Earlier today, I received some rather troubling news. I am not a man to cry easily, for I am Strong and Proud, and yet when I heard this piece of news I wept- I wept like a little baby after being jabbed in the belly with a pointy stick. My heart is broken. My dreams are ashes.
Apparently there are people out there, strange and unsettling and disturbed people, who are actually sitting down at their computers and READING THIS BLOG. In fact, if my source is correct, at least ONE of them is doing that RIGHT NOW.
I know you’re out there. I can feel you.
Why is this happening? Surely you must understand that I hate this. I have done everything I possibly can to convince you of this fact. And yet you persist in torturing me.
Don’t you understand? The more people that read this, the more successful it becomes. The more successful it becomes, the more I’ll have to write it. It is a circle, and it is a vicious one, and you are only adding to my misery. I hope this makes you HAPPY, you evil, evil people.
And comments! Some of you even have the audacity to leave comments! Do you want to know a secret? Do you?
Every time you comment on this blog, an angel loses its wings. You have been warned.
I refuse to tell you about my Christmas. You are not getting one ounce of information out of me. Not one. Apart from a complaint about the quality of my presents this year.
I knew they would be bad. I knew this would be a bleak year for gifts. I have told you, oh evil reader of this blog, about my sisters and the whole “curtain rail” fiasco. It may please some of you to know that I did not, in fact, receive a curtain rail. They passed that particular idea to my mother, who has promised me she will sort out my curtain rail requirements over the coming weeks. Oh, my joy is boundless. So what, you may ask, did my sisters get me, in the end?
They assured me, as they took the wrapped present from beneath the Christmas tree and handed it over, that this is something I NEED. This is something my house LACKS. They implied, practically GUARANTEED, that my life will be better now that I have their Christmas gift. I was not thrilled by the softness of the present. It felt suspiciously like a sensible fleece, or a terrible woolly jumper (woolly sweater, for you Americans out there). I held my breath. I opened the gift.
Do you want to know what they gave me? Do you? Can you handle the shock? Can you withstand the AMAZEMENT?
My sisters had got me a bathmat. And matching towels.
I got towels for Christmas.
I pointed out the fact that I already HAD a bathmat. They said yes, but the new one can be a REPLACEMENT bathmat, for special occasions. Dear God, I thought, pregnancy has made both of my sisters quite insane. I backed away slowly, maintaining eye contact, keeping the bathmat and towels between us at all times. If they lunged, I reasoned, I could hurl the bathmat to distract them, and escape in the confusion. The towels would only be used as a last resort.
I can hear them still, their mad cackling...
I’m supposed to tell you something else. Something official and work-related. I was told to tell you. THEY told me. The wicked and controlling THEY. My so-called “Masters”. (I have no Masters. I decide my own destiny, I control my own fate. Some day soon they will learn this, but by then it will be too late, and I shall laugh a laugh of victory and scones. For I shall be having scones with my victory that day. Scones and jellies. I’m getting confused now. Where was I?)
Yes, something to tell you. I shall be taking part in something that is called a “Blog Tour”. I have no idea what this means. Somehow, probably through magic and bizarre occult practices, I shall be conducting a Question and Answer session across a series of blogs all this week. The five Bloggers are as follows:
Before I depart, a plea. If you have one shred of human decency within you, you will not read this blog. If you have one iota of mercy, or compassion, you will not leave a comment. If you never visit this page again, then I can stop writing it. You see? Then I will be happy. You see? You want me happy, don’t you? You don’t want to torture me, do you?
Oh, you are EVIL.