Dead Short

Welcome To The Real World

Little Jack Horner sat in the corner, thumbing anxiously through the Nursery Times.

Something was desperately wrong. Jack could sense it...a force, moving unobserved throughout the kingdom, changing things, feasting upon the charm and majesty of the land.

He needed answers, and although the Nursery Times was so out of touch with the world that it had taken the paper a full five years to reveal Little Miss Muffet was arachnophobic, it was all Jack had to hand.

'Still reading?' Jack's mother asked as she walked in from the kitchen and propped the door back.

'I am not merely reading, mother,' Jack responded. 'I am attempting to solve a problem that might well threaten the very foundations of our world.'

'That's no excuse for hogging the paper. Your father's been waiting four hours to get a glimpse of the cartoon supplement. Besides, your dinner's ready.' Jack's mother glared at him, hands firmly on hips. 'I suppose it's too much to ask for you to sit at the table for a change?'

'I have to sit in the corner, mother,' Jack stated matter-of-factly. 'It's how the rhyme goes.'

'Yes, but you've been sat in that corner for the last twenty-five years. Apart from being very bad manners, it just isn't natural!'

Jack peered over the top of the newspaper at his mother. 'You've never complained before.'

'Well, it's never struck me as being odd before. Can't imagine why.' Scratching her head, Jack's mother disappeared back into the kitchen.

Once more Jack focused his attention on the newspaper. Carefully he scanned the page, drinking in every word of text, until finally, just a short way down the page from Humpty Dumpty's entry in the obituary column, he found the answer he had been looking for. His eyes widened in dread as the full impact of the article he'd just stumbled across impressed itself on his mind.

'Oh my god!' he gasped.

'What is it now?' his mother asked, re-emerging from the kitchen with a fully laden dinner tray. 'Have you discovered a hair on your chest or something? It'd be about time.'

'This is no joking matter, mother,' Jack said, the newspaper trembling in his clammy hands. 'Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep...whilst attempting to transport them through France!'

Jack's mother shook her head in distaste. 'Bloody foreigners! Why can't they burn their own livestock for a change?'

Jack surged to his feet, casting the newspaper aside. 'Don't you see what this means?'

'Yes,' his mother replied, voice thick with resentment. 'Lamb chops'll be going up in price again.'

'It's much more serious than that mother,' Jack said. 'Reality is seeping into the Kingdom. A reality that threatens to alter the balance of our nursery rhyme world forever.'

'You're just being paranoid,' Jack's mother said, handing him the food tray. 'Now eat your dinner before it gets cold.'

Jack stared long and hard at the yellow plastic-like substance sat upon the plate. 'This isn't pudding and pie...' he said eventually.

'I thought it was time for a change. You need variety in your diet; nice bit of tagliatelle should go down a treat.'

'Little Jack Horner sat in the corner, eating his tagliatelle?' Jack's expression hardened. 'Don't you see, mother? It's affecting you too.' Setting the tray down on the table, he strode from the room out into the hallway, heading for the front door.

'Where do you think you're going?' his mother said, trailing along behind. 'You've never left that corner before, let alone the house.'

'Something has to be done to prevent reality from infecting the rest of the Kingdom. I must get word to the King, convince him to spread a message of warning throughout the populace before it's too late.'