Date: Fri, 13 Aug 1999 13:15 -0000
From: Thomas Kidd
To: Red Skelington
Cc:
Subject: Re: Fear and Loathing in the West Country

'...the wierd turn pro' indeed ...well, old chap, the going has got very wierd indeed & i for one am not actually up for it at once...

They've found everyone now - which makes four dead and the fuzz are getting antsy, to say the least. Cannot turn round without catching a blue flash out of the corner of my eye... 'spose they have very little else to do down here... makes a change to from stopping urchins scrumping and repairing bicycle punctures to have a go at harrassing london types... this is the first time the swine have let me send anything out - which is why all as been quiet on the western front... and i bet they're reading this n'all. hello cyber-plod...

Personally i am getting very wierd myself - having hideous nightmares, ever since Wednesday night - you see your oldest friend burn to death, you'll get 'em, believe me... keep seeing black dogs everywhere... black dogs and policemen... jesus - getting like a bosch painting round here...

kept seeing them all the time during that fucking fiasco on tuesday, too... hearing them rather - frightened the shit out of me, i can tell you - persuaded Jolly R to give a little pep tonic and got the fear - spent the whole night fleeing from Black Shuck... even took pictures - about five in the morning on some beach that i later found out was called 'happy valley' - most unappropriate - v. miserable by that point & what do i stumble on but whacking great pawprints - or so they seemed at that time in the morning, strung out on lack of sleep and king hell crank... and maybe, just maybe, all the wild man's bunkum got to me in the end... everyone running around in the masks and antlers and shit... you'd keep seeing them, in the distance - wierd Dr Moreau figures running through the trees, across the horizon, like some shaman's ecstasy... v. unsettling... i think we all got a bit of that... maybe it worked, after all...

still strung out - too. everyone here walking about like zombies - even tthe wild man has retreated to his teepee and does nothing all day but stare at the clouds and get stoned. know how he feels - the queen bitch is getting extraordinarily organisised, even for her - phoning relatives, identifying bodies - poor cow - any minute now the whole facade will crumble and she'll go postal. the holy virgin is totally strung out. both of just sit there and smoke (up to forty a day now) - not saying anything... drinking far too much coffee... almost shouted for Jolly R to go and make some the other day. felt sick when i realised - but maybe that was just the fags.

got to get out of here, but Inspector Wycliffe (or whatever the fuck he's called) insists we don't leave the area - i, for one don't ever want to come back.

poor tom's a-cold.

yours, the ghost of thomas kidd