The Adventures of Lynne Douglas |
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| Downward Spiral of Lynne Douglas | Redemption of the Death Squad | Beyond the Sunderdome | |||
Beyond the Sunderdome High above the ground on the rickety Heywood Workhouse roof someone was lying in wait in a modern day ambush. The shadowy figure set up the sniper riffle and sat in position waiting for Lynne Douglas to round the corner and then he would snuff out her candle once and for all. Patience was all that was required and the crafty sniper had just bought three bags of it on buy two get one free offer from boots on the Heywood high street. Far away from this potential carnage, on the road to Sunderland Lynne was eating shortbread and contemplating her situation. When she’d taken up the compulsory offer of a duel to the death in the Sunder-dome Lynne had expected transport to be provided, however Niles the Letting Agent and puzzler extraordinaire had jumped on the presumed dead Mr Giblin’s back and ridden off into the sunset, depositing a trail of number and letter exhaust fumes, that formed tricky sudoku, word searches and crosswords to capture innocent pedestrians unlucky enough to become tangled in his complicated fumes. Lynne had been left to fend for her own transport and had luckily managed to secure passage in a horse drawn coach. The Journey had been a somewhat arduous one, starting badly with a sticky
middle and an unforsaking end. Having left Heywood the coach had stopped
at Birch Service Station as the coach driver wanted to stock up pasties,
sausage rolls, and air fresheners because he knew that the journey would
be a long and smelly one. He had also tried to steal an engine off a truck
to fit to one of his horses to make the journey a swift one, but this
only resulted in the death of the horse and a pummelling from the truck
driver who had watched the whole incident unfold from the restaurant window. One month later they reached the border of Sunderland. There sat upon
a fence was a jaunty looking man with long black hair, beanie hat and
a crow on his left shoulder. Seeing this curious gent Lynne shouted the
driver to pull over and stuck her head out of the window. As the carriage approached the Sunder-dome Lynne contemplated on the fact that having travelled by horse and cart and taking so long had in fact had it’s advantages, for it had allowed her to catch up on six months worth of issues of the Readers Digest. She had read an article about the Sunder-dome itself and truth be told it had made her even more nervous than before about duelling in it. She’d learned that having become mayor of Sunderland Roy Keane had one day stolen the Millennium Dome from the banks of the Thames and had it transported to Sunderland where he proposed to turn it into a giant circus, but having set the dome up in Sunderland he realised the potential it had to draw crowds in instead with duels to the death and monster truck events. Thus the Sunder-dome had been born. Lynne threw open the carriage door pushed some midgets aside and strode straight into the heart of the Sunder-dome shouting, “Niles, Niles show yourself it is I Lynne Douglas.” Lights flashed on all around her and she saw that she was in the centre
of a giant arena, with jeering crowds all around, not a single seat was
empty. A short man wearing a black shirt ran to the centre of the dome
where a giant ice cream cone shaped microphone stood as a testament to
the memory of circuses that had initially brought the dome to rest in
this place. Lynne wasn’t sure who this man was, he certainly wasn’t
Niles from Ash Residential Letting Agency but she’d give him a chance
as he was wearing a black shirt because black was her favourite colour,
the colour of her heart! Parties echoed out across the world as sodukus, word searches and crosswords that had held people for generations exploded with people flying out left, right and centre with the curse of the letting agent being broken. No longer did people live in fear having to do such puzzles on a daily basis in the newspaper as a form of protection should they become entangled in one by the dastardly Niles, now they could live in a puzzle free world and once again enjoy the bus trip to work without having to challenge their minds. One of the people freed from a puzzle was Mr Giblin who flew out of a Word Pyramid and across the Sunder-dome where he landed in front of the hero of the hour, Lynne Douglas. Lynne peered down at the sixpence of a man, jumped on his back and as they galloped off into the sunset Lynne said, “You know Mr Giblin I think this could be the beginning of a wonderful friendship.” Two days later Father Cocks, the very priest who had predicted Lynne’s
death before the end of her adventure joined Lynne and Mr Giblin in holy
matrimony at Birch Service Station. The execution warrant of death by
hunting hounds had been lifted by Heywood Council as it had been recognised
just how many people had been freed from the clutches of Niles by Lynne’s
courageous actions. Lynne considered the prediction of her death and how
she had avoided it as she rounded the corner to the workhouse and into
the sniper’s sights. He’d been waiting almost two months for
this opportunity, nobody escaped the wrath of the readers digest and lived
to tell the tale and Lynne had really upset some execs when she’d
failed to hand in her 5000 word report on her trip to Venus at the expense
of the Digest. The sniper aimed her in his sights and pulled the trigger.
“Bah”, he exclaimed being miffed to see that his shot had
missed and realised that he’d used up the rest of his ammo shooting
squirrels in the months he’d been waiting on the roof for Lynne
to arrive. He looked on at the shortbread obsessed woman and considered
how lucky she had been. Just as these thoughts passed through his head
he saw Lynne trip on a paving stone and fall helplessly into the path
of an eighteen wheeled truck driven by a nun. Lynne was flipped through
the air and came to rest in a bloody mess on the car park of the workhouse
next to a steamroller. The End?
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