Wednesday, 21 November 2012

High-velocity rifle . . .

10 Forsythia Grove
Outer Hamlet
My Dear Ralph
I am trying to keep my eye on the sights so-to-speak, owing to having been stricken with agonizing stiffness of the lower back.  Never attempt to carry a wheelbarrow laden with shorn branches up a long flight of stone steps is my advice to you - assuming you ever exit your present premises that is!
Aren't there any actual staff over at Small Cell gaol pet?  It doesn't seem de rigeuer (if that is the appropriate phrase) for your cell mate to requisition all your blankets for his own use!  You really should have taken me up on my offer to give you martial arts lessons (free) for, if you had, you would not be feeling so helpless now.  If things deteriorate any further, you had better equip me with his description, so that I can pick him off in the exercise yard with my high-velocity rifle!  (I do hope no-one else is reading my missives dear; do let me know if the envelope seal appears to be tampered with). 
Meanwhile, I went off on a long walk to Shoe Magna with my chum Zelda the other day. She has recently taken early retirement from the 'Explosives Sniffer' section of the police force with her bloodhound, Zipper.  And the reason for this retirement is because she has started to suffer from problems with her balance and co-ordination.  I did not actually realize how bad this problem was until we got back from this outing with myself being the only uninjured person!  First of all we were tramping down some muddy slope or other and I heard a thump (and a scream) immediately to my rear.  It was Zelda, who had slipped and bounced on to her nose on the turf.  Well it would have been funny pet, had it not been for the fact that she was prone on the ground and in an obvious state of distress.  'This keeps on happening,' she wept as I patted her back and adjured her to stay put until she felt composed.  Why is it always at these precise moments that a crowd of hillwalkers come round the corner and commence gaping at the scene?  Standing by Zelda's side - and chirping that we did not require to be evacuated by helicopter - I waved them past.  And, once the blood and dirt had been mopped off Zelda's nose, we were ready to continue.  However, she had lost confidence and, for quite some time, we had to proceed choo-choo style (her behind me and with one hand on my shoulder) until she could carry on, unaided.
And then, about half-an hour later, Zipper disappeared under the gate to a farmhouse and, almost immediately, the most piteous screams (his) ensued, from a position just out of sight.  Naturally pet, I just craned my head over the fence from a safe distance, as Zelda does not know about my past and is not aware that I always have a Glock hand gun stashed about my person.  Most fortuitously, it turned out that a cat (going by the name of  'Slasher') was more than capable of carrying out a vigorous defence of his territory.  In fact, it was greatly amusing to see said Slasher advance, slashing the air before him, with an extended front paw!  Having an animal such as this in one's pack would have been a great asset during any parachute drop into enemy territory I must say.  However, I covered up my musings as best I could, grabbed Zipper by the collar upon his emergence - also bleeding from the nose - while Zelda extended her apologies to the farmer's wife.  This lady was actually most helpful and, remarking that Slasher had seen off any number of dogs over the years, she hastened in to get the bottle of Hibisol she keeps for dog First Aid!   'What a wonderful cat,' I couldn't help from remarking.  'I don't suppose he is for sale?  I think the SIS could put him to very good use out in the field!'  Both the lady and Zelda herself gave me a very odd look at this point as, in my enthusiasm, I had almost given myself away!
Well dear.  That's about all for now.  I have parcelled up a skipping rope for you, so that you may keep warm in your cell overnight without a host of goose bumps breaking out!
Aunt Agatha

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