One wild night, blinded by the moonlight, blinded by their passions, three young men darted across a field. The only way to distinguish the figures was to say the man in the lead wore a brimmed hat and one of the men, the man who ran slightly slower than the other two, looked to be carrying a bundle. He held it close to his chest as he ran.
In the distance, a car followed them. It was driving across the field leaving deep ugly tire tracks trailing after it.
The men ran faster.
Flecks of dirt spurted from the car as it took up speed.
The woman in the car who’d been grinding her teeth previously, smirked a little. She knew something they didn’t. At the end of the field was a great towering fence.
The headlights of the car lit up the fence in question and one of the men swore loudly. He held up his hands to the other two. One of them, the one in the hat, tried to climb the fence. His hands gripped the bars but there was nothing for his feet so he slid down every time he attempted to push himself up.
The other two backed up next to him, having given up and awaited their fate.
The woman stopped the car and got out. Her heeled shoes struggled in the mud as she advanced towards the men.
The bundle one of the men was holding turned out to be a rugby ball. He tightened his grip on it.
The woman glared at the three men and they physically shook in fear.
“I’m sorry mum” one of them whimpered.
“Get in the car you’re late for dinner!”
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