May 29th 2006
After cooking the second of the spiked meatballs, in fact deliberately overcooking it to some degree in an effort to make the missile as sold as possible and thus less prone to disintegrating in flight like one of Barnes Wallisâ€™s early attempts at the Bouncing Bomb, and after allowing it to cool down sufficiently, I took it out into the garden and prepared to propel it into the Pollittâ€™s back garden. They had gone out somewhere leaving You Twat behind barking and howling its fool head off as per usual and ruining my Bank Holiday. Not for much longer!
As previously I had taken the precaution of going down to the park for half-an-hourâ€™s practice in order to get my range. Also as previously I first tossed a trial pebble before unleashing the meatball. On Friday the pebble had hit the dog. Unfortunately this time it didnâ€™t, leastwise You Twat didnâ€™t start howling any louder. Confident that Iâ€™d judged the distance correctly I quickly followed the pebble with the meatball.
The Trouble was out visiting her sister on this occasion and therefore wasnâ€™t on hand at the back bedroom window as my spotter, so to ascertain whether Iâ€™d hit the target area I had to go upstairs to take a look myself.Â I had; by the time Iâ€™d got there You Twat was champing away hungrily at the meatball.
I looked on, content in the knowledge that the delinquent dog would very soon be taking forty winks, or more likely four hundred winks, and Iâ€™d be able to enjoy a bit of peace and quiet again.
I got my binoculars out so I would have a better view of the slobbering beast departing for the Land if Nod. But as well as the dog my binoculars picked out something on the ground, near it. At first I thought it was a large dog turd but when I used the binocularsâ€™ zoom facility and brought the image closer I recognised it as the raw meatball Iâ€™d thrown on Friday. It must have been there all weekend without any of the Pollitts noticing it, or more likely noticing it and wrongly identifying it as just another of You Twatâ€™s turds, as I had.
Having finished the meatball You Twat stood smacking his lips. Then, no doubt having acquired a taste for Tescoâ€™s steak mince meatballs, surely a more attractive diet than the mysteries of a can of dog food, the bloody thing set about eating the previously ignored raw meatball. Shit, that would make it twelve sleeping pills it had swallowed! Having quickly polished it off the dog then stood smacking its chops and looking around hopefully for another meatball.
Once the twelve sleeping pills had kicked in I expected it to start getting drowsy, and maybe stagger about drunkenly for a bit before giving up the ghost, lying down, and going to sleep, but no; after about thirty seconds it simply dropped to the ground like a stone. There was a single violent twitch from its hind legs as it rolled over onto its back, then no further movement, not so much as a flicker.
I watched it for a good half hour after that and it never moved a muscle. It looked as dead as a doornail to me, which it could very well be after swallowing twelve sleeping pills all at one go. Itâ€™s certainly quietened it down though.
It was still in exactly the same position when I looked about four-o-clock. The Pollitts had arrived home by this time but none had apparently noticed the lack of life in You Twat, either that or theyâ€™d noticed and didnâ€™t give a shit. Probably the latter. Â