Molly is thirteen when she swallows a fly; perhaps she'll eventually die. The scientific evidence is overwhelming - pointing to 'she will'. For now, her only problem is a fly; and how to get rid of it. She asks her best friend and next-door neighbour Dolly, who lives in a shoe. Dolly hasn't done biology yet but has witnessed a spider feeding; so she suggests: "swallow that", as opposed to: "hang around - they don't live very long". Things go well, the buzzing stops, followed by a tickling and a wriggling...
The next chapter in our story covers a far greater period of time, the spider may well have died, but Molly has got the taste for this lark now. If a bird is going to get down Molly's throat, it would have to be a wren - they are notoriously small and nest anywhere - but how to lure it alive towards a spidery supper? Worms, and lots of 'em. She must have gulletted 300 of the bastards before brer wren flew in. Brave, cute, fluttery little wren, pecking and shitting and too stupid just to stick around outside living off free worms... did I cover fluttering?
I'll spare you the details of the cat - horrible business.
Where are the R.S.P.C.A. while all this is going on? Rolf Harris? Bill Oddie? Postman Pat? Cher? We have to lay some of the blame for these atrocities at the foot of Dolly. Her parents have passed away, leaving her sole beneficiary in their will *ahem* sole bene..oh, nevermind... and this loss has obviously taken its toll. At no time (once the badger is swallowed, for instance) does she sit her friend down, cuff her hard about the lughole, and suggest bingo as an option.
We now have two old ladies, both 76, sitting on deck chairs in Molly's garden contemplating 'Dobbin'. It's a good job they didn't try to cook the old nag because he would have been as tough as Dolly's old house. No thought of drawing a diagram to show the relative sizes of the two life-forms involved, nay to that; or any worries about digestion and (lets not be squeamish) doing number two's. Ever tried swallowing a hoof? Multiply that by four and keep going...further......up a bit...... forget the number you first thought of....double it again...
Of course she died. We all do.
There was another old lady who swallowed a shoe, perhaps she'll pooh.
By day a mild-mannered janitor, by night an off-duty mild-mannered janitor.
................by day a mild-mannered janitor, by night an off-duty mild-mannered janitor...............
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