162- The Man Who Liked Dickens

Time of the everyday grind. Have a dream of a life of romantic adventure. Wanna get away from it all? We offer you Escape. Escape. Designed to free you from the four walls of today for a half hour of high adventure.

A jingling across a jungle savannah, your body flaming with fever, while behind you lies certain death, and ahead, the endless torches of perpetual imprisonment. Listen now, as escape brings you evil in walls, classic story, the man who likes Dickens.

You know what it's like for the English. We're forever going off on curious expeditions into the interiors of strange dark lands, having unbelievable adventures and returning at last pale and a bit feverish, but triumphant.

This we do, but we do not invariably wear rather longish, car-key shorts in the daytime, and no matter how primitive our surroundings dress every night in black time. I know this from the only exploration I ever went on, with Dr. Messenger into the Amazon to find a buried city called Demarara.

I remember the night things started to go badly with us. It was our last camp on the river. Next day we would begin making our way south by foot and we'd gone to bed early in preparation for the rigors of the trail.

I'd been asleep on our tube when I was waken by something tugging gently at my toe. I said I'd look sleepy toward the foot of my hammock And then I saw what it was. Oh! Oh!

Sorry. Oh, sorry. What's up? What is it? Something on my toe. Black beast of some sort. Sorry. Did you probably get off? It's gone, Doctor. It flew away. Oh. Did I bite you? Yes, you see. My great toe.