The Otters.
I grew up in some stunning english countryside and - dick-jokes aside - many a happy hour were spent playing in the woods and feilds

There was one particular place though. A place that I used to go to all by myself. My parents had taken me there a few times when I was little: A small body of water in a really secluded and quiet area. As I got older I began to appreciate the solitude and I'd go there to collect my thoughts.

The stream in and out of there would alternate between fast running and a mere trickle, but one thing that would never change was the Otters.

They'd be hiding when I turned up I think - maybe my approach would have scared them away - but after a while they'd be there, coming out to play after I'd sat still for a bit. Splashing in the water and larking about and gliding effortlessly to the bottom of the pool.

As a youngster I was fascinated and used to sit mesmerised for ages, but the passing of time saw me being merely happy to know they were there as I sat and read a book, or just dozed quietly. I always felt lighter when I left: it was *that* relaxing.

One particular summer afternoon left me mildly scarred though. Turning up, expecting to find the water without an otter to be seen, I noticed a horrific stench as I approached the pool. There, with it's nose stuck just out of the water was a monster of an otter. Dead, putrid and fairly stiff-looking.

I ran; tears of horror streaming from my eyes. My favourite place had been sullied, Never again would I sit and enjoy the peace and tranquillity as the otters splashed.



Why oh WHY can't people learn to flush?
( Humpty Dumpty was Pushed Is unaware of having any limits., Tue 4 Mar 2008, 14:41, Reply)