I Want My Mummy!

Two horror stories about mummies, hence the title. Meant as a bit of fun. The first is about a bloke who buys a great metal detector; you’ll never guess what it’s made from. Well, this bloke goes into this farmer’s field and starts detecting. The second story is absolutely true. More
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About Frankie Lassut

Born right on the edge of the Lake District. Fifty metres (yards) further West I would have been in the Irish sea. Spent thirty years there, the first fifteen or so studying hard to get a job in a factory. Got the job in the factory and at the weekends knocked about around the Lake District.
Then I left the area as there was nothing much there except a confused looking red squirrel who thought it was a rat with a bushy tail. I panicked, so I got on my bike and began to pedal down the M6. First of all to Blackpool where I attended Blackpool and the Fylde college and did photography for a year' which was an experience where I found I could drink alcohol with the other students; although I didn't do silly things when full of drink.
I then got on the bike again and hit the M6 again.
I ended up in Coventry. I had heard that the streets were paved with gold. They were! But, it was a type of gold I'd never seen i.e. it wasn't yellow or shiny and had the texture and looks of dirty concrete; and it was hard to invest in index linked bonds in the Dow Jones in Coventry.
Nevertheless, I decided to sit down and write things such as ''what's with all the grey squirrels?".
The one book I didn't write was 'How to lose weight by not eating'. It went like this, 'write a best seller and then eat'. Simple formula. I died of starvation and then came back as a zombie. So I wrote a zombie story which was true.
Over the years I've wondered why I'm still plump and not a skeleton. I've also wondered why all the crap things that happen to you make better stories than nice things. There again, the crap files are towering above the nice file. If we were talking A4 paper I'd say the four foot pile of crap things tower over the one sheet of the nice thing. You just have to keep going and hope that the great muse of storytelling one day gives birth to you. Does all of that sound insane? That's good then because I major in Bizzaro stories. Just remember, 'to know me is to love me because I'm a real nice guy who loves to give money away to strangers'.

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