Monday, 12 November 2007
Even after swearing that I'd never use the vile method of public transport again, I found myself aboard the NightShip. Thankfully, it wasn't a long journey from Londinium, relatively speaking, to Norwich.
On the way back, I'd got talking to a very nice young man called Marcus. Rawr! He's a total fox.
Well, not a total fox, a werefox, in fact.
He accidently stepped on the hem of my cloak almost garotting me. I turned to give him the Evil Eye (it was oozing in my pocket and I just wanted rid of it) and became rooted to the spot. Not only because he was still standing on my cloak, but because of his beauty. I'm surprised I didn't dribble.
Anyway, we got talking and it turned out he's a tree surgeon. I just happened to mention my cherry* and he, very obligingly, said he'd come over and see to it.
The NightShip stopped at Mousehold and we made to disembark. I glared at the red rubber clad ticket inspecting harlot and she gave me evils back. Marcus made as if to talk to her, but she spun on her heel, totally blanking him in favour of pushing an elderly demon down the gangplank.
On the dock, as the Nightship faded into the distance a bit sooner than normal physics allowed, I asked Marcus about the blanking. He replied:
to be continued...
* Tree. Cherry tree.