brothers and sisters. pray for me.
as the wolfman howled at the moon, the poor little womble wormed his way around the devil's garden. the great h drought was not yet over and as they were not accustomed to such inferior h, they thought it best to conduct their evening business in the rose garden. "i could have sworn i left some here once" wolfman cried as they relentlessly searched the garden for even the smallest trace of high quality h. and that's when they saw her. one look and they knew she was a rotter. it was unmistakable. she was quite charming, but one look into her eyes was all it took to know who she was. "i have one vial" they heard her say from her cold red lips, smiling at their groveling. desperately trying to seduce them. wolfman looked at womble and they both ran like hell. "what a rotter" wolfman laughed. womble just stared straight ahead. how he wished he had not recognized her for what she was. how he wished h was not in short supply. how he wished he was back in wormwood scrubs, ironically free as a bird. but all that he could tell his dear friend was, "it's a pity 2,000 quid just ain't what it used to be. will this drought ever end? i can't afford it to go on much longer."
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