Brussel sprouted in Crowcombe, from a seed borne on the wind from Corfe. His green skin shivered in the night air beneath the lit windows of the Carew Arms. It looked warm inside, a hubbub of laughter. In a garden away from the #chaos, he stole clothes from a washing line
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Brussel had barely found fitting shirt and trousers on the washing line, when a blast of buckshot hit a hanging sheet. I hate sprouts, especially those with legs n arms! Cried a shadow of a man in the lit backdoor. Another blast sounded, and Brussel ran. No #angels here!

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He was about 6 foot tall, said Marge. A stranger thing I ain't seen round these parts! A right #demogorgon, he was!

Alright, Marge, said Frank. Best go inside, I'll sort this.

Inspector Bach smiled

A woman inspector! Said Frank. What's the world coming to! Best come in
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