A lot's been happening to me lately.
My Origami business has folded, and my hat-making business is short of staff,
in spite of the advert in the paper...."Who
wants to be a milliner?".
To make ends meet, I've been working in a mitten factory all night. But it is exhausting work. Well, wouldn't YOU be tired if you'd been up making glove all night?
Well, I thought it was time to end it all, and I saw the following on an aerosol bottle:
"Deliberately concentrating and inhaling the contents can be fatal".
So....what if you don't concentrate.
What if you think about something else, eh?
I couldn't risk it, and chose life, but still had a faith crisis.
I went to see the reverend Toothsome O'Flatulance, even falling back on Catholisism
and quick visit to cardinal Cardi O'Vascular, who told me that the alterboys
always seemed ready to bend over forwards to help.
Perhaps I should start my own religion....you know that Islamic terrorist group,
Hamas?
Well, I set up a similar group called 'Humous', dedicated to a fatwah against
chickpea based food products.
Nothing came of it...so I though I'd turn my hand to writing books, paying
homage to two previous
great works; firstly, a novel about a man who could not clear his throat of
troublesome phlegm: Tales of the Unexpectorated, to be followed by Great
Expectorations, a story of what happened when he finally managed to clear the
docker's oyster.
That didn't work, so I tried being a ghost writer, and wrote two more....
Effective Draught-proofing by Celia Doors
Diary of a Cross-dresser, by Ann Frank
I was lonely, too. I even took off the "wiggly line symbol" key from
my keyboard: (usually lives on the same key as ' ) and went dancing with it.
Yes, I was waltzing me tilde.
Evenutally, some good luck: I won the right to inherit the back passenger seat from my Grandfather's Harley Davison on a gameshow called...'Who wants to Be a Pillion Heir'.
So now I'm working for a charity helping werewolf kids called "Shave the Children"...