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Friday, September 25

In which I am a fugitive. (again)

Seeing the constables advancing and picturing myself in a tiny cramped Manhattan jail, I took the liberty of the ensuing confusion to flee. After pushing past several grandmothers who shrieked and beat at me with their fists, I managed to lose myself in the crowd.

Having put what I thought was a reasonable distance between myself and the police, I staggered into a dark alleyway, that smelt strongly of cabbage and boiled socks. I leaned against a wall, breathing heavily. (Despite my many attributes, athletics are not my strong point)

I heaved a heavy sigh and reached into my jacket pocket for my flask, which was dangerously close to empty. I swigged as much as I could and then carefully placed my trusty old friend back into my jacket, then managed to dodge a bucket of water that was tossed from one of the windows.

"Excuse me, I happen to be thinking down here, could you cease that activity?" This was met with another waterfall and what sounded like cursing in an unfamilar language. Well, indeed. I huffily left the alleyway in search of a better place for Phineas Matova, Man About Town to contemplate his current circumstances.

After walking for what seemed like hours, I happened upon a large and pleasant park. I was growing weary and there was a rather large, leafy shrub nearby. After checking for hobos, I crawled under it and settled in for a good, long nap.

1 comment:

Rhianon Jameson said...

Huzzah, Phineas is back!