Part The Last
Neep. Neep eep neep. Crunch, crunch. Neep. Twitch, twitch. Neep eep. Twitch.
Editor's Note:- The above cryptic entry was all that was discovered, along the preceding segments and assorted other scribblings, in the wreckage of the good Squire's flat. The flat itself was found to be covered in pieces of fur and discarded peanut shells. Of the good Squire himself, no sign was ever found, despite much exhaustive searching (well, at least a week and a half). [1]
Local Actonian legend has it that ever since the Squire vanished, a strange creature can be seen roaming the wilds of Walpole Park when the moon is particularly strange. Neither fully man nor fully squirrel, the strange creature arrives mysteriously, pinches your nuts and departs. Of course, most local legends are a load of old gnat's chuff.
Good night, gentle readers. Sleep well... if you can
[1] In fact, his mysterious disappearance was not reported until his brother, the much reviled Prime Minister Kirk The Younger, arrived at his flat for one of their traditional brandy-sodden Friday night opiate and whore binges.
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In Scotland, neeps are what we call turnips (turnips are what you lot call swedes). Now I'm scared of turnips. That is a fairly impressive feat you've pulled off there Mr the Fella. Neep.
ReplyDeleteJust doing my bit to spread the fear of the vegetable. And of the squirrel. And of vegetables shaped like squirrels. And of squirrels shaped like... well, you get the idea with that one.
ReplyDeleteIf I have nightmares of neeping turnips, you will be blamed.
ReplyDeleteI will accept that blame. Probably whilst laughing in an evil fashion.
ReplyDelete