Monday, 1 February 2010
Ghastlier than a thousand ghouls
Honestly, I'm surprised people didn't run screaming for the hills when I went out earlier. My hair was a greasy mess, as was my skin; what I thought was an acceptable amount of stubble in fact looked like I was auditioning for Robinson Crusoe; and the clothes I was wearing looked as if they'd been pulled out of the washing bin. I must have been ghastlier than a thousand ghouls!
Long time readers may have guessed the reason for this lapse in standards (if they're not out-and-out rude, that is): Yes. It was all down to MirrorMe again.
The dratted reflection had once again got up before me and pampered & preened until he looked fantastic, then beat me to the mirror so I thought it was me I was looking at, not 'Me. You can imagine my horror when I got home and saw my reflection in the hall mirror. I'm surprised it didn't shatter at the piercing scream I gave! The fact that I saw my actual reflection and not MirrorMe means he must still be out somewhere. Well, I've got a surprise for him when he comes home: I'm going to trap him between two mirrors so he can never go out again!
Mwah hah hah hah haa!