Cuttings From A Non-Fiction Manuscript
"Needless to say, in the days that passed since acknowledging there could well be a nemesis out there attempting to thwart me in my quest, I spent much of my time on my toes. I took time to look down alleyways and stared at those who were under 4ft tall to see if they were concealing an ice-beam. I couldn't honestly say there had been too many. A lot of children with calippo ice lollies, but none who looked like they'd be willing to do anything with their coloured ice-beam other than lick it.
The sheer fact that I couldn't help but perform a double-take whenever I saw someone who I felt was unusually short was making me feel incredibly uncomfortable. I know it sounds stupid to say it, but if someone tells you that there is a midget with an ice-beam out there trying to kill you, you can't just shrug your shoulders and forget about it. If you see someone who looks like that you immediately start thinking. Worrying even. That is a fact. I'm not short-ist and I am certainly not ice-beam-ist, so please don't go judging me. It is just a natural reaction. If I tell you that there is a guy out there who has one arm shorter than the other, is carrying a blue box and is stalking you, well, I guarantee you that if you see someone matching that description you will think back to this and wonder. That doesn't make you arm-ist nor does it make you blue box-ist. It's just a natural reaction. You're not going to thank me for saying this. You'll be hoping that you will soon forget about it which is exactly the same way I felt about midgets carrying ice-beams. Annoyingly though as soon as I tried to forget about them I automatically thought of them. I'm thinking about them right now. It's a vicious circle really. One I think I could need professional help trying to crack."
I think extraordinary is the only word to describe that. That, and appallingly written. I've written better text messages. Drunk.
