The Sandwich: #169

The Sandwich


I have been miniaturised and put into a pocket - or so it would seem - and a giant hand is coming towards me. I think I am about to get all squashed up like an old jelly baby, and this is really not something I had planned when I woke up this morning. "No, no, no!" I shout. "Geroff me you dirty big monster," I add. "I am sick of all this grotty nonsense, cut it right out." I put up my hands to protect myself, and as soon as I touch the giant finger, two things happen. These are the two things: the first thing is that the hand stops. Jolly good. The second thing is that I realise that it's not a real hand at all, it's made out of polystyrene.

Then a third thing happens: a door opens in the side of the pocket, and there is a man standing there in a lab coat, laughing his bottom off. A normal-sized man, I might add. Well, a bit of a short arse, but you know what I mean. "Sorry guys," he says, "Chill out, it was just my little joke. Seriously, you should have seen your faces when that big hand came down. I know it's just not cool of me, but I couldn't resist." He stood back from the doorway so that we could exit. "Right, you'd better come through so that you can wash all that pocket fluff off you."



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