After missing the second bus of the day, Owen thought his bad luck was over but he never could have anticipated the angry van driver on the country lane, she drove at him like a panel van driver who hates Christmas markets, but with no Christmas markets to be seen, no sausage to be smelt and no fake snow to slip in; it was clear that she had been behind him missing the buses. He doesn't know how she did it but as she turned the van around on the field next to the path she sped at him again and as the fence post wedged under the bonnet pierced his ribcage he realised that she was the barista he forgot to thank for his cappuccino the morning before.
Owen is one of my Ball Flickers and he is made from rat skin, duckling skin, rat tail and a bit of a baby chicken's beak.
