PostcardS

Wandering as lonely as a lead balloon among the Hills of Temporary Oblivion, not a sodding daffodil in sight, I came across the tutelary spirit of the region, the Solid Marble Maiden. I introduced myself very politely and asked her for political asylum. She was much amused and not a little bemused, but she was also very polite and quite sweet about the strange request and said she’ll look into it, since she’s not sure she can grant such a boon on a) short notice and b) to a perfect stranger with no more recommendation than the company of a small snake and no local sponsorship whatsoever. I said I’d have a word with the local Shoggoths, or even the Ineffable Shub-Niggurath. At the mention of the Ineffable One, miss Solid Marble’s eye’s brightened and immediately said that my application was very likely to be successful, as she has tea & cakes regularly with the tremendously fertile Black Goat of the Woods With Far Too Many Churumbeles. Awaiting the verdict, I remain, yours sincerely, despondent, semi-desperate and as stubborn as ever.