Revitalised somewhat by the single slice of ham fed down the side of the hatch by Chris, abandoned by Ian and his selfish demands for ham, and fearing that I may be losing what slim grasp of reality I had left, I steeled myself and set off back into the bowels of the land behind the hatch…
I trekked for a day, back past the Bell Tower and into the former Great Hall, the whole time flanked by My Cockall and his band of merry idiots trying to sell me pointless, inexplicably edible household products at every opportunity. Frankly I’d had enough and was weak from a diet of tasty hasty paste, so set up camp in the Loosh Vestibule for the night, the band of idiots doing similar at the opposite side of the hall in the Uptight Antechamber.
The next morning I awoke early, jolted into life by the sound of the zorses mating in the formal gardens. Mr Cockall and his crew, must have been used to the sound of rutting zorses, and were all still asleep. Sensing my chance I slipped down the passageway hidden in the corner of the Great Hall that lead down to the under-croft.
After picking through the gloom by burning EFFY McJEEFY poems to light my way, I got a glimpse of light in the distance. Natural light. This couldn’t be right, the land behind the hatch was sealed up. I pushed on, my eyes squinting into the bright light. Then it hit me, it was the back door. The one we asked Ian to seal up whilst Chris and I installed the Character Hatch at the front entrance.
Not only was the back door open, but the key for the lock was on the INSIDE. The whimsical bastards have had free reign to pop in and out as they’ve seen fit. Luckily most of them seem to have been distracted by the lovemaking of the zorse population, but it explains the occasional appearance of Pete Doherty in popular culture over the last few years.
Needless to say I locked the door (from the outside) and caught the 163 bus back into town, casually chucking the key into a ditch along the way. Our world is safe for now, but who knows how many of them may have escaped.