That pure Cane Spirit since 1848.

Thursday, January 26, 2006

Act Three (home straight)

Binty’s momentum carries him to the table, now strewn with Lindy’s books.
Gorilla Bananas is quickly at his side. Pulling off the foam hand, stuffing it behind a seat, undoing the flag, he tosses it under the table out of view.

“Never mind by what road you came," says the kindly Ape, “you’re here now. Sit and give us your opinion. Any sign yet Ayres?”
“The book isn’t here.”
“I was in a hurry I grabbed them on the way out…”
“No Lindy, nothing wrong in your choice. And these are all you have? What about you Andraste? Got a book on you?”
“Only this one, ‘The Joys of Olde Dublin Town’”
“What cunt wrote it!?”
“Steady Barbudo, give her a chance.”
“Oh, em, let’s see,.. Dr Edward Ville PhD…”
“The Necromancer! E Ville himself!”
“Check the page Ayres! Quick man!
“Alright alright…who died and made you fucking king?…If it wasn’t for me…page seven…I cracked the code…me…on my own…here we are…”

... ... ...
“For fuh…read it OUT! Fuck. Cunt. Bastard. Pants of piss. Oops sorry.”
“Easy there, EL B old friend.”

“…a fine night to be had by all at RYAN’S BAR. Three stars.
Ales wines spirits Trad music at weekends. X marks the spot.”

“X marks the spot..!..?..!”
“Three fucking stars? This place? No way.”

“There it IS” points Binty, to the union jack under the table, its two crosses lying spread out now.
“Right everyone, help me shift all this out the way. Clear the floor!”
“Jesus wept..” mutters Ryan polishing his tumblers, trying to ignore them.

“Is he out?”
“Like a fucking light. Listen to the snores of him.”
“Right. Set up the camera, and get the bondage stuff on him. I’m taking Barney for Phase Two. All right on your own with him for a minute?”
“Oh yes. This old shitehawk’s goin’ nowhere.”

'Where the fuck are we going?'

Barney asked, gripping the dashboard with both hands and wishing to Christ he hadn't cancelled his life insurance so hastily even though the doctors had promised the statistical chance of his being hit by lightening again was lower than his chance of dating Cameron Diaz.

"National concert hall!' Fatmammycat - high-heeled foot to the floor- spun the steering wheel and the van took the corner on two wheels.

Barney's life flashed before his eyes...there it was: pint, pint, pint, cup of tea, bacon'n chip butty, pint, racing papers, pint....woosh.

Moments later they shot up a narrow lane and into the back loading area of the NCH. Fatmammycat cut the engine and knocked on her beams.


Barney saw in the sudden flood of light a six-foot rat. It appeared to be wearing jeans and pointy boots, as it stood, nonchalantly smoking a cigarette by the kitchen door.
Barney blinked- fucking Jagermeister, he'd never touch it again. When he opened his eyes he saw that the giant rat was waving at them.Perhaps he should drink more Jagermeister then.

'That's him. You wait here.'
'No doubt about it.'

Fatmammycat slipped from the driver's side and tippity-tapped her way across the tarmac to the giant rat that was now removing its head. Barney was thankful to see another head appear underneath, this one firmly male, if you looked past the eyeliner and the earrings.
There was some elaborate kissing, a rapid huddled conversation and then more kissing, seconds later Fatmammycat back in the van, only this time carrying the giant rat head.

'Holy Mother of the sacred heart!'
'It's perfect isn't it.'
'Perfect, it had me fooled. Who's yer man?'
"One of the gays. He was an extra in Cinderella.'
'They had rats in Cinderella?'
Fatmammycat raised one eyebrow, 'Not that I know of.'

Barney sighed.

'Okay, ' Fatmammycat tossed the rat head in the back.
'Now, you know what to do, keep the peak down low, and make sure you throw your weight about. Lots of, 'do you know who I am, kinda stuff.'

Barney held up his hand.

'Stall the ball there cat, you might know lots of shit about shoes, but I know how to cause a fucking ruckus!'

Fatmammycat inclined her head. 'My apologies.' Barney straightened his cuffs and slid the cap atop his head.

'How do I look.'
'Like TJ Hooker, without the girdle.'
'Fuck off cat.'

She winked and gave him a kiss on the cheek. Moments later the van screeched out the yard and Barney was plunged back into darkness.
'It's show time,' he said, and he set off towards town, altering his natural stride to that of a man with painful gout.

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