It had been a long and somewhat depressing day and she felt she’d had enough, so she put on her coat and walked up the road to the green, and took t...e footpath across to the George, where she had a simple meal and a pint of cider. Brett Dawson, who’d bought the house across the road from hers five years ago, and whom she vaguely knew, came over to greet her, and he sat down at her table and talked for a while. He seemed to be ok, she thought. As soon as she’d finished her meal, though, she took. And downstairs of course is the dungeon. Be careful descending the stairs, and hold the handrail. They are designed to daunt the dainty and to deter the dilettante from descending to the dungeon without proper prior preparation and pondering.” “Oh, look,” said Peter, pointing to a pink pony tail plug. “You could be my little pony.” “I’d rather put the plug in you, Peter,” Poppet replied. “Then you’d be my studly steed.” Peter wasn’t listening. He had begun descending the stairway to the. More

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