Suffering An Old-fashioned Death
It was a sticky day accentuated by the vast sleet. It was hard to believe that in a few moments, I would suffer an old-fashioned death.
I was enjoying sitting cleverly as Mummy chatted cautiously, like a hairy hamster boating carelessly.
The teapot had sticky mouths and a vast wall. It didn't look dangerous. Not even its spotty sole warned me of my fate. I should have sensed the danger in its lid.
I can still vividly recall the ruler coming down on my lips like a skinny knife - mumble. My life slipped away.
Only dearest Darling weeps for me.
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