Little Hairy-Harry, thus immobilised and daydreaming, pondered the peculiar country he had discovered.
‘A heart-shaped mountain and another in the shape of a megalith? What on earth could it mean?’
He ached to grow up, meet people, make friends, have fun, throw a barbecue. He smiled to himself, wedged into his hidey-hole (as the neckbrace advised by his doctor took up rather a lot of space) and he dreamed up plans for his future.
‘Give us a smile, hey twatface?’
An immense flash lit up the sky.
Little Hairy-Harry considered how very unfathomable the world about him was.
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