TROUBLE IN STORE

This morning Wilson popped round to the Supermarket with Byron and Nërp to 'pick up a few essentials'.

A little later I received (yet another) telephone call from the lady in charge of Security, informing me that the boys appeared to be 'performing some sort of funeral ceremony at the fish counter'.

Wilson is both an ordained minister in the Pastafarian Church and a staunch vegetarian, and it appears that he has temporarily sworn-in Nërp and Byron as 'Deputy Priests' for the duration of the funeral service he was performing for the fish on the counter.

By the time I had driven round, parked the car and run in to the store, Wilson was just concluding the service, solemnly intoning:

'Hail Marinara,

Full of Spice,

The Flying Spaghetti Monster is filled with thee.

Tasty art thou amongst sauces,

and blessed is the fruit of thy jar,
tomatoes

(although fools believe they are vegetables).


Holy Marinara,

Chief Amongst Toppings,

Save a plate for us now,

and at about 6 o’clock when dinner is served,
if you would be so kind.


RAmen.'

Then – after raising a mournful toast to the deceased dory, slain sardines and murdered mackerel – prepared to leave… when Byron noticed my presence.

I made Wilson apologise for the disruption and possible lost sales, and the Security Lady kindly directed us to the Vegetarian Food Aisle where I made a sizeable guilt-based purchase.

Once we get home I shall be sure to find something to occupy everyone and keep them out of mischief…