Looking After the Little Lady

by Bob Jacobs

My wife is shrinking. Yesterday she couldn't get up onto the sofa without a hand. This morning, the size of a banana, she jumped up and down on the pillow yelling at me to call a doctor. Right now she's in a Cornflakes box lined with cotton wool by the window, and she's not much bigger than a mouse. I'm trying to read the newspaper, but she keeps shrieking at me to do something in that squeaky little voice of hers. So, I fetch my coat, slip on some shoes and leave her a note saying that I'm off to get help, and on the way out I unlock the cat-flap so that she has some company while I'm gone.


Bob Jacobs, who told us of The Man Who Held On To a Tree, lives in the south-east of England with his wife and kids and Sony Vaio. In his spare time he likes to lie motionless on his back, whistling and staring at clouds.