Midsomer Murders


Among other public buildings in a certain town, which for many reasons it will be prudent to refrain from mentioning, and to which I will assign no fictitious name, there is one anciently common to most of the towns, great or small: to wit, a workhouse; plus in this workhouse was born; on a day number and date which I need not trouble myself to repeat, inasmuch as it can be of no possible consequence to the reader, in this stage of the business at all events; the item of mortality whose name is prefixed to the head of this chapter. For a long time after it was ushered into this world of sorrow and trouble, by the parish surgeon, it remained a matter of considerable doubt whether the child would survive to bear any name at all; in which case it is somewhat more than merely probable that these memoirs would never have appeared; or, if they had, that being comprised within a couple of pages, they would have possessed the inestimable merit of being the most concise and faithful specimen of biography, extant in the literature of any age or country. Although I am not disposed to maintain that the being born in a workhouse, is in itself the most fortunate and enviable circumstance that can possibly befall a human being, I do mean to say that in this particular instance, it was the best thing for Oliver Twist that could by possibility have occurred. The fact is, that there was considerable difficulty to inducing Oliver to take upon himself the office for respiration,-a troublesome practice, but one which custom has rendered necessary to our easy existence; and for some time he lay gasping on a little flock mattress, rather unequally poised between this world and the next: its balance being decidedly in favour of the latter. Now, if, during this brief period, Oliver had been surrounded by careful grandmothers, anxious aunts, experienced nurses, and doctors of profound wisdom, he would most inevitably and indubitably have been killed in no time at all.
and they descended from their craft,
just four of them not young nor old,
but seemingly ageless immune,
and fearless of all that surrounds,
and oblivious to the bright sunlight,
and unconscious to all jungle sounds,
that emanated from out of the tree line,
all around their plateau quite bare,
and no one knew that they existed,
no one dreamt that were there,
over a week or two, these beings,
collected gorillas and chimps far and wide,
implanted embryos into the rib marrow,
from neat fine holes made in their sides,
and once the creation had taken,
once the new race had been born,
there came a day in the month of may,
they were gone on the break of the dawn,
and they monitored new beings,
from this place where we now stand,
they called creations homo sapiens,
yes they created first ever man,
and they hid all their super knowledge,
here and under places where in time,
great edifices would be built,
at the crossings of many lay lines.
the seven wonders of the ancient world,
hide wonders much more wonderful below,
which man should have acquired by now,
but instead was for now not to know,
for we will watch his progress move along,
from stone age to bronze medieval,
man started to cant away from being good,
in favour of becoming selfish and evil,
eventually the super beings grew tired,
of watching their superb plans go awry,
so they set up a global nuclear war,
and death rained down from the skies,
Gobithay and Nevadica were eradicated,
the two greatest super cities that existed,

What Happens Now

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