Carrying sand in a sieve

Vernon had been refused permission onto the Ark.

Vernon had been refused permission onto the Ark.

Section 63 is nearly all at sea

Vernon caught himself looking out the window to check that yesterday’s rains had stopped. He’d been refused admission to the Ark, and because the dream still haunted him, his thoughts had been distinctly ‘uffish’ since. Sorting out his panicked deliberations about whether he should stay or go, and how he’d make his escape, was akin to carrying sand in a sieve. The details kept escaping him, and even as they did so, they somehow obscured his vision.

Vernon stroked his beard and indulged in a brief daydream. In his mind’s eye he pictured Jean Luc greeting him on steps of the Old Baily. Chortling in his joy at finding that the Nonsense Filter worked… and was theirs legally. His friends words rang out clearly;

Jibber? Jabber? What?

Jibber? Jabber? What?

And hast thou slain the Jabberwock?

Come to my arms, my beamish boy!

O frabjous day! Callooh! Callay!

Vernon looked about him suddenly. He was alone. The students had all gone to lunch the slimy ‘toves’.

Check out the Nonsense Filter


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