by Paul Cude
'What a typically human thing to do,' he thought, glad that it wasn't just him that had picked up more than a few of their mannerisms.
Arriving at Salisbridge, the monorail was on time to the second. Last to leave the carriage and step out onto the pristine, shining surface of the station, he quickly headed through the crowds, not for the first time today, wishing that he'd brought a jacket of some sort to hide the sling from everybody. Ignoring the delicious aromas of food that wafted across the plaza, he headed for the smallest exit that would take him back to his house.
Moments later he reached the underground entrance to his home, gingerly slipping through the small gap in the wall, before heading up the darkened path and the clumsy looking steps. As he got within reach of the solid block of rock that barred the way in front of him, it started to move silently aside, apparently without him having done anything at all.
'Ah,' he thought, 'looks like the 'relatives' are waiting. Hope my dinner's on the table... hmmm... fat chance of that.'
Striding into the dusty cellar, lit only by a cascade of light flooding down from the top of the black ornate staircase in one corner, he could just make out a frail old lady, dressed in a cardigan, skirt and slippers, standing off to one side. Huge glasses hung from the end of her twisted nose, small straggly hairs littering her jaw line. She could have been anyone's favourite old grandma. She wasn't. In fact, she was everyone's worst nightmare.
"Hi," ventured Peter, more cheerily than he actually felt. "Thanks for opening the door."
"You've been gone quite a long time," the old woman grumbled in rather a gruff voice.
"Just went for a walk and stopped off at the nursery ring, that's all."
"Ten more days and you'll be back on your own. No more babysitting for us... thank God."
Sliding silently shut, the rock door behind Peter made some of the cobwebs in the cellar sway as it did so. The old lady gestured for Peter to go up the spiral staircase ahead of her, he obliged, poking his head, and then the rest of his body, through into the living room of his house. Bounding up two steps at a time, the old lady followed. Once they were both through and out of the way, she yanked hard on the Galileo thermometer that sat on top of the light coloured piano. Sliding around in an arc, the piano came to a rest atop the entrance to the dusty old cellar.
Across the sitting room, lounging on the sofa, next to a pile of discarded knitting, sat a very similar looking old woman, albeit slightly more colourful. This one wore luminous yellow tights with a bright red skirt, a shockingly blue shirt and a pink tank top. The ever inclusive facial hair once again raised itself, but this time instead of a tickly beard, this one had more of a moustache, something Magnum PI would have been proud of.
'Nearly all the colours of the rainbow,' Peter mused, looking over her attire. 'I think a unicorn must have swallowed a rainbow and then thrown up all over her, and her pet moustache.'
Unfortunately, these dear women were experts at reading thoughts amongst other things, and had no doubt picked up on both of these ideas, at least that's what he'd heard, anyway.
"There I was thinking I looked quite dashing," quipped Mildred, in a very confused Scottish accent, from the sofa.
"Ohhh... you do dear, you do," replied June gruffly, from behind Peter.
Flashing them his best false smile, he'd become bored many weeks ago with the very strange banter that the two of them shared.
Both old ladies (dragons in reality) had been waiting for him when he came home from hospital, a little over four weeks ago. Posing as his Aunt Mildred and her best friend June, the two were in fact highly placed members of the King's Guard, both there in case Manson or any of his cohorts should try to come back and harm him, something he hadn't thought too much about until he'd met these two. Every time he looked at them, all he could think about was his nemesis returning to exact revenge. They were constant reminders of the battle that he'd fought and how his life had now changed forever.
June threw herself down on the sofa next to Mildred, causing the discarded knitting to jump into the air as she did so. Picking up the television remote control, she switched on 'Deal Or No Deal,' their favourite programme, before turning towards Peter.
"Get the tea on then, oh gorgeous nephew of mine."
Both turned back to the television, giggling hysterically.
'Playing their parts just a little too well,' he thought, skulking off towards the kitchen. 'Ten more days, only ten more days to go... it's going to feel like a hundred, I just know it is. All I want is for things to be back to normal.'
Sitting down at the kitchen table, Peter held his head in his good hand, the sound of Noel Edmonds leaking through from the living room.
'It's no good, I have to get out or I'm gonna go insane,' he thought, frustrated. Carefully he pulled his phone out of his trouser pocket, no mean feat with only one good hand and very tight jeans on. Retrieving it, he one-handedly sent Tank a text pleading with him to help him out. Waiting five minutes, hoping that his friend would respond straight away, after no reply he decided he was probably still working hard at the Mantra Emporium, in which case there would be no phone signal for him to have gotten the message.
Rising from the table, his arm in the sling noticeably started to hurt quite a lot. The pain from the wound would generally come and go, but now it throbbed agonisingly. Using his limited dragon powers he tried his best to heal it, but just like all the other times, it made very little difference.
Abruptly, a shout from the living room interrupted his healing effort.
"Any closer with that tea yet nephew?" shouted Mildred over the television. June laughed in the background.
