Sherduck started to stir. He had a thumping headache but he
was pretty sure that something drastic had happened for his head to hurt this
much. He really wanted to throw up; but he had no conception of where he was at
the moment and whether it was socially acceptable to do so. There were little
fragments in his mind of the previous night’s events but none of them were
particularly helpful in helping him to calculate where he was now; but he was
fairly convinced that he hadn’t pulled. A visual inspection then. A table,
circular windows, swans outside. Perhaps he was on some kind of narrowboat. But
why? Only the underworld moved about in boats in the fowl world, which meant
that he was in some pretty deep shit; and it certainly wouldn’t aid things if
he were to add to the pile.
‘So you’re finally awake Mr. Sherduck’.
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