Good news! The veil has parted once more and I have done a reading for you.

Bad news!

The day brings an odd assortment of occurrences as you find yourself with nothing to do. You’ll pop upstairs for a “lie down” and have barely got the top off the tube when you’ll hear a noise from the wardrobe.

Cautiously, you’ll open it and to your surprise you‘ll find a strange creature within. It will turn out to be a gimp named Bow-Legged Billy from down the road. You’ll unzip his mouth hole and he’ll swear he has no idea how he got there and he’ll say the last he remembers is going to the shops for a packet of fags and some anti chaffing cream. Having been stuck in your wardrobe for an unknown length of time, Bow-Legged Billy won’t be able to stand, so on the floor he’ll stay. He’ll convince you to go to the shops for him and being the kind hearted fool you are, you’ll agree.

This will be a mistake!

No sooner will you arrive at the shop than you’ll find yourself staring down Mary, the cross-eyed proprietress of the corner shop. You’ll ask for fags and anti-chaffing cream for Billy and Mary will begin winking at you. Behind you will come the sound of a muffled laugh and then it will all go black.

You will awaken in a gimp suit and soon discover that you are inside a wardrobe unable to move due to the lack of feeling in your legs caused by the tightness of the rubber. You’ll begin rocking back and forth in an attempt to make your presence known and after some time the wardrobe door will open.

You will find you are now staring into the face of Bow-Legged Billy’s mother, the equally bow-legged Brenda who had popped upstairs for a “lie down”. She will unzip your mouth hole and allow you to explain yourself.

Upon hearing your story Brenda will mutter that you are her son now and will zip up your mouth hole once more and close the wardrobe door. The last thing you’ll hear will be the sound of Brenda “lying down”.

Weeks later you’ll be discovered by police, quite dead, but perfectly preserved and surrounded by plate upon plate of uneaten, and now rotting, roast dinners.

The coroner will put your death down to misadventure.

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