Perched on the edge of the green armchair, in the dark and cold, I shook my way through the night, my mind on evidence bags and murder detectives. I imagined them finding the sketches in the back of the book and then the hive of activity which would follow ending with Little Dick Tracy and his Goons speeding around to get me. Opening up my wrists, bleeding the pain to a finish and taking my punishment that way, was also a fleeting thought – a fleeting thought which keeps coming back.

It is now early evening. The new day has brought no activity. The street is deserted. Hardly a soul has passed from left or right all day and even Brian did not appear on his round this morning. As I write there is a strange lonely wind blowing and whistling across the window boxes. The black bag which seals the broken front window rustles. The world is waiting and I am waiting with it.

1902 852 370. That's Verity's phone number. I dialled and looked into nowhere as it rang. It was time to say goodbye...


  1. Please excuse the small post. I didn't quite have the time to write the post which I had intended.

    Verity's strange looking telephone number is actually not a phone number at all. To find out what it is, tap the full number with no spaces (1902852370) into Google. X

  2. Tristram,

    I think the leaves are finally falling, and I'm gonna miss you very much because there has been nothing so beautiful this season.

    All the beast,

  3. I googled those numbers and all I got was a link to a disgusting book by one of your queer friends. I mean do I shamelessly publicize my literary friends?

    Barbara Cartland:the Pink Collection

    Well if you didn't destroy the 'sketches' that PROVES you want to get caught.

    Luckily Tracy, Wines and Dennison make the Keystone Cops look like ... (fill in name of ultra competent cops - if you can think of any).

  4. Oh, Tristy, you reckless fool.

  5. No dont !! Don't do it .. wait and see what happens.. I would miss you too much xx

  6. Tristy...get a hold of yourself.

  7. @ Dusty Rose: You'd be perfect for my window box! Not in pieces of course, I mean a sole dusty rose, a dull fleck of colour through the drab winter months. It would speak volumes. The leaves are falling off indeed. The Silver Birch out back is all but completely bare and the world is moving in for the kill... I just wish I could once more find a comfort and a beauty in reading medical inserts and out of date timetables. But them days are gone... innocence is lost. X

    Mrs Winthrope: 1902852370 is the bridge between Cooper's and Cartland's book. I suppose the author will take that as an absolute insult and announce Jihad on me. I hope not though. last thing I need right now is another enemy.

    I never destroyed the book because it was only a few days ago that Verity brought it around and the relief of actually having the it back almost made me forget it was 'damning evidence' against my 'accidental slaying' of John. Also, I didn't know things were going to break as they did and it's also a mirreacle the police didn't discover Johns broken glasses or the Super Dong chain. X

    @ Simon: I only wish I could. And I try, very hard, but I keep wriggling loose and ending in a fat worse place than from where I started. X

    Ruby Tuesday & Jim: Oh, I didn't quite mean to sound like I was going to kill myself, more say goofbye because whatever happens I may not get another opportunity. X

  8. My nephew happens to have a copy of that awful book you linked to.

    He says it's more Cartland than Cooper.

    And I'll take his word for it...

  9. Is your nephew's copy signed? If it is you've red hot evidence there and could probably have the author charged with 'subliminal sodomy' or something??? It's worth a try.

    new post in an hour or so. X

  10. It's not signed. But even if it were, sodomy, subliminal or otherwise, is not something my nephew would complain to the police about...


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