Well, that was a surprise.
As I mentioned earlier, Deadfast was indeed coming up the drive way.
I wish he wouldn’t do that… it’s hell on the paving out there. The amount of scrubbing I’ve had to do of late is UNBELIEVABLE.
When he got into the mansion, I met him in the hallway and he had a grin on his face.
“Walter,” he slurred. “I’ve made a bet.”
This, trust me, was not going to lead to good things.
The last bet he made involved a male dance troupe from Berlin, an ostrich, and a small frozen turkey.
It wasn’t pretty, and I didn’t sit down for a week…
“What kind of bet?” I asked, guiding him to his favourite chair.
“One that I am sure we can win!” he laughed gleefully, wriggling out of my grasp and doing a little jig on the carpet. “Whoo-hoo!”
“Ok, is there any chance you can describe this bet in a little more detail?”
He then collapsed, and is still asleep there on the floor.
I should, really carry him up to his bedroom and put him into his bedtime clothes.
To be honest, though, I can smell his faeces from here and the maid is in a little later.
I’ll leave it to her to find him.
I wonder what this bet could be?
I’ve only just settled back into being in England.
I was hoping to catch the football this weekend. Oh well. No doubt I’ll soon be plunged into peril yet again…
Posted by Walter