Reams and reams of pasture later, Erasmus will go out with his Police
Master Notebook and pore over the cynicism of such a horrific act. He has never
been more than quite a detective before so he believes that this is a good and
shiny way to start the proceedings. Little does he know that the culprit is
neither in the city nor in the galaxy, it was an Act of God but maybe without
the capital letter, nothing has really been confirmed yet. The rings are in
fact finely-spun yarn that we introduce to the public at large to keep them
entertained for a brief and soluble period of time. It works for the most part
but we have seen some incidents. Erasmus, on the other hand, not precisely.
Erasmus is a man with a mission and that mission often takes the form of a bad
sense of strategy. He will literally punch through every obstacle unless he
needs to use his foot to address the matter. His head is coming off spirit by
spirit but it retains its gummy texture, perhaps gaining more of a sickly
sheen. He is a pustule that we can thank Mr Thank for. And Neil, though Neil is
only a brother and a half-brother at that.
Erasmus nicked the Police Master Notebook when he believed we were in
the kitchen attending to the turkey basting. We were, in fact, trying out the
stuffing as a potential explosive which it did, spectacularly. The jammy git
not only took the notebook, he also nabbed a corner of the recipe card as well,
leaving behind a caddish number for all the unsuspecting and unbelievably randy
women and even some of the finger-licking dudes as well. All Erasmus left behind
his a cyclical trail of whey and urine. We are pursuing him like we do any
vigilante, with a clamour of afterwards and a few one-two-one-twos to keep us
going in between. At least the offence has not been taken by Neil, he has
helped us from the day that followed the day go. He will die, we believe,
before we can get him to the ladies room. It is with great pleasure that we
state that this troublesome faux detective will end his investigation within a
humble women’s toilets. He will no doubt cry when he notices a distinct lack of
men with skulls tattooed on their faces.
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