Tick Tick Off

So here I am clutching two ticks wrapped in a tissue, and I don't know what to do. I'm not dressed respectably enough to leave the bedroom, since I've just got out of bed.

I can't think how I can put more clothes on without risk. If I put the tissue down, the ticks will fight their way out and escape into the bedroom. And then they might go anywhere they like. I could pull on some clothes with one hand, but I need to give those ticks my full attention.

That's why I'm pacing up and down.

Soon I will be rescued, when Allan gets out of the shower. He will take the tissue-wrapped ticks to Colin in his office. Colin will look at the ticks and remark that they are very small. He will also remark that it is lucky for me that they are whole, as I am less likely to be infected by broken tick parts left behind. He will then proceed to kill them by stabbing at them with a biro.

At the time I felt this was a happy outcome. But having reached a state of equanimity I am beginning to feel sorry for the ticks. Tomorrow I will make it up to them.

One Kafka Too Many

It looks like there's a race to be the next writer published in Velosophy.

And catastrophically, the main contenders are both Kafka.

To clarify, one is the real Kafka; the other Kafka is Pliny the Elder. Who will be the first to get his story to the office of the editors?

Let's look over the shoulders of the two would-be Kafkas, and see how they're getting on.

Here is the real Kafka hunched over his exercise book writing feverishly. He is continually being interrupted by members of his family walking back and forth between the bedroom and the dining room, for his bedroom is just a passage, with a bed in it. So what is he writing?

........K carried the tiny bicycle under his arm all the way to the Post Office, one pedal jammed uncomfortably against his ribs. He entered, to be confronted by a scowling woman behind the counter. It's forbidden to bring a bicycle into the Post Office, she said, waving a sheet..........

Mmm. Hard to tell where he's up to, but it seems to be somewhere in the middle. Let's go and spy on Pliny the Elder.

Here is Pliny the Elder hunched over his Notebook, typing away like the clappers, stopping occasionally to refer to a library book, " Franz Kafka: A Biographical Essay". It's not the type of library book, he usually reads. Perhaps it was borrowed from the library by somebody else. Let's see what he's writing.

.......a giant beetle, or cockroach or, as K originally referred to it, Ungeziefer. The actual measurements of the creature were not given, therefore it was not possible to ascertain whether it was likely to have been squashed when ridden over by an ordinary-sized bicycle, or whether it had to be something larger. However, K concluded........

Concluded! Pliny's going well! He could turn out to be the faster Kafka.