Greetings, felicitations, and fluffy dice.

GREETINGS, FELICITATIONS AND FLUFFY DICE

Now, you probably don’t know me, so let me introduce myself. My name is Jack Rowlands, although people tend to call me Mad Jack. I can’t think why.

Anyway, for my day job, I am an Alley Cat. What’s an Alley Cat, I hear you ask? In a very strange voice, I might add. Well, the Alley Cats are the Bomb Disposal team of National Security Command. So, if you’ve got something that you think is going to blow up, just give me a ring.

It’s a real man’s life in the Alley Cats. We do real man things, like weight training, marathon running, knitting, and highland dancing. And don’t believe everything you hear. One ballet lesson, ONE. Do they let you forget? Do they drumsticks! So, by way of relaxation, I entertain the team with a few of my hilarious stories. Well, I think they’re funny.

In among my own totally awesome original stories are ones based on tales I have heard. Some of them could be described as traditional. My grandfather would have heard them. Others are more modern. Now, I have tried to establish the copyright of these stories, but I have not been able to trace the authors. If you feel I have breached your copyright, first know that it was not deliberate, and accept my apology. Secondly, please let me know, and I will be happy to amend future issues. Now, is that or is that not fair?

Wednesday 16 August 2017

Putting Life Back Into Your Clothes

No one really knows how it started. The first people to see anything strange were Doug and Jane Hargreaves. They thought they had spotted a group of rats scurrying along the road. On closer inspection, the rats proved to be socks, somehow animated, and propelling themselves like earthworms.

Later that day, a pair of trousers walked themselves down the high street, and several shirts flapped and glided through the air.

Naturally, the call went out to Doctor Roxy Muller and Danny Scurry. Muller checked the socks for radiation and chemicals, while Scurry plotted the reported incidents.

“What do you make of it, Roxy? Science or magic?”

“I don't believe in magic, and you know it.”

“Well, what's your best guess?”

“And I don’t guess. I go by the evidence.”

“OK, what does the evidence tell you?”

 “It's a substance called Nescio. It's actually made up of microbes that are supposed to digest dirt in clothes, and is then washed out. Somehow, these have formed a kind of hive mind and control the clothing, apparently bringing it to life.”

“We have to stop it.”

“We can. A mixture of these three chemicals sprayed onto the clothing will disrupt the hive mind and kill the Nescio.”

Half an hour later, Muller, Scurry and several other agents were going through town with spray packs. The clothing was everywhere; suits, dresses, shirts, underwear all creeping or walking or flying. A blast of the spray, and they became still. Just then, a call came in. There was trouble at the local monastery.

The team burst through the doors to see robes, cassocks and albs swirling around. Scurry sprayed them. Nothing happened. Muller joined in. Still nothing happened. It took all the agents to spray every every drop of chemical for the clothes to fall to the ground.

“Why were these so difficult, Roxy?”

“I guess old habits die hard.”

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