.title Sands Fast Photo
.fg 20
.c;^&Sands Fast Photo\&
.s
.c;Michael A. Sterner
.nmpg 1
.page
.;
.lm 8.p -8.at
Man: Here's me photos, Bobby.
Bo: You kin pick 'em up later. I'll have 'em done by Tuesdee aftuhnoon.
Man: Hey, you dint look sa well, Bobby. What's wrong?
Bo: I've not eaten fa three weeks, now.
Man: Completely off ya food, eh? Why's that?
Bo: I'm on a strike to end the British occupation of Northern Ireland,
 ya twit!
Man: Ah. Why dint ya just hold up a sign on a stick like most people?
Bo: Cause I couldn't get no poster paint, that's why.
Man: So ya think starving ya'self is goin ta make the killin stop?
Bo: No, I spose not. I'm just not very hungry. So what are those 
 photograph, anyway?
Man: Ah. They're pictures of me family. They sent me snapshots of a nice,
 big, Sundee dinner. There's a couple of shots of Mither carvin up a 
 roast mooten chop. Puttin pieces in stew. Bakin some scones, fixin
 bread puddin ...
Bo: Stop already, no more. Sounds quite good, akshilly. What did ya
 use, an instamatic?
Man: Aye.
Bo: With a flash?
Guard: All right, Sands. Got a little note for ya from Margaret Thatcher.
 By the way, are those slides finished yet?
Bo: Surely, they are. Here they be. Let's see. That'll be three packs
 a cigarettes.
Guard: Mooch obliged.
Man: A note from Maggie Thatcher? What might that be?
Bo: Probably in reply to me letter sayin that I'd go on a hunger
 strike if she dint meet me demands. (reads the letter)
Man: What's it say?
Bo: She wants to know me next of kin.
Man: (shakes his head) Anything else?
Bo: Yeh. She wants to know if her film's done.
Man: Is it?
Bo: Aye, it's been done fa weeks. But I'm too weak ta deliver it.