My Return

Readers, I am returned. I have had a most rare ordeal, past the wit of man to say what ordeal it was. Man is but a deranged goon, officially diagnosed as suffering from a staggering array of visual and auditory hallucinations, paranoid delusions with schizophrenic tendencies, and comorbid manic-depression, if he go about to expound this ordeal. Nevertheless, I shall relate my recent tribulations.

These past 3 weeks have been dark ones. Bossert succeeded in abducting me through fiendish cunning and the resourcefulness of his disguise. He gained access to my home by pretending to be a jovial door-to-door seller of kitchen paraphenalia from the Pampered Chef range. No sooner had I agreed to watch a demonstration of a mechanised yam shaker than Bossert exposed himself. He remains a schoolboy in appearance, though ever so many years have elapsed since he was coined the 'schoolboy cubemaster'. Over the weeks that were to follow, I came to the conclusion that Bossert had somehow aquired the secret of eternal youth - I suppose that once one has solved the Cube, all is easy. The trickster uttered softly into my ear the following stanza (for you must know that he speaks only in rhyme):

I'll brutalize you, dear Horton Carew,
If you fail to obey my every command,
So listen to me, or your fat head will be
Introduced with some force to your rank prostrate gland.

The recourse to such alarming and indecent imagery drove Bossert's threat firmly home and I will admit with no shame that I quavered and readily agreed to do whatever he might demand of me. The schoolboy cubemaster continued:

You'll come with me, o'er the rolling sea,
To the land of burgers and fries,
And there for a week, you cretinous freak,
You'll entertain yanks with your agonized cries.

By the 'land of burgers and fries', I naturally assumed he meant Aberdeen but I was later to find that he meant to take me to America (The United States).

And here, dear reader, I must break. I will tell more shortly but at present I am too weak and swollen to continue my narrative. I must retire to bed with a hot blackcurrant drink.