Disposing of the evidence

Midnight saw me stumbling suspiciously around the stygian depths of our garden: a torch in one hand and a corpse in the other.

The things I do for my children!

The Lovely Melanie refused to go near Brownie the gerbil’s dead body; it was up to yours truly when I got home from seeing Dredd at the cinema (which is a bloody good film, by the way – it absolutely does justice (ha ha!) to the comic book character!) to remove the body.

So, at midnight, there was I, spade in one hand, Brownie in the other, and torch in my mouth, looking very very dodgy indeed…

When we got up this morning the girls asked where she was (“At the bottom of the garden, next to where Glitter is buried“) and went out to find her.  I was the only one who seemed slightly sad about Brownie’s demise – they were faintly disappointed not to find her dead body just lying there.

I didn’t just throw her outside,” I protested.  “She’s buried in the ground – that’s what you do with dead bodies!



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