Have just emerged from an extremely traumatising experience. One which it is questionable as to if I will ever recover.

Was completely abondoned by entire family for at least three whole (yes, WHOLE) minutes whilst trapped in the pantry, shouting myself hoarse. It may have even been five minutes; all time was lost track of as the horror of the situation was faced. Why, why, why would the light be on and the door wide open if there was not a person in the cavern of doom, as it shall henceforth be known, innocently unearthing a tub of icecream from icy depths of freezer? The ease at which I was plunged into darkness and imprisoned (the door only opens from the outside, somewhat of a design flaw) then promptly forgotten about was astounding.
Furious bashings at the door with the mop handle, not to break it down but to cause as much noise as humanly possible to notify someone, anyone, of my existence, ensued. Along with increasingly desperate bellows and, ashamedly, girlish shrieks.
My whole life flashed before my eyes as I realised I could well meet my doom within the gloomy home of biscuits, pulses and cleaning products, half decomposed on the floor, the terror of my final moments still evident on immobile, lifeless face, with the only chance of discovery being the cats mewing and whining at the crack in the door, alerted by the smell of rotting flesh.

Except, that wouldn't happen because as soon as we were out of tunnocks caramel wafers in the biscuit tin someone would have come searching for more in the pantry. Of course I realise this now. Now I am free and have a new appreciation for life and all that it encompasses. Now that I am once again within the world of mortals and no longer of cat food and ironing piles. But at the timeall I could think was 'WHERE THE #*@$ IS EVERYONE?!!'

You would have thought, on initiating the rescue of his only sister and giving her newfound hope in the human race, the saviour would have said a little more than 'God, what's all that shouting about?'