The mouse was still and a cold, white Christmass passed it by with a dribble from the left nostril.
The latest work of Coleen Innf. of The Hut, Browbeaton on the Wold, Silver Hampton Jr., Ghent
was in the hand of a cat.
Dangerous at least: but more so because this cat was....Roger!
Yes. It was he who was him, come back.
Roger, having fought his way back from the Planet Gooshdiggfreel
with only a small unripe tomato and tight fitting patent leather shoes,
killed most of Bradford West with a morphing feline flu strain,
battered a Chinaman with a green banana, stole his Wolsley 1800
and drove to Somerset, syphoning petrol in the dark hours along the way.
Arriving at 6.30am on a frosty Tuesday morning 6 years later at the Pickled Mongoose Bar and Bistro,
he forced his way into the closed pub through the throng of all night turtle fondlers.
Enjoying a good lap dance and inhaling a few gin and tourniquets,
When Roger woke up, he went outside and got his bearings back
from the sod who was stealing the wheels from his stolen car that was stolen in Huddersfield anyway in 1961
for the MIlls and Boon dawn raid bank job heist theft stealing business, one million britisher punds, worth
4 euros and a warm beer in Benidorm.
It was getting late.
Roger took his pre- first printing book post edit sample out of its iron hat,
and in a corner next to the drunk mongoose, made the mistake of opening the cover page...
It was the brail edition.
Again, another failure for the The Boss in Monoccoco.
He looked around and studied his options.
Seeing nothing of interest except the group of blind Liverpulians who had taped themsleves
to the door of the beer cellar, he had an idea.
Wriggling up between them, he would keep warm until tomorrow, when he was supposed to
deliver the tome to The Boss in Moronoccoco.
He could catch the 2.16 football special train from Harpnashe to Sooth Hoompton,
and swim the 4,681 miles to France.
All would be very well.
He still had his bus pass in the name of Senior Edwardo Pabtiste, DOB 1892/09/23, height 7 foot 9 inches.
It would work if he used his special powers of post menapasual distraction and used tissues.
One of the group of blind Liverpudlians whom he was now stuck well in the middle of, accidentally touched the front cover of the written work.
AH! he yelled out, frightening the hell out of everyone and making the landlord get his shotgun down and lock his shorts in the pantry,
while the local slightly bent of vertical police sergent, Lewellyn Penrith Myuinithian,
watched out the back door for his straight constable to start his early morning shift.
You got a book there. I can read braile you know.
Sheeet. It was over. He was a had man.
Sergent Lewellyn turned round and glared into the tight small crowd.
what book is that, he asked.
It says... the man said, feeling the title on the front cover a second time to be sure....
It says ...and let forth a huge sneeze as the sergent had left the back door open and the draft coming in was as cold as a freezer with an attitude
to keep the dead fresh without electricity.
Tissue? offered Roger...
ah. thanks. the Liverpudlian said, religiously, not noticing that is was second hand.
The sound of a bicycle bell in the car park made everyone freeze.
They all knew it was Constable Jones, cousin of Corporal Jones from Dad's Army, but really;
and the most vindictive bastard in a uniform this side of Nottingham.
Probably, the Sergent once mused, because he came from Stood, and had a chip on his shoulder,
which he took out and polished in public places, and thus frightened the children
but interested some old ladies.
It was OK. Roger used the distraction to get out and away, and got his train on time.
Without further incident, the volume was delivered after only 21 years to The BOss in Moonoccocoon.
Roger was paid the handsome sum of shite all, half a packet of Minto's,
a salty version of Vogue Magazine Decemeber 1946 edition, featuring Catherine De Villnerve's mother, Thrush,
in a full length ball gown grown from crimson Turkish party onions,
and had his bus pass extended another 3 years.
All was well, and Roger took a minute as he planned his next sinister adventure,
having evilly copied the entire master work into Icelandic, and found out the tile in Yiddish
The Serious Autistic Flannel Linving in a Leather Briefcase, Cloverleaf Cover,
with real fake yellow silk lining.
Nice. Very Nice.
Next Time in ADVENTURES ON THE ASTRAL PLANE;
ROGER DISCOVERS POKEMON GIVES YOU A RASH....
FATHER MICHEAL OVERSEES COAL MINING FROM CARDIFF....
THE REDASH MINERS ATTEMPT TO REACH THE SPEED OF TUNNELING-
46 MAN YEARS PER COAL MINE
STARTING AT CARDIFF....
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