Tricky
Introduction
As you surely know, all good books have a beginning, a middle and an end. This is the case with my story, but I know what you are like. I know that the first thing you will do is turn to the last page and read it. It’s like going on holiday; you know were you are going and when you are coming home, but what happens in between is the exciting bit.
I’ve decided to save you a lot of trouble in flicking through the book and reading the last page, here it is, at the start of the book, the beginning comes after that and the middle somewhere in between.
Now, all you have to do is read the rest of the book, the beginning and the middle, usually the most exciting bit, and discover how I got to this victorious conclusion.
Here we go, the end.
The demoralised deputy head ran, or rather hobbled quickly, helped by the rat faced caretaker, Mr Roberts. I tried to look ill and not laugh at the girl’s toilet seat attached to his backside or the hastily unscrewed door handle still clinging to his right hand. I, however, finally burst into laughter as I saw, his left hand holding up his trousers as a brown stain trailed behind him from the leg of his trousers (your imagination can tell you what this brown trail was). It was then that I spotted his bare feet, desperately scrabbling for grip on the wet floor. His feet were infantile, the smallest feet I’ve ever seen on an adult. How absurd that such a ball shaped body could be held up by such petit feet.
The deputy head scanned his surroundings, his beady eyes fell on me. Incensed at the sight of his nemesis he let fly a vengeful tirade.
As you surely know, all good books have a beginning, a middle and an end. This is the case with my story, but I know what you are like. I know that the first thing you will do is turn to the last page and read it. It’s like going on holiday; you know were you are going and when you are coming home, but what happens in between is the exciting bit.
I’ve decided to save you a lot of trouble in flicking through the book and reading the last page, here it is, at the start of the book, the beginning comes after that and the middle somewhere in between.
Now, all you have to do is read the rest of the book, the beginning and the middle, usually the most exciting bit, and discover how I got to this victorious conclusion.
Here we go, the end.
The demoralised deputy head ran, or rather hobbled quickly, helped by the rat faced caretaker, Mr Roberts. I tried to look ill and not laugh at the girl’s toilet seat attached to his backside or the hastily unscrewed door handle still clinging to his right hand. I, however, finally burst into laughter as I saw, his left hand holding up his trousers as a brown stain trailed behind him from the leg of his trousers (your imagination can tell you what this brown trail was). It was then that I spotted his bare feet, desperately scrabbling for grip on the wet floor. His feet were infantile, the smallest feet I’ve ever seen on an adult. How absurd that such a ball shaped body could be held up by such petit feet.
The deputy head scanned his surroundings, his beady eyes fell on me. Incensed at the sight of his nemesis he let fly a vengeful tirade.
