Somebody had smashed something. No one knew what it was or who had done it…

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But in their plush homes they were all wary. They didn’t want to touch anything except things like pots and pans and knives and forks but plates and cups and crockery and vases and mirrors they got phobic about.

“Hi, what about that thing that looked smashed?”

Unable to eat anything off their plates and so snacking from tins and containers and the like they were all phoning and IMing around.

“I feel crap. I feel like I’m going to break something valuable.”

“We could all meet down the all-night super to buy some paper plates.”

“What a superb idea.”

As soon as they had entered the supermarket and got to the paper-plate aisle a giant meteor crashed into the building and they were killed by falling debris.

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