A grave mistake…

5 10 2008

A grave mistake...

Matron’s a fanatical murderer.  Last week, for example, just to keep up with her insatiable bloodlust, she managed to work her way through an entire agency’s worth of secretary temps.  I needed some creative thinking to persuade the agency to send some more after the 37th failed to hand in her timesheet.  I don’t think my story of there being a giant secretary magnet hovering over the country plucking secretarys from the streets (and that they were at their safest at the institution where we have a strict no giant magnet flight zone in force), was totally convincing.  The promise to Boris of a night with Brad Pitt was a useful bribe that kept the rouse going longer than ordinarrily possible, though.

Still…with murder comes body disposal. 

Luckily for Matron I’m adept with shovels, acid, hungry pigs, DNA alteration and hacking into Police networks to modify their so called “evidence”.  It took me a while to get good at this stuff, so some of my early attempts, circa November 1938, were somewhat shambolic.  Take this for example.  I left a huge clue to all the authorities that I’d buried the fruits of Matron’s foolish behaviour.  At least, that’s what I think I buried there.  It’s been a while.

So I decided to take a peek.  There’s no harm in peeking right?

At first it was all pretty normal.  I excavated through the usual bones, teeth, spoons and amulets of ancient and ungodly power.  Then I found something really intriguing.  It had an eery mysterious glow and it smelt of wasps.  The light danced across its surface and it was dispensing weak lemon drink into a small cup that never seemed to overflow or run dry.  Then it began singing a melody of such enchanting beauty that I was powerless but to lick it furiously. 

A few hours later I was aware that my tongue had swollen to the size of my left foot – which was just as well as my left foot appeared to have gone.  As had my right elbow, though strangely my right hand was right where it should be.

It was ace.

But when I lost awareness of my eyebrows I knew I was sinking into trouble.  But I couldn’t stop licking.  The melody was washing over me in waves of surrealness that compelled me to lick.  I could feel my life ebbing away from me.

 

A pain.

 

A stinging pain at the back of my head.

 

Then nothing.

 

Nothing at all.

 

 

I awoke in my cell.  Matron was there.  And so was all of my body.  In fact, my body had been augmented by a large shovel shaped bump on the back of my head.  Matron explained.  I should never had tried to regain my foolishness by unearthing what I had stowed years before.  Matron, it would seem, had taken appropriate action to free me from my folly and save my life.

But damn.

I had found an eternal source of weak lemon drink and it was cruelly taken from me. 

 

I guess my quest continues…

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