Episode Sixteen

I have to write this down, even though I know no-one will be ever believe me. It all started a few weeks ago when this package arrived. It wasn't for me; I've never heard of this Gilbert guy, but I opened it anyway - little suspecting what it would contain. Yeah, it was a swede, but no ordinary swede, or at least nothing like any swede I'd ever come across. And I've come across some swedes; like if you cook 'em and blend 'em with a little butter and salt and pepper and get a nice consistency for spreading, you can sort of ooze them allover a girl's ... but I digress.

Well, I took one look and I knew this was no ordinary swede, see. Well, for one thing the Product Spec sheet was like I'd never seen with a swede before (an aubergine maybe, but a swede never). I've attached the spec sheet too.

So what else? The swede was wrapped in a copy of The Cambridge Evening News, dated March 7th, 1980. Meant nothing to me, but it did mention your name. I've spent ages looking through technical journals, but I finally traced you from your letter to Rubberwear Monthly, and I'm sending you this letter to see if you can help me. See, since I got this swede some strange guy called Ragen - says he works for Literary Flying Squad has been to see me. He didn't seem a very trustworthy person; I only got out of the hospital yesterday. But he said that the swede could be the key to discovering the secret behind one of the biggest unsolved conspiracies of the Seventies. Then he started eating the guppies in the my fish tank and I don't remember any more until I woke up in intensive care with a severe case of aquarium water heater on the colon. But he didn't get the swede. I still have it hidden. As it claimed on the spec sheet, it's gone into Auto-Rot mode and is now a rather unpleasant shade of green and a superb penicillin source. But it is still safe. What should I do? Should I give it to Ragen? I'm sure he will be back soon, if only to finish off the guppies. Or should I send it to you? Or what? I'm terribly confused.

The phone just rang. I sent it away. But this girl on the other end (I looked down the handset) said her name was Petal and offered me all sorts of inducements to send the swede to her. I wish I'd never found this swede. (Mind you, Petal seems like a nice girl, I wonder if she shares my interest in pureed swede?) Ever since it arrived the man behind the counter at Hu's Chinese Takeaway and Tart shop has been giving me funny looks every time I go in for a pancake roll. And at Sainsbury's as well - the twenty-four stone wrestler at the chicken counter has been acting strange. Well, what should I do? Please help You are my last hope. Ever since Lord Flongord didn't reply to my letter and I was turned down by the Geology Department and N. London Poly I've had no'one else to turn to. Even my neighbours Rudy and Ginsberg have disappeared. So please tell me what to do, please.

Have a nice day, The Happy Paranoid.

P.S. This is getting silly. Another package has arrived here. It's full of sheets of paper covered in unintelligible writing and terrible typing. I can't understand a word. I just want to get rid of it, so I'm sending it to you. Also some other people seem to be involved in all this. I'm going to get in touch with them too, if I get a chance before all this catches up with me. I can hear people outside the front door now. It might be too late. I'll get this letter sent, hide the swede somewhere and then ...