No one has devoured me. Time has gone by and I’m still here, on the bookshelf, staring whimsically outwards at the passing world. I haven’t moved, but my body is changing. I am crimson in colour, supple and I’m developing weird lumps and undulations. I feel less like a meal and more like a plimsoll. My body is strong. The concern is my legs - all six of them. They are shapely, muscular and yet there is something else, something almost graceful and . . . well, it’s a little delicate to explain. You see . . . I have a shocking secret . . .

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