The Prologue amned rain - Just my luck!" In my best bib and tucker I'm diving from theatre to cab. "Get Lost!" I'm ignoring the plaintive imploring Of beggars in camouflage drab. One vagrant persists, My brush-off resists: "You're one of them authors!" he shrills. Transfixed in his gaze - "You knew me," he says Before you got graces and frills!" 
I can't say for sure Why I humoured him more But I motioned us nevertheless To a club I frequent Where the doorperson leant On him hard. "Leave him be - he's my guest!" Page 1
|
"Iss your funeral..." she cried, "But that pig stays outside!" It was true! Stranger yet I'd not thought of. Alongside him ran A small pig, black and tan, Snuffle-nosed - but intelligent, sort of.  I still couldn't place Nor the time, nor the face Nor the reason my interest sparked. His motive? Not robbery. Inverted snobbery? Pouring a drink, I remarked "All right, I'm intrigued - But if you're in league With some villains, you got the wrong bloke. So, say what this means - Nothing back! Spill the beans! Is this blackmail, or some kind of joke?" "Well, get yerself settled And hear how I've fettled My story, before you deride it. Told as it occurred, Heaven's truth, every word. Don't knock it, if you haven't tried it!" 
Page 2
|
|
| The Epic of Marmarad is © Guy Bevan and Andy Hiles 2005 | Click anywhere on a page to browse forward or back..... |
HomeIndexCharactersCredits