Hell-o there me shipmates. Hope all is well. It's here. The one time of year when it's okay to have masked people banging on your door asking for stuff. Here at Sinking Sip, we like to treat rather than trick, so we present to you - in timely fashion - the conclusion to our fiendish fable revolving around the ghoulish season.
Remember folks, if you feel that a strange person offering drinks may result in your being transformed into a ferocious, snarling beast of the night, politely decline and keep your thumb over the rim - as it were.
Enjoy...
I need to run away I will return tomorrow
ReplyDeleteI'm still trying to figure out why that ending made me laugh. (??)
ReplyDeleteIt's probably because the professor filled all the balloons with Nitrous Oxide instead of helium....
DeleteI have never had a Halloween visitor turn up as a Professor, it seems like a good idea. Maybe If I sell Professor Brian Cox masks I will make a few pounds.
ReplyDeleteI think that was a happy ending . . . . . . as long as you are not called Harold
Poor Harold. It's not clear from this story, but Harold had just found out that he was to appear on one of those Postcode Lottery Adverts and would be given an over sized cheque for £25,000 and all he had to do was look a bit shocked.
DeleteHis gout had all but cleared up and this was the first night out he had been able to attend in months.
Funny how things work out sometimes.
I have an interesting story about someone called Harold I must write it on my blog one day. . . . . Everyone in our village has the same postcode so if they did the lottery ad here it would involve a lot of fighting
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