We’re finally almost there. What was supposed to be a 5-6 hour trip turned out to be (so far) an 8 ½ hour trip. I was reading Christopher Moore out loud before, entertaining both Blair and Anne (and myself: I love reading aloud) but then we hit roundabouts and I had to shut up so Anne could hear the Nuvi. We came out of town onto a bunch of 10-mile stretches of empty road, but she wouldn’t let me keep reading.
Guess Mr. Moore’s just too interesting with his gas-tanker-loving sea monsters…
My ass hurts.
We just passed some of Anne’s old stomping grounds from her university days. How boring, no drinking, drugs or sex under the railways and aqueducts. In fact, very little drinking or sex at all.
Psh.
Then again, I’m not intending to do oodles of drinking in Uni myself. But I intend to make up for it with the other ones. In mild quantities, of course.
Whee! Here we are, in Castleton.
Civilisation! Guys our age, and good-looking to boot! Yay!!
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We passed by many caves on the way in, and many spray-painted sheep.
Kinda makes you think that a sheep could get lost in said caves, with the ‘baa’ magnifying to gargantuan proportions until a simple sheep became a horribly terrifying monster that terrorized tourists and locals alike.
You would hear it approaching, coming closer and closer, as you tried to avoid quaking in terror despite yourself. And as you wonder whether to give into fear and turn and run, the terrible cry of the monster is almost unbearable. You’re about to say ‘fuck bravery, I’m out!’ when from around the corner comes the beast, bringing you face to face with your fear:
A tiny little lamb, bleating in fear itself as it looks around for its mama.
Teehee.
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