Sunday, 12 July 2015

An Almighty Crack

Diary of Lt. Arnold Scrote; Thursday the 13th of May 1897.
I have travelled to the many corners of this globe of ours. I have discovered and oppressed many a new species of tribal savages, come face to face with the terrifying Nabnab Shrew of Peru, and slept under the stars with only a short nosed Startled Snark for company.
But the most loathsome, disgusting, and dare I say evil creature I have ever encountered happened earlier today as I explored a part of this great country of ours. I was sand sifting up on the Fylde Coast when I happened upon an almighty crack found down the front of her Majesty's Promenade.

Having been once described by the Rev. Dan Brown as “the world famous explorer”, I wasted no time in enslaving a party of the local savages and headed down deep into this moist opening. The smell of dead sea creatures hung in the air like a think sponge cake made by my house keeper, Mrs Crotching.
Armed only with torches and guns, we soldiered on for the love of England. It was deep within the bowels of this crevice that I first laid eyes upon the odious beast. Its large slimy body heaved with every breath. Two disc like eyes, dead of humanity, pieced my soul as it turned its attention to my exploring party.
Madness took hold of the savages. In fear they fled back towards the surface. I too had a moment where I almost forgot I was a Gentleman and had to dig deep within my Englishness to stop myself fleeing.
The beast, resembling a monstrous mollusc with grey slimy skin and a lipless mouth from which it would produce a huge tongue that excreted more ooze that dripped down over its body; this monstrous oyster, this meglodon mollusc, this ‘Oyston’, putrid in appearance and hideous in its existence.
              [Image removed as it might cause revulsion and terror in all who look upon it.]
I could no longer take being in the company of such arrogance and made my way back to the surface. As I looked back at the cavern I could only hope the creature did not have intelligence enough to follow me. I fear that should the ‘Oyston’ make it to the surface it would only bring suffering to many a loyal subject.
Tomorrow I shall return to the crack and use explosives to seal it. I cannot see how such a thing would have already escaped. So as of tomorrow, ‘Victoria’s Crevice’ will be renamed as the ‘Boom Field’. May God have mercy on its soul.
Colin Davies