happy. Face it, youâd rather be doing this than be stuck on the palings as a human shish kebab!
ogether you march back down there. Youâre being as brave as you can. You get to the graves. And, to your utter amazement, everythingâs normal. Impossible but true. The grass is back in the ground, the soil is in place, the grave is undisturbed. How can this be? You and Stacey tiptoe nervously over. The earth looks like itâs been there forever.
Then you notice the old man. Heâs leaning over the fence from next door, staring at you. You look back, then you remember your manners.
âEr, hi,â you say.
âHello,â he says.
âWeâre just looking at the graves,â you say.
âI can see that,â he replies.
âDo you know whoâs buried in this one?â you ask. Youâre pointing at the middle one, the one that opened up last night.
âSure I do,â he says.
You wait for him to say more, and finally he speaks.
âItâs Fingers Spratt,â he says.
âFingers?â you ask nervously, dreading where this might be leading.
âYes,â he says. âFingers. Funny name isnât it? You know why they called him that? Itâs because he didnât have all his fingers. He lost one in an accident with a mincer. And then he lost both hands, when he put them . . .â
But you and Stacey donât hear any more. Youâre both running like crazy to get away from there. You donât care where you go! Anywhere! The tip! The sewerage farm! School! Anywhere, just to get away from there!
ogether you march back down there. Youâre being as brave as you can. You get to the graves. And, to your utter amazement, everythingâs normal. Impossible but true. The grass is back in the ground, the soil is in place, the grave is undisturbed. How can this be? You and Stacey tiptoe nervously over. The earth looks like itâs been there forever.
Then you notice the old man. Heâs leaning over the fence from next door, staring at you. You look back, then you remember your manners.
âEr, hi,â you say.
âHello,â he says.
âWeâre just looking at the graves,â you say.
âI can see that,â he replies.
âDo you know whoâs buried in this one?â you ask. Youâre pointing at the middle one, the one that opened up last night.
âSure I do,â he says.
You wait for him to say more, and finally he speaks.
âItâs Fingers Spratt,â he says.
âFingers?â you ask nervously, dreading where this might be leading.
âYes,â he says. âFingers. Funny name isnât it? You know why they called him that? Itâs because he didnât have all his fingers. He lost one in an accident with a mincer. And then he lost both hands, when he put them . . .â
But you and Stacey donât hear any more. Youâre both running like crazy to get away from there. You donât care where you go! Anywhere! The tip! The sewerage farm! School! Anywhere, just to get away from there!
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