If only he had heard that morning's alarm bell. If only he had caught his usual bus to his well-paying job in the city. Head in hands he began to cry.
Meanwhile, Donkey had collected the mail from the front hall, and was brewing up a pot of tea for himself and Donald Quixote. He had also found what he had been searching for; the bag of donkey treats that Thomas had hidden last night when he came home from his weekly shop at Tesco. Donald didn't seem to fancy a donkey treat, and was busy making some toast.
Donkey hadn't achieved what he hoped for by braying into the camera. He wanted Thomas to think that he was crazy, that he had fallen asleep on the bus, was dreaming, and that someone would wake him at his usual stop any minute now. Thomas had interpreted it as a cry for help. It was touching to see how much Thomas cared for him, but with the money from this series he could go and set up a donkey sanctuary in Egypt. His motives were not entirely selfish, although he had always wanted to see the pyramids. It was important that he and Donald acted quickly.
Meanwhile, Thomas devised a plan to escape from the mooncup. He spun round repeatedly and vigorously in a whisk-like motion to thicken the fluid encasing him. Eventually, he hoped it would become so viscous that he could scramble out. As the stickiness increased, Thomas hurled clumps at the side of the mooncup and managed to escape, albeit a bit worse for wear appearance-wise.
Donkey..Egypt..thesis...Where am I ? nO WAY this is not the postgrad forum that I used know..Now wait a minute, maybe I went on time travelling with Dr.Who, into the far away plant of Postdoc and they attacked me with actual published papers and grant money and now I have amnesia or brain injury that imparies the past memory about this place.
...Thomas is now in a terrible dilemma - should he continue his original dream to embark on a fulfilling but poorly paid research career or should he enter the BB house and sacrifice his reputation for 15 minutes of fame and a wad of cash? Will he publish in Nature or in Heat magazine? You decide...
The scaled and spiked monster lurched from side to side, its legs supporting a body too large and heavy to be agile. Despite the monster's grotesque features, which were growing clearer each second, and the fact that Thomas was almost completely overwhelmed by a feeling of horror, he just had time to think that the monster looked strangely familiar. Wasn't it Donald Quixote that he was reminded of? Thomas blinked and tried to recollect his thoughts. He didn't have time to dwell on what was, no doubt, a ludicrous panic-stricken idea.
He forgot without too much effort, as his thoughts turned to an even stranger sight. The monster was now no more than a minute away, and in one of the gnarled, clawed hands Thomas could just make out the image of his faithful pet, Donkey.
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