Local child Jessie Manners had one job. 

One job and she fucked it.

It’s said the ten-year-old has been enjoying a day trip out with her mum, which involved mostly looking at the pretty houses they couldn’t afford and listening to mum describe in detail the renovation work she’d do to each one.

Though Jessie would have ordinarily minded the detour, she’d been feeling uncharacteristically generous today and had even allowed mum to peruse down more than two streets, which was usually her hard limit – though this may be prompted by the promise of visiting horses.

For her part in the deal, Jessie has been tasked with keeping an eye out for any upcoming servos and notifying her mother when she spied one on the way. 

“I’d completely render that one.”

“Not a fan of the colour.”

“Aw yes that’s the one, I’d pick that one.”

“Don’t like the latticework on that.”

Absentmindedly mustering up some enthusiasm as her mum spots a Queenslander, Jessie realises she’s forgotten to keep up her end of the bargain and mentally braces herself for a tongue lashing.

More to come.


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