Sheila's Dribs 'n Drabs

Grandpa watched football on TV. “So Brian, what do you think?” “Well, it’s a game of two halves.” Grandpa dug a hole in his sandwich. A spider crawled across the commentator’s desk; across the screen. Granddaughter screamed. Grandpa’s sandwich had a hard bit, chopped spider in halves, dropped in bin.

Okay, I know the World Cup's not even nearly finished, but this is what came to mind. The pitch is empty, football done, the cup awarded to the team that won, and now one lonely boy stands guard, watching the setting sun. He reaches for the orb as if a ball, throws it and runs. Sure-footed, dribbles down the pitch, eyes floodlit with his fun. But, fouled in the box, he falls like a pretzel to the ground. No sound, but empty air draws breath. Child looks for the ref then smiles, finds the spot, takes the shot. The pitch is empty, sun gone down. A father’s son bows low to the cheering crowd before going home.