Sunday, 8 May 2016

May stories 2016/08

Piccalilli Painless

I tried to kill myself. Tried and failed, obviously, else I wouldn't be here to talk about it but it wasn't through somebody having a feeling and checking up on me, or a friend interrupting me when I was about to step off the chair with a rope around my neck or a random stranger yanking me from the edge of the platform as the 12:32 Portsmouth Express thunders past. What saved me – though I'm not certain 'saved' is the operative word here – was a red-horned demon with a cheese and piccalilli sandwich.

His name was Kevin.

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