The spectre's prophecy is vindicated! Early this morning I heard a scuffling at the front door, which I took to be a stray labrador or an injured milkman, and so I ignored it.
The strange muffled shuffling continued for upwards of 25 minutes, so I shouted "Who is there? A fiend?" By way of response, a whooping holler echoed through the rooms that put me in mind of a dying elk.
My tastebuds seemed to discern butterbeans, though I had eaten none for months...I knew that something supernatural was afoot. I steadied my nerves and prepared to open the front door dramatically, in the fashion of Peter Cushing or Nanette Newman.
Doing so, the door swung back and caught me a right ding in the ankle. Shocked, I stepped backwards onto a block of Lego, left there, I assume, by some kind of mischievous nephew. The spectre was correct - my ankle is now swollen. Cursed! I am cursed!
On the doorstep, I beheld a homunculus. I have invited it in and given it some pepper and run it a bath. There it sits still, relaxing in my Radox Aromatic range of bath products.
I cannot help but feel uneasy about this visitor. More later.
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