Rasputin

The blister has finally burst. It had been stabbed, poisoned, drowned repeatedly in salty water but finally only succumbed to the taking out of the rubbish. Evidently the extra weight shouldered as I minced downstairs in my slippers caused enough pressure to finally bring it's short but significant reign of terror to an end. In a way I am sad. I enjoyed talking about it, extracting sympathy for it, and like a Victorian showman selling tickets for a peek.