Sentence The Fivehundredandthirtyfourth 

Little Levy Balquhidder had hidden the mobile phone so well that Rilla, his Mummy, really believed that she must have lost it outside the house; oh, she had searched her handbag, her coat pockets, down the sides of the sofa cushions, his pram and even his cot, but found nothing; she put off telling her husband, his Daddy, Rary, for two days, until she was suffering so much withdrawal, that even he had noticed that something was wrong: "oh, mavourneen, don't get so upset, it's only a phone, we'll get you another," he soothed her; "but it has everything on it!" she had wailed, "all my friends' numbers, all the photos of Little Levy, all my appointments." and Rary had sympathised – he knew just how much information he kept in his own phone, how lost he would be without it; Rary remembered that awful time when, just fresh from Uni and in his first job, he had lost his Filofax, which contained every detail of his work and social life, he remembered how frantic he had been, how precarious he felt his existence to be, searching, delving, rummaging, two or three times in every possible place; how he phoned friends and acquaintances in case he had left it somewhere, even the local taxi that had brought him home from the pub. two or three sheets to the wind after a rousing session with his pals, just after Graduation; it had never showed up until, on a brainwave, he had run to the Public Park and the toilet block (now closed) where he had popped in for a quick pee on his walk to the pub and spent half an hour having his first ever homosexual encounter with the older man who had been

in there – first, but not last, for he had subsequently met the man there five times and then – by arrangement – on regular dates in town, or nearby beauty spots, where they had engaged in strenuous sex; the man, Harry, was married and the father of two boys, and their relationship, affair, shagfests, had continued right up until the night before Rary married Rilla; it had lasted four years and Rary, who had never confided in a soul about it, still missed Harry, even now, after two years of marriage and the joys of fatherhood; but he empathised to Rilla over the loss of her mobile and knew that a replacement would only be like sticking plaster over a bleeding wound – it would staunch the blood, but was no true vulnerary, and only time would heal the loss; "look, Rilla, " he said, gently, to his distressed wife: "all the photos are backed up on the PC, you've probably got most of the numbers and stuff still in your old one, and you'll probably get a lot of the other stuff from your Yahoo account; and, give her her due, Rilla did relax a little, although there was still an anxiety beneath the surface; Rary understood – he had found his Filofax and an intense lover to boot, in those toilets, and for Rilla the replacement would not lessen her grief over the loss; what he did not know was that Rilla had been having an affair with another married woman and much of it, too, was documented in the phone's memory – the affair had started before her marriage and never ended, she still saw Gwyneth two or three times a week, confided in her, adored her, depended on her, and the

relationship provided her with what she never got from Rary, unconditional love, and beneath the surface of her natural distress at losing the phone, was an icy dread that someone had found it – perhaps even deliberately stolen it – and now knew everything; of course, she had not the faintest suspicion that the person who had found it and hidden it so well was her wee boy, who was now quite innocently rolling across the floor towards her with the most beautiful smile on his face and who now said: "Mamma!" in the sweetest voice she had ever heard! she forgot her troubles and gently picked Little Levy up and sat him in her lap, showering him with kisses and endearments, and wondering if she should take him with her when she next met Myra on Tuesday; now, as it happens, Little Levy knew all about Rilla's affair – having scanned the contents of the phone during his afternoon nap

yesterday – and didn't judge her, for his spirit, which had existed for so many millennia and lived a thousand lives, knew that it's own path had strayed many times from the intentions of The Creator, who had forgiven it, and could not find any right within it's own being to judge others, and so it forgave as it had been forgiven, while also storing away the information should it ever become useful; but Little Levy had bigger fish to fry, and so during his nap this afternoon, he created several things: his own Twitter, Yahoo! and Facebook Accounts in the name of dadadumpling, using a photograph of his old friend and mentor from 1916 Zurich, Hugo Ball, for the spirit had been prominent among the Dadaists and had taken part in performances at the Cabaret Voltaire and it was in the same exuberant dissidence as the artistic anarchy of Dada that he intended to turn the Borderlands upside down!