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Bloody Gutter

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Drip drip drip. Next door’s gutter was at it again. The rain had buckled the poor gutter to smithereens, and it was cunningly dripping from a great height onto a sheet of tarpaulin, handily keeping the whole road up. Yells were coming from various sleep-diprived houses, and dogs were yowling. Mind you, it’s not the first time. It was last October when the same piece of gutter broke, rendering the owner of the house, a Mr Siddle, soaking wet as it dumped its load. Then, a few months later, it really went for it, and split in two, hitting the poor man on the head.
Now here’s the 3rd coming. Mr Siddle must be quaking in his rapidly-filling boots.