"Run away!" you yell. Now is the time for cowardice.

Cowardice sometimes just IS one's only recourse -- especially when confronted by many-armed and slimey mythical sea beasties suddenly appearing during luncheon in a Torquay hotel.

In such a shameful rush to save yourself, you trip over yourself in your strategic withdrawal. You're almost uncertain that you hear helicopters beating the air: You cannot be leaving Saigon! Something's amiss in your frightened, frazzled mind.

"Oh -- Sorry!"

"Think nothing of it -- Shoulda gotten outta my own way, really!"

Terror plays wicked games with the cowardly, and the spineless. You wonder -- only the briefest of moments -- Could the Kraken be doing this?! -- Diverting you with mind games? -- Delaying the cowardly and spineless just long enough, so that the mythical sea beastie and its budgie beak big as a Boeing triple-seven engine intake can rip open your back, leaving you truly spineless, and at its rapacious mercy?!

You've reached the relative safety of the wilting potted palms along one wall of the restaurant. You hide behind one of the less wilting. You peer out between the green fronds. You're hoping your camouflage has confounded the Kraken. You hope it -- or those two sweet old lady time travellers it was before -- are hungry enough that they go for the ham.

Not everybody has wisely fled as you have.

The End

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