A Close Call

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So, last night Hugo the Dog and I are nearing the end of our pre-bedtime constitutional, just getting to the part that necessitates passing through a narrow, tree-lined pathway about 20 yards long connecting two streets. As I approach the exit I'm confronted by a scary clown armed with a knife. Now you may ask yourself, why is Donald Trump terrorising residents of South-East Manchester? But no! Twas not him. It was one of those idiots who, as per the current craze, dresses up as a clown and tries to scare people. I carefully weighed up my options and I'm really not proud of what I did next. Now, you would not believe how many of my body parts are registered as lethal weapons. I can kill a man in 7 different ways with my coccyx alone. But you have to understand that, should the mangled corpse of a scary clown be traced back to me, my cover would be blown and tens of thousands of innocent lives endangered. So it was purely for reasons of national security (honest!!!) I turned and fled. The clown gave chase but it soon became apparent that his 3 foot long shoes weren't conducive to a high speed chase so I reverted back to my previous casual amble. I allowed myself a satisfied grin as the laboured thud-thudding of his over size footwear receded. I turned round to give him a sarcastic wave and, to my horror, saw him climbing into his car which he'd left parked at the entrance to the footpath. I increased my speed again, desperately looking for somewhere to evade the vehicle which, by now, had started up and moved off in pursuit. It was then I realised that, not unlike his footwear, his car wasn't designed for a hot pursuit. The slightly off-centre mounted wheels were making for a slow, bumpy journey allowing me to slow down again to catch my breath. As I was considering my next move I realised I was probably going to make it out of this situation alive as his car shuddered to a halt and, emitting an almighty bang, the doors fell off swiftly followed by the wheels. The bonnet (translation: hood) popped open and the radiator cap blew off showering my erstwhile assailant with a cloud of confetti. I casually returned home, cover intact, Mrs WorDazza still blissfully unaware of my true raison d'etre! Of course, it should go without saying, for reasons of national security, if anyone mentions any of this I'm afraid I will have to kill you.