(Not) A Cat Called Pussy

But for a chance meeting with a Lake Goddess of remarkable charm and beauty, I was going to write a long winding story about a cat called Pussy. Then she taught me something that had escaped the murky shallowness of my excuse for a mind: "With so much to read on the web, the less words one writes, the higher their readership; it helps if one can draw stick people..."

So this is me, writing as little as I can so that you may read me, then tell your friends and neighbours what an under-writer I am so they can also tell others and so forth and so forth and before you know it,  I’ll be back on AdSense pap! Say bye-bye to long travelogue-adventure-rant-caper stories with twists and turns about things you may never get to experience, unless, of course, you are as daft as I tend to be most of the time. 

I may occasionally backslide in this new faith however, especially if the iconic Linus Gitahi has already paid for a long story and put it in The East African (or The Galactic Times!) first. Not personally, of course. He has people for that. Heck, LG has people (for all sorts of things) who in turn have people who have people that also have machines for that - that being little stuff like laying text and pictures for long stories in newspapers, or binning them if they are too short; like this one that's not even remotely about a cat called anything!.  

Ends.