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Christopher Antony Meade (Laughing a lot)
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Date Posted: 03:59:28 09/05/14 Fri

Somethingís burning and itís not the toast this time. Breakfast time was always accompanied with the smell of burning bread since I bought that cheap toaster. The bread usually looked like it had come from darkest Africa, so black was it and my wife was never done complaining about the burnt scrapings clogging up the sink.
ďWhy donít you buy a decent toaster you mean old drunkĒ was her constant refrain. I didnít care. The money I had saved, by buying utensils from the bargain shops, bought me many a bottle of Jack Daniels. Why would I care about a few lousy crumbs in the sink? I never cleaned it anyway. That was womanís work. My idea of contributing to the household economy was to spend as much as I could on booze. Where the money came from didnít bother me too much either. If my small private pension wasnít enough to keep me permanently sozzled, then I could always help myself to the electricity money. For some reason, best known to herself, the missus always kept the money for the electric, gas etc in a tin beneath the sink. Not the brightest of things to do when living with an alcoholic. She didnít stop doing it, even though she must have known that it frequently ended up in the off-licence till, rather than with the utility companies. In my moments of sobriety, I considered that she thought it worthwhile to sacrifice the money, rather than put up with the hassle of dealing with an aggressive drunk with no drink. It certainly suited me, whatever the reason.
But something is burning and itís very painful. Thereís a small blue flame coming from my left leg. Oh God! Itís spreading. Itís in both legs now and I canít put it out. I can feel like there is a raging furnace in my stomach and the flames are starting to burst out from between my agonising ribs. Iím screaming now, but not for long Iím guessing. The flames are rushing up my throat and out my mouth and nose. My eyes are starting to melt from the inside out and my ears are about to explode. I can see my wife through my liquefying orbs and sheís smiling and saying something. What is she saying? I feel that my skull is about to explode and my boiling brain will be just steam and burning fat in about twenty seconds. I can just about hear her words penetrating my melting eardrums.
ďI knew, if you kept drinking, that spontaneous combustion would get your useless carcase in the end. It was worth it to leave that money under the sink. This is your taster for Hell.Ē
If you enjoyed that, you are bound to enjoy this very funny ebook.
ďThe Zombie, the Cat, and Barack ObamaĒ Critically acclaimed and available from all Amazon sites.

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