It was a dark, stormy morning. Really. It was already about 10AM, but scary-looking mandibles beat to death every puny ray of sunlight that even presumed to enter the troposphere. Not that this bothered me. Sure, I'm only three feet tall with little muscle mass to speak of, but I'm never afraid of walking alone when I carry my trusty editor. But anyway, back to my story. There I was, walking down a grimy back alley in the dark of morning (yes, this is what I do for fun) when an unidentifiable hairy creature leaped out of the shadows and ran. I was so shocked that I passed out. (I have a delicate constitution, okay?) Well, apparently, whilst I was unconscious, this creature had taken me to Liverpool. It had laid me out on the ground, and after much looking and projecting on its part, I finally came to. Immediately, I wished I hadn't. The pain that racked my body and mind was unbearably Bolshevik. But the creature apparently wasn't as unfriendly as I'd thought, be
cause it kindly gave me some aspirin... Flash forward twenty years. As you can see, even the most unfortunate-seeming encounters can lead to wonderful things - the way my morning of fear led to my blissful marriage of seventeen years. Today's our anniversary, in fact. And we plan on celebrating again.