"What is Freewriting?" they asked. As they leaned forward in unison, the seat made a noise that sounded like a fart. At least I thought it was the seat that made the noise... but one - I think it was @mariannewest - looked a bit shifty, (I suspected she had been eating too many fresh vegetables from her garden). The bare light bulb swung above the chair and I could barely see make out the faces of my interrogators. My wrists were sore from the ropes that bound them, and I was thirsty. "Errr," I croaked, my mouth sticky. "The first rule of FreewriteHouse is you don't talk about FreewriteHouse?" I ventured. I got a slap for that. "Don't be so bloody stupid," one of them said. "We want everyone talking about it! We want to rule the WORLD!!!!" and all of them started laughing like the mad, deranged fools they all are. I will die in this FreewriteHouse, I realised. And no one will ever find my remains...