A surreal and, frankly, odd tale from the recesses of my sleep-deprived mind.
My first post on here, this was essentially a speculative stab in the dark to see who was out there. It branches out in different directions so feel free to come add some inanity - the more obscure, the merrier!
As the author guidance says; 'Go nuts".
One grey morning something happened to Lionel. Something small. Almost so small that if you noticed it on your hand, you wouldn't even wipe it off. But as our hero was to discover, from little eggs do mighty chickens grow.....
It was the twiglet hours before dawn and Lionel was surprised to find himself awake, having only just gone to sleep the night before. Groping in his duvet for a twiglet to nibble, he squinted at his poodle, Rancid, checking the time on her digital collar.
"That collar was a bargain", mused Lionel, as his wandering hand came to rest on a possible twiglet. As it was not yet light enough to identify the dubious snack by sight, he tried snapping it - few things sound like a twiglet.
Suddenly Lionel howled with pain. The twiglet imposter was in fact one of the fingers on his other hand. It was at moments like this that he would curse his slight, bony physique and seriously reconsider his savoury snack-based diet.
Then something happened.
It happened downstairs but was of no less consequence for it. The sound of it fell on Lionel's fragile ear like a safe on a peanut and he yelped a second time.
"Did you hear that, Rancid?", he whimpered, "It sounded like the fridge door...."
Then it struck him.
Lionel flew from his bed with the speed and grace of an anemic giraffe, straight into the closed bedroom door, which he usually left open.... he was out cold. The day had indeed started in a minor key...
Rancid ambled over to him and began casually chewing on his savoury fingers.