![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
I was going to write about what a wonderful weekend I had but I have been distracted by something of a more serious and sinister nature.
Last night I popped to the shops for a few bits and pieces. Among the items purchased was a small tin of sardines in tomato sauce. I can clearly remember packing them at the till them when I got home placing them in the cupboard ready to eat with some salad for lunch today. I have just been to the kitchen to discover that...
(those of a nervous disposition should stop reading now)
...the sardines are gone! It is important to note that I live here alone, and have received no visitors since I returned home last night. In fact, the door has been locked until 10 minutes ago when I needed to check to see if some more shelves could be fitted in while still allowing the door to be opened. (They can't.) The only other person to have a key to the flat is Kris, who texted me at lunchtime to say that he was in a stupidly large bus in the middle of Doncaster, and who doesn't like fish anyway. Therefore the way I see it there are 3 distinct possibilities:
1. I never bought any sardines in the first place, and my memories of doing so are a very complete full-sense hallucination. This raises the question of whether this proves that I am going insane, or whether I am in fact working for a covert government agency, and was not innocently at the shops last night but carrying out some deadly and unspeakable assignment in the name of national security. Having wiped my mind of my actual activity, they implanted the false memory and left evidence around the flat to corroborate this, neglecting in their haste one small can of sardines.
2. I am being stalked by a supernatural entity with a penchant for canned fish products. On previous occasions I have found myself in possession of tins of tuna where I would swear none had previously existed. I had naturally assumed at the time that this was some twist on the traditional loaves and fishes miracle and that in due time I would be revealed as the incarnation of the second coming, or at least have received a free crusty white thick-sliced. However recent events suggest that a darker power may have been behind this. I am also not ruling out the possibility of zombie sardines.
3. Kris is not actually in Doncaster or driving a bus but has in fact been waiting for my guard to drop long enough to sneak in and swipe my sardines. This would mean that his hole bus driving career and his professed hatred of fish is all an elaborate sham, enacted entirely for my benefit. From this the only possible conclusion to draw is that my best friend is in fact a secret penguin.
And I think I'm going to have chicken for lunch instead.
Last night I popped to the shops for a few bits and pieces. Among the items purchased was a small tin of sardines in tomato sauce. I can clearly remember packing them at the till them when I got home placing them in the cupboard ready to eat with some salad for lunch today. I have just been to the kitchen to discover that...
(those of a nervous disposition should stop reading now)
...the sardines are gone! It is important to note that I live here alone, and have received no visitors since I returned home last night. In fact, the door has been locked until 10 minutes ago when I needed to check to see if some more shelves could be fitted in while still allowing the door to be opened. (They can't.) The only other person to have a key to the flat is Kris, who texted me at lunchtime to say that he was in a stupidly large bus in the middle of Doncaster, and who doesn't like fish anyway. Therefore the way I see it there are 3 distinct possibilities:
1. I never bought any sardines in the first place, and my memories of doing so are a very complete full-sense hallucination. This raises the question of whether this proves that I am going insane, or whether I am in fact working for a covert government agency, and was not innocently at the shops last night but carrying out some deadly and unspeakable assignment in the name of national security. Having wiped my mind of my actual activity, they implanted the false memory and left evidence around the flat to corroborate this, neglecting in their haste one small can of sardines.
2. I am being stalked by a supernatural entity with a penchant for canned fish products. On previous occasions I have found myself in possession of tins of tuna where I would swear none had previously existed. I had naturally assumed at the time that this was some twist on the traditional loaves and fishes miracle and that in due time I would be revealed as the incarnation of the second coming, or at least have received a free crusty white thick-sliced. However recent events suggest that a darker power may have been behind this. I am also not ruling out the possibility of zombie sardines.
3. Kris is not actually in Doncaster or driving a bus but has in fact been waiting for my guard to drop long enough to sneak in and swipe my sardines. This would mean that his hole bus driving career and his professed hatred of fish is all an elaborate sham, enacted entirely for my benefit. From this the only possible conclusion to draw is that my best friend is in fact a secret penguin.
And I think I'm going to have chicken for lunch instead.
