Now, not everybody hates a Triffid (if you consider all life being valuable, you don’t have favourites – all are equal).
So, when (in self-defence, I hasten to add) I shot the top of a towering Triffid, I was mightily surprised when a young lady ran up to me clutching leaflets and a sad expression.
“You’ve killed it!” she cried. “What harm was it doing you? You ought to be ashamed of yourself! Why?”
All these exclamations and questions were not readily answerable to her satisfaction, and I was soon being issues with a notice under Regulation TR1, Section 5, Sub-Section 3, that stated I was formally warned that my actions had brought me in direct conflict with S.C.A.T. (Serious Crimes Against Triffids).
“Do you know S.C.A.T.?” she asked me.
“Without hesitation I broke into some Scat / Do-wop and braved her exasperated look for all of twenty seconds.
“Very recently.” I answered her question.
“What, about two minutes ago?”
“Yes.” I mumbled.
“We shall be watching you.” she warned, as she departed the scene.
I looked after her retreating form, then around at the Triffid trunk.
Shaking my head, I picked up my Triffid Gun, and headed back to my truck.
