2 Men Talking

Little did I know that as I flapped my wings to escape before she closed her legs, I was starting a chaotic sequence of events that would result in the collapse of stock markets worldwide.

As a goldfish, I always used to enjoy a cigarette after sex, but those pleasures were denied me as a butterfly. However, I was content to do a fag-by-proxy. And this was where the whole thing began to unravel.

Espying a beautiful new Mercedes open-top sports slowing for a roundabout over the road from the lady’s garden, I beat my wings furiously to reach the safety of the other side of the windscreen in order to enjoy the rest of the drivers cigarette that he was holding in his left hand, whilst he completed his conversation with his broker on the mobile phone in his right hand. It was all a frantic shouting of “sell Dollars, buy Yen; sell Oil, buy Gold.” Whatever was said the other end was met by repetitive guffaws and “Yah …. Yah …. Yah!

Suddenly, and taking me completely by surprise, there was a gap in the traffic on the island and the sudden acceleration literally blew me into the driver’s eye. The impact caused every part of me to contract in order to protect my internal organs. Except the sphincter. There was a small escape of fluid. The rest is becoming history as I blog, and complex molecular biology by the second.

After a brief struggle between the drivers DNA and that of the butterfly (me), the outcome was always a foregone conclusion.

He zoomed off to London. I struggled to a place of safety in the increasingly violent winds.

Meanwhile, my earlier frantic flapping of wings to reach the Merc had caused a slight turbulence in the lady’s back garden which had joined-up with a gentle breeze to form a stiff one. The bloke that called me ‘an insect’ was met seconds later by a cold-front that, together with the stiff one, combined to produce an atmospheric turbulence. As the vortex began to swirl round, it was joined by a stronger wind from West to form a gale. The gale intensified and swept out to sea where it joined with an ever-deepening depression. This depression combined with other transatlantic weather systems to generate hurricane conditions which, being the eighth of the season, was named Hugo. It swept ashore with devastating ferocity and seriously damaged some very expensive yachts. Tragically, one of these yachts was owned by the Mercedes driver.

Upon hearing about the loss of his ‘bird puller’, he immediately withdrew all his funds from Northern Rock and closed all his positions on the London Stock Market at whatever price he could get. This had the same effect as my furious flapping of wings on his fellow investors who similarly unwound their positions. The exit became a rout and the Bank of England endeavoured to quell the burgeoning panic with the instantly calming words “Trust us.”

In the States, the escalating budget deficit together with the sinking of Hooray Henry’s yacht caused a run on the dollar that was countered by hurried moves to devalue the dollar against the Welsh Dinar (which still wasn’t ready). Not knowing where all this might end, the rest of the world responded in the only way they knew how.

The hunt began in every castle throughout the lands, for a butterfly called John.