Everything was unexpectedly interrupted by the front doorbell ringing. Immediately June tottered down the hall towards the door. Mildred, up from the sofa, signalled to Peter to stay in the kitchen, something he knew better than to argue with, despite the fact that he knew who it was at the front door. The echo of the security chain resounded up the hall, followed by the creak of the door opening.
"Hello there June," mocked Tank, pushing his way past the old lady's squat frame, patting her on the head as he did so. June snarled at the young rugby playing dragon after she closed the door. Peter bounded down the hallway, his arm aching as he did so.
"Pete, how are you?" asked Tank.
Rolling his eyes, Peter hoped he would take the hint.
"Ahh... you know, okay I suppose."
Tank's eyes sparkled just a little, having picked up on his friend's predicament. Then he came out with the words Peter longed to hear more than anything else in the world at that moment.
"Fancy coming to the sports club for a drink?"
Injury or not, he nearly wet himself with excitement.
"That would be fantastic."
"Hrrrhhh... hrrrhhh," coughed Mildred from the entrance to the living room.
"What harm can it do... really?" pleaded Peter.
Both old ladies sidled up to Tank, giving him an evil look.
"The first sign of trouble, you call for help, do you understand?" ordered June.
Tank let loose one of his massive grins.
June smacked him around the shins with her dark wooden walking stick.
"Ouch!" yelled Tank, loudly.
"Do you understand?"
"Yeah... um... sure... no problem," answered Tank, hopping about nursing his bruised shin.
"This isn't some kind of game you know."
"He knows," replied Peter defensively.
Mildred and June, for that's how he thought of them, stared menacingly at the two friends.
"So be it," said Mildred quietly. "But take heed of what we've told you."
Putting his good arm around Tank, Peter checked he had his keys, phone and wallet, before guiding his friend, who was still feeling the pain from his shin, out through the front door. Walking down the garden path, Peter apologised for June and Mildred's behaviour.
"It's okay Pete," answered Tank. "Some of those King'
s Guards can be right nut jobs."
"Sssssssssssshhhhhhhhh," whispered Peter. "They'll hear you."
"I don't care if they do," replied Tank, unlocking the car and then opening the passenger door for Peter. Before Tank could start the engine, Peter stopped him.
"Thanks for coming round tonight. No really, I mean it. It got to the stage where I'd just really had enough."
"I know mate," replied Tank sympathetically. "It must be really hard with those two clowns around all the time. Anyway, let's go and have a drink and a laugh shall we?"
"Magic," uttered Peter, as Tank gunned the car into life.
Five minutes later they pulled into the sports club. Walking across the car park to the club house in the dark, Peter marvelled at the Astroturf pitch, lit up with footballers playing six-a-side on it. This was the first time he'd been back since that fateful night and the pitch looked as good as new, if not better. It was odd how not even a single scratch remained from the devastating battle that had taken place some six weeks previously.
Tank caught his friend gazing across at the pitch.
"Incredible isn't it? The thing was all but destroyed, and in only a matter of hours they'd returned it to its original state. The really amazing thing is that," Tank touched the side of his nose as he continued, "apparently they only had two dragons working on it. In the past, it would have taken over ten dragons to repair something that big in that kind of timescale. Spooky, eh Pete?"
Peter nodded his head, hoping to be fully recovered soon and able to get back to playing hockey, something he missed like crazy.
Making their way inside to the bar area, the two friends waited to be served. Peter sucked in the atmosphere even though it was relatively empty. A sudden tap on his shoulder caused him to jump.
"Hi Peter, how are you?" squeaked Janice the barmaid, excitedly.
Tank, ever the diplomat, gave his friend a wink and then shuffled away a little.
"Janice. Good to see you. I'm getting better thanks," he replied.
"I heard what happened," declared the blonde bombshell, nodding towards his sling. "You were so brave, foiling the robbery and everything.
For a split second he had to think about what she'd just said.
'Ahh... that's right. The council put the story out that there'd been a big robbery at Cropptech and that somehow, singlehandedly I saved the day.'
"Well... it wasn't just me," he whispered as Janice gazed across the bar at him. "There were others there as well, and anyway, it's just part of my job."
Peter didn't know it, but at that very moment he might as well have told Janice that he could make chocolate appear out of thin air. She had seemed very keen on him before, and that was nearly two months ago. Here and now, in this moment, she was smitten, something that to his horror, Tank had managed to notice.
"Pint of bitter please Janice," announced Tank, trying to distract the dizzy bar worker. "What do you want Pete?"
"Lime and soda please mate," he replied, still a little unsure of what was going on.
Seemingly from out of nowhere, Richie appeared.
"And a gin and tonic for me please," she added, surprising the two of them.
"Hi Rich," said Peter, as she enveloped him in a huge hug, much to Janice's disappointment.
"Pete, how are you feeling?"
"Much better thanks."
