhere. I felt like the Princess and the pea, with the sharp little stones digging into me, and I wondered how I had managed to get even a few minutes sleep.

Then I realised what had awakened me. A great noisy flock of raucous birds had risen from the surrounding gums and taken startled flight. I instantly reconsidered, and brought my elbow into play in my husband's ribs.

"Steve!" I hissed. "Something's scared the birds. Hadn't you better get up and have a look?"

He turned his early morning breath on me and blinked and yawned and stretched a bit.

"Don't be daft!" he grumbled, running his hand over what he called his designer stubble, but what I called his too-lazy-to-shave face. "What, you expect a troop of lions to come lolloping up to the tent?"

"It's a pride, stupid! Go on, have a look."

"This isn't wildest Africa," he yawned. "It was probably just a koala farting, and the birds objected to the smell!"

"It could be anybody. They might have a gun. How are we going to defend ourselves?"

"Easy!" he mumbled as he rolled over. "Get out of your PJ.'s and stand there in the buff. That'll frighten anybody off!"

And that, Your Worship, is why I beg that the charge of manslaughter should be thrown out and a finding of justifiable homicide be handed down!

© Sandy Parkinson 2001 Word Count 286