T’was a breath of wind and before you knew it I had forgotten to write anything; you trying being me, you try to deal with the modern world. I try and keep my head down. Thank GOD for Rochelle who seems to keep everything under control, at least in this corner of the internet, which is a fine corner. So sorry for missing last week, but I’ll give this week a go, 100 words on the following picture taken by, or at least owned by Sandra Crook, good shot. Looking for a beginning, a middle and an end, best of luck.

On My Marks…

Get Set…

GO!!!

It’s been foretold that after the apocalpse few organisms or indeed puppets would survive; Cockroaches, Rats, Tardigrades and potentially Punch and Judy.

The “Scientists” were apparently “A million percent” sure that the puppets and puppeteer would survive the blast and were there to entertain us as our toes and more important appendages gradually shrivelled and died. The puppet show, supposedly easing us into an acceptance of airborne chemical death.

The non-strategic nuclear warheads fell on Crackington-Haven, humourous survival of the human-race fell at the feet of Geoffrey Bumhatch, his Mr Pinch and a toothless Crocodile.

Patiently they awaited the crowds.

There we go, 100 words of nonsense regarding the future of a nuclear winter decimated human race. Enjoy.