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Disembodied Beastie
Saturday, October 8th, 2005 06:01 pmI am going to have to start paying closer attention to things.
Earlier this afternoon, before I decided to waste 90 minutes of my life watching England attempt to play football against Austria (are we sedating our players or something...?), I decided to listen to the radio for a while before digging out a few CDs for a listen.
Imagine my horror when, deep in thought (about pretty much nothing, it has to be admitted), I am accosted by a disembodied voice. This followed rapidly by the realisation that Beastie's head was on the floor in the corner of my bedroom door, talking to me. I am not ashamed to admit that I yelped in momentary fright. The great lumbering lump had come part way up the stairs to say something, but instead of just climbing the extra five or six steps, had decided to curl his head round the door jamb and talk. From my point of view all that was visible was the head lying sideways on the floor. I might not sleep tonight.
Trust me when I say the entire concept is worrying.
On the plus side, I now have my new TARDIS. That's seven and a half in my collection now, although we had a philosophical debate last night about whether it is possible to have half of something that is dimensionally transcendent. This meant that the debate became more of a loud but cheery drunken squabble about whether I own seven or eight TARDISes.
They're mine; there're seven and a half. So there.
Earlier this afternoon, before I decided to waste 90 minutes of my life watching England attempt to play football against Austria (are we sedating our players or something...?), I decided to listen to the radio for a while before digging out a few CDs for a listen.
Imagine my horror when, deep in thought (about pretty much nothing, it has to be admitted), I am accosted by a disembodied voice. This followed rapidly by the realisation that Beastie's head was on the floor in the corner of my bedroom door, talking to me. I am not ashamed to admit that I yelped in momentary fright. The great lumbering lump had come part way up the stairs to say something, but instead of just climbing the extra five or six steps, had decided to curl his head round the door jamb and talk. From my point of view all that was visible was the head lying sideways on the floor. I might not sleep tonight.
Trust me when I say the entire concept is worrying.
On the plus side, I now have my new TARDIS. That's seven and a half in my collection now, although we had a philosophical debate last night about whether it is possible to have half of something that is dimensionally transcendent. This meant that the debate became more of a loud but cheery drunken squabble about whether I own seven or eight TARDISes.
They're mine; there're seven and a half. So there.