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Poor Alfred
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Behind These Eyes...

It was a cold and windy day, but that didn't much bother Alfred. He didn't really give much thought to that sort of thing. Come to think of it, Alfred didn't really ever give much thought to anything. I suppose it's not often that people like Alfred do think about things, especially when they're dead and covered in three feet of snow.

You see, this wasn't the first cold and windy day it had been for quite a while. No, it had been very cold and windy for some time now, unfortunately for poor Alfred the frail body of a bulimic midget doesn't take too well to being left out in the cold, wind and snow for too long.

His mother had told him, "Come in out of that cold," she said, "you'll catch your death out there."

Little did the two of them know how true this hollow cliché was about to become.

"Mother, I'm a grown man and I'll do as I please!" Alfred yelled back.

However, defiant as he was, he couldn't help but get the feeling that his mother may be right this time. But he had never been one for listening to listening to his mother and he sure wasn't  about to start now.

Alfred's mother on the other hand, had always been one for worrying too much, and she wasn't about to stop now.

Oh, how she worried. She worried and worried until the cows came home. She was glad to see them again, but she knew that all the cows in the world could never replace her dear Alfred.

THE END

By Tim Hughes © 2001

David Cottrell ­­­© 2000