No time to lose! Velvene carried the clay figure to the machinora, hauled it into the wicker capacity, then turned to see his mother emerge onto the roof, just ten yards away. He primed the bovine heatorix then cast off, cutting the two restraining ropes with his penknife. The machinora floated up.
His mother launched herself at the machinora, grabbing the flailing end of a rope and pulling it. “Come back here, you thief! I’ll whip you myself! Stop, Velvene, stop this at once.”
“Goodbye mother,” he shouted back. “I most cordially loathe you! You say you shall never see me again, well, that means I shall never see you. And that fills me with joy! Joy, do you hear?”
“You useless man, you’re no son of mine! I’ll have you excommunicated.”
“I do not care. Since you have banished me, I am free to go where I please.”
“May God have mercy on your soul!” she shrieked as the rope slipped from her grasp.
“Goodbye! And thank you for everything!”
With that, the machinora rose with resonant lowing into the heavens, leaving a trail of part chewed grass that splattered in a line along the roof.
- from
Hairy London.
