The first thing Silo felt upon opening his eyes was shooting pains in his wrists and between his ankles and knees.
His first thought was Why the hell can't I move?!
This was a mistake as it was met with the response Think about it Silo. Just put 2 and 2 together. And don't make 5. Reach the logical conclusion. Use your brain, I'm fairly sure you have one somewhere.
"Oh Gods help me. I'm being talked to again!"
"What's he on about this time?"
"As if I know. I told you we should have dumped him miles back."
"Yeah but the wife..."
"I know..."
"And the retributions..."
"I know.."
"And the ... "
"For Goodness sakes I said I know already!"
Silo glanced to his side and saw a large potato sack with feet sticking out of it. Those toes are curling in the exact same way Caesara's do. How odd.
Why Can You Not Just Use Your Brain?!
Silo let out a sob. A noise which sounded rather like he was managing to choke without anything blocking his windpipe.
I always get the Idiots. Just once in a while someone with a braincell would be nice.
Silo felt a warm mass somewhere near his side. It was the strangest sensation. He could feel the heat. He was fairly sure it was a body. But he couldn't identify what or where it was.
Look at your midrift.
Silo gave up on ignoring the voice, it must be some part of his subconcious trying to help him out, and looked down. What he saw was what appeared to be a large ginger hairball. It was breathing.
It's the cat from the farm. Why did Sym follow me home?
Finally the idiot makes progress. Don't interfere they say. Let them work it out for themselves. You'll make it all go wrong. Well either every other one of us had damned genius's. Or they were all bloody saints.
Why is the cat on me? And why are ... OH GODS ... WHY ARE MY HANDS TIED?
Silo let out a yell.
"Would You Shut Him Up?!"
"Why Me?"
"You insisted on bringing him."
"But..."
"NOW!"
Silo shut up. And tried to look at the bodies from which the voices were emanating. They were large and bulky. Smartly dressed. They seemed familiar, although Silo couldn't place them.
And then the one who had been told to shut him up turned around. And he remembered. This was the face which attatched to the fist which had knocked him out which was why he was stuck on this stupid wagon trussed and bound.
The Idiot made it. Halleluliah. I'm applying for Sainthood.
Silo looked at the cat again. And lit up. Symudiad's in my head.
Five gold stars for the idiot, and to think I let you pet me.
His first thought was Why the hell can't I move?!
This was a mistake as it was met with the response Think about it Silo. Just put 2 and 2 together. And don't make 5. Reach the logical conclusion. Use your brain, I'm fairly sure you have one somewhere.
"Oh Gods help me. I'm being talked to again!"
"What's he on about this time?"
"As if I know. I told you we should have dumped him miles back."
"Yeah but the wife..."
"I know..."
"And the retributions..."
"I know.."
"And the ... "
"For Goodness sakes I said I know already!"
Silo glanced to his side and saw a large potato sack with feet sticking out of it. Those toes are curling in the exact same way Caesara's do. How odd.
Why Can You Not Just Use Your Brain?!
Silo let out a sob. A noise which sounded rather like he was managing to choke without anything blocking his windpipe.
I always get the Idiots. Just once in a while someone with a braincell would be nice.
Silo felt a warm mass somewhere near his side. It was the strangest sensation. He could feel the heat. He was fairly sure it was a body. But he couldn't identify what or where it was.
Look at your midrift.
Silo gave up on ignoring the voice, it must be some part of his subconcious trying to help him out, and looked down. What he saw was what appeared to be a large ginger hairball. It was breathing.
It's the cat from the farm. Why did Sym follow me home?
Finally the idiot makes progress. Don't interfere they say. Let them work it out for themselves. You'll make it all go wrong. Well either every other one of us had damned genius's. Or they were all bloody saints.
Why is the cat on me? And why are ... OH GODS ... WHY ARE MY HANDS TIED?
Silo let out a yell.
"Would You Shut Him Up?!"
"Why Me?"
"You insisted on bringing him."
"But..."
"NOW!"
Silo shut up. And tried to look at the bodies from which the voices were emanating. They were large and bulky. Smartly dressed. They seemed familiar, although Silo couldn't place them.
And then the one who had been told to shut him up turned around. And he remembered. This was the face which attatched to the fist which had knocked him out which was why he was stuck on this stupid wagon trussed and bound.
The Idiot made it. Halleluliah. I'm applying for Sainthood.
Silo looked at the cat again. And lit up. Symudiad's in my head.
Five gold stars for the idiot, and to think I let you pet me.
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