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Tuesday, November 25, 2003
^The Fat Pasty-Faced Gentleman Eats London
The streets are cold in London so early in the morning or so late at night, so forlorn and empty as fog rolls up and around, slithering like misty snakes around buildings and street corners. The cop walks his beat, the snakes making way for his tap-tap as he lumbers down the lonely street, but they slip in behind his back, and follow him close behind. The streets are wet for it has been raining and they reflect the dim light of the surviving street lamps like the back of a melanistic asp. Down dark alleyways creatures move and stir, restlessly but almost silently as they wait for the perfect prey to come along. Muscles creak with anticipation and longing for they have not feasted since last night.
As the hours silently pass by, ticking off the minutes, several small wails are cut short but they go largely unnoticed, and as the darkness begins to fade, the creatures will go crawling back to their holes for another blinding day to await yet another sinister night.
But that morning something was wrong as the virgin population began to stir. Not that any of their species could feel the difference. That morning in 1802 like every other morning, England was up and ready for work by 6 am. They had done it every morning for thirty or more years and there was not reason to suspect that any change had taken place.
But the creatures knew, they knew that one was missing and that one was still at large.
A fat, pasty-faced man, with a long haggard eyes that drooped and bags under them that almost reached his nostrils, stepped out onto the street, shaking himself violently for a second, to rid the suit of a night of dust which it had collected and then moved on.
He licked his lips excitedly, looking in the window of a bakery, not at the cakes but at the baker and he entered the store decidedly. The baker looked suspiciously at this strange looking man but soon thought no more of it.
And that was only one. All over London that day, headless people were found and a fat, pasty-faced gentleman was heard of near each one. The population was outraged that such and indignity should be afflicted on their species. All over the city, fat gentlemen were arrested, rich gentlemen, poor gentlemen, lawyer gentlemen, doctor gentlemen, questionable gentlemen and sickly gentlemen. It caused quite a ruckus that day in 1802 but then night fell, and everyone wnet home to dinner and bed, sleepily forgetting all that had befallen their population during the day.
As for the fat pasty-faced gentlemen, he returned home to receive a sound scolding from his wife, who wanted him to stay home and not go gallavanting about like some monster hero but he decided that he had had quite enough adventure for a while. He had stuffed himself so full that he was quite sick afterwards and couldn't eat anything for a week. Anyway, he decidede, he much preferred the taste of errand boys and bewildered cops to the taste of bakers and the like.
© 2003 All rights reserved MJ Jackson
No part of this article may be reproduced without the permission of the author.
As the hours silently pass by, ticking off the minutes, several small wails are cut short but they go largely unnoticed, and as the darkness begins to fade, the creatures will go crawling back to their holes for another blinding day to await yet another sinister night.
But that morning something was wrong as the virgin population began to stir. Not that any of their species could feel the difference. That morning in 1802 like every other morning, England was up and ready for work by 6 am. They had done it every morning for thirty or more years and there was not reason to suspect that any change had taken place.
But the creatures knew, they knew that one was missing and that one was still at large.
A fat, pasty-faced man, with a long haggard eyes that drooped and bags under them that almost reached his nostrils, stepped out onto the street, shaking himself violently for a second, to rid the suit of a night of dust which it had collected and then moved on.
He licked his lips excitedly, looking in the window of a bakery, not at the cakes but at the baker and he entered the store decidedly. The baker looked suspiciously at this strange looking man but soon thought no more of it.
And that was only one. All over London that day, headless people were found and a fat, pasty-faced gentleman was heard of near each one. The population was outraged that such and indignity should be afflicted on their species. All over the city, fat gentlemen were arrested, rich gentlemen, poor gentlemen, lawyer gentlemen, doctor gentlemen, questionable gentlemen and sickly gentlemen. It caused quite a ruckus that day in 1802 but then night fell, and everyone wnet home to dinner and bed, sleepily forgetting all that had befallen their population during the day.
As for the fat pasty-faced gentlemen, he returned home to receive a sound scolding from his wife, who wanted him to stay home and not go gallavanting about like some monster hero but he decided that he had had quite enough adventure for a while. He had stuffed himself so full that he was quite sick afterwards and couldn't eat anything for a week. Anyway, he decidede, he much preferred the taste of errand boys and bewildered cops to the taste of bakers and the like.
© 2003 All rights reserved MJ Jackson
No part of this article may be reproduced without the permission of the author.
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