Why did I have to bl**dy well go and leave the earth.
OK – I got scared, scared of how desperate, broken I felt.
Last thing I remember thinking about myself was: ‘Oh for gods sake ‘Grow Up.”
Some eejit was being way out of order, throwing punches at me, and I got in a rage – I mean the eejit was doing my head in. So, I wasn’t being grown up! Don’t believe I’ve ever grown up.
And now I don’t know where I am, which is ironic, all my life I’ve never known where I am, so what’s my problem here!
Am I dead? Is this hell? This is one weird world.
Wading through stuff – not water – too sticky. It’s purple. Everything is bl**dy purple.
Not that I’ve got anything against purple.
Each to his own!
But hey, I’m a 21st Century 30 year old bloke. Wouldn’t wear it. Wouldn’t do the hair in it! Wouldn’t paint my bench in it.
I’m stuck, up to my armpits in this stinky, purply stuff, and now – the equally stinky purple stones are talking. To ME!
One of these talking stone nut jobs has transmogrified, morphed into a camp, fop type being. It’s covered, head to toe, reptile like, in shiny gaudy scales. Got a kind of human misshapen body, a human-ish head and something resembling a faceted face. Long fingers, fascinatingly like claws, long nails adorned with popinjay colours and bejewelled rings on each finger!
It makes a foppish sweeping movement with its hands and arms and bows to me – I think: eff off you tart.
It’s clicking its gaudy claw fingers, croaking in a wide spread slimy voice: “Good day, dearie, come to find yourself have you!”
Sally Stubbs
Mungrisdale Writers 