Bizarre Monkey Trousers Ate My Face Anyway, as I was saying, Terrence the whelk was a happy whelk. He enjoyed days out at the bus depot, sticking himself to windows, knitting monkey trousers and chasing horses in the fields. His #life was indeed full. Then one day his pleasant, whelky world was turned upside down when he was introduced to his new neighbour Barry. Barry was a shoehorn with a mild disinterest in milk bottles and a permanently forlorn look upon his shiny, long, tiresome face. "Morning!" shouted Terrence towards Barry who was tending to his lobster patch in his badger garden. "Is it?!" replied Barry in a bizarre monotone growl, "Yes, indeed it is! Are you not aware of your surroundings you bizarre freak of nature?!" Screamed the portly mollusc. " I couldn't actually tell. I am afraid I am a shoehorn and therefore have no eyes and cannot differentiate between light and dark. Thus i am unable to determine the time of day and so live my #life entirely in the present moment." Barry informed Terrence in a mildly troubled and sinister manner whilst stroking a carrot. "That's SOOOOOOOOO interesting! But tell me, if you have no eyes then why are you wearing those insanely garish glasses with the tragic looking vole stapled to the bridge?" queried Terrence whose voice was now at a volume that could actually brake bones. "Well my little fish smelling friend, that is indeed a long story. It is a story of dreams and nightmares. It is a story filled with tension and desire, of wonder and bewilderment, of sausage and onions. It involves a cape, a golden cornflake and an annoying rabbit!" replied Barry, his non-existent eyes misting over with a sense of longing to a by-gone era. "IS THAT TRUE?!" mimed Terrence whose voice had now taken on supernatural powers "I'm afraid not." winced Barry, "I only said it to appear interesting and windswept." Terrence looked at Barry in a way only a confused whelk could. "hmmmmmmmm....... doesn't really answer the question, does it?" Terrence retorted with a huff and a gurgle. "no." the slightly embarrassed shoehorn mumbled. "......and i fail to see how a shoehorn can appear interesting and windswept. I would imagine it is a physical impossibility for an inanimate object to appear Heathcliffe-like, especially one that makes the wearing of footwear that little bit easier. Don't get me wrong, you have a role in #life and you do it well and all credit to you for that, but i feel you maybe setting your sights a little too high in how you want people to see you. I would think it through again if I were you." advised the 'whelk of all knowledge' in a thoughtful if slighlty condescending manner. Barry stopped stroking his carrot and laid it down gently next to a courgette dressed as a pirate. He turned and faced Terrence and started to make a most bizarre snorkelling sound, a sound that resembled a sponge on a bicycle being chased by a loofer on horseback. Barry started to get louder and louder and began rocking back and forth whilst stroking his belly in a circular motion, each movement getting him closer to the floor like a plastic weeble. "Erm.. what are you doing?" wrote Terrence on a lettuce leaf which he handed to the swift moving shoe utensil. "I'M GETTING READY!!" squealed Barry. "Can I ask for what?!" enquired Terrence on a new leaf. "Yes." answered Barry. "Ok then....... What for?" replied Terrence, a little bit concerned and slightly bemused by the whole day's events with the worryingly temperamental neighbour, "THIS.........!!" and with that Barry fell flat on his face. "My word. That is an impressive move. That looked like it hurt. You really smashed your face there. You might want to wear a helmet next time." advised Terrence. Barry just lay there, face down. The faint sound of sobbing eminating from beneath his crashed face. His shoulders gave a little wobble like a fat jelly on a trampoline. Terrence decided that the only way he could help was to poke him with a stick he found near by.