Cousin Spot, this really is too much!

The only evidence was in the toaster.

Wait. That’s not entirely true. The only evidence was also oozing out of the toaster and seemed to be increasing in quantity.

Moments before, Algernon had dropped a fresh crumpet into the toaster and pushed the lever down. Cousin Spot, the family poltergeist, chose this precise moment to appear. Algie screamed, whirled and disappeared in a blinding flash along with Cousin Spot!

The only sign of what had happened to either of them was the volume of loathsome, slimy ectoplasm slowly erupting from the little toaster’s orifices. What to do?

I moved hesitantly across the room and looked down into the toaster.

The crumpet popped, of course. And struck me about the nose, depositing ectoplasm sufficient to make me lose my own breakfast. Violently.

I have now lost my brother. I have now lost my breakfast.

And, I don’t mind telling you, I now feel, in all sorts of ways I cannot begin to express adequately, unclean

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