"And a gin and tonic as well please Janice," stated Tank, giving Richie a wider berth than normal.
Janice came back with the gin and tonic, and then Tank paid for the round of drinks.
"Thanks," said Richie smiling.
"No problem," replied Tank disinterestedly.
Peter couldn't believe what he was seeing. Normally his friends got on like a house on fire, but it all seemed to have changed. While he wouldn't describe things as frosty, which would be a little over the top, there was certainly an undeniable air of tension.
"So," said Peter, knowing it wasn't lacrosse training, "what are you doing here tonight Rich?"
"Just hanging out, shooting some pool, watching the sport on the telly, that's all really."
Tank rolled his eyes nonchalantly in a disbelieving sort of way. Richie seemed to pick up on this and looked none too pleased.
"Anyway, looks like it's my turn on the pool table," she uttered, looking relieved. "Thanks for the drink. I'll see you boys later." And with that, she bounded over to the corner and selected her cue.
"What the hell was that all about?" he whispered to Tank, absolutely astonished.
"You don't want to know." replied his friend, sharply.
"I most certainly do," declared Peter.
Tank turned across the bar to Janice, who hadn't moved very far away, and asked,
"Janice, is there a committee meeting tonight?"
"Oh yes," she answered pleasantly. "They're upstairs right now, and should probably be finishing quite soon."
"Thanks," said Tank, taking a huge gulp of his drink.
Peter stood looking at Tank, more than a little confused. Tank smiled at his friend and said,
"Stick around and you'll see for yourself."
Not knowing what else to say, the two friends stood at the bar in silence, nursing their drinks, watching Richie play pool from a distance. When Janice wasn't serving customers, she made a point of cleaning the bar near them, or changed nearby bar mats, not that Peter really noticed at all, he was just too busy feeling happy at being out of the house and away from the overbearing and overzealous June and Mildred.
Twenty minutes went by, during which Peter returned Tank's generosity and bought him a drink, buying one for Richie as well. Smiling briefly when he bought it over, she thanked him and returned to beating some of the rugby players at pool. Wandering back to the bar to rejoin Tank, he remained oblivious to the ever so attentive Janice.
Ten minutes later the clatter of feet could be heard trampling down the stairs at the end of the bar, the committee meeting finished, the members coming down for a drink, as was their custom. Tank raised his eyebrows in Peter's direction and mouthed the words, "Get ready." Not quite sure what to expect, Peter put his drink down on the bar and kept a beady eye on Richie. Sure enough, moments later, he had the answer to everything. Richie rolled her pool cue onto the table conceding the game which she'd clearly been winning, unusual in itself, but the best was yet to come. Vaulting over a chair in her path, she rushed madly over to the bottom of the stairs, and to Peter's utter amazement, threw herself into the arms of a man he vaguely recognised. Catching Richie in his arms, he lifted her off the ground and kissed her passionately.
Open mouthed, Peter turned and looked at Tank, not knowing what to say. Tank just sighed and shook his head.
All Peter could think was,
'This is it. She's finally gone too far,' he thought. 'The dragon council are gonna go spare.' Continuing to watch his friend, all these thoughts about the council and her fate whizzed around his head. The really strange thing though, was that they both looked unbelievably happy, almost as if they were made for each other, which given that they were two totally different species, really didn't add up at all. Suddenly an evening with Mildred and June looked better and better.
Janice stuck her head across the bar between the two friends, noted what they were looking at and said,
"Don't they make a lovely couple?"
Peter swiftly replied,
"They most certainly don't."
A miffed expression on her face, the normally cheerful bar worker ducked back behind the bar. Peter, oblivious to Janice's hurt feelings, supped his drink, while Tank, a devotee of human behaviour, just shook his head.
As Richie and her new love headed their way, Tank let out a sigh and turned away to face the bar, pretending desperately to study all of the different spirit bottles lined up on the shelf behind it, just below the crystal clear mirror.
As they approached, Peter remembered the guy's name.
'Tim Simms, of course,' he thought. 'Plays hockey for the first t
eam but got badly injured and had to miss the rest of the season as a result. If I'm not mistaken he's also the treasurer of the sports club.'
Richie approached, arm snaked around Tim's waist.
"Peter, I'd like you to meet Tim. Tim, this is my friend Peter."
Tim thrust his hand out towards Peter and said,
"Pleasure to meet you Peter. I've heard all about you."
A startled Peter shook Tim's proffered hand, hoping that he hadn't really heard all about him.
"It's nice to meet you Tim. Any friend of Richie's is a friend of mine," he mumbled, noticing Tank's expression from the reflection in mirror behind the bar.
Turning towards Richie, Tim whispered,
"Ahhh... he is as sweet as you said."
Instantly, Peter started to blush, and turned towards Tank who was still facing away, for some support.
"And of course you've met Tank before," prompted Richie, coldly, gesturing towards the strapping rugby player with her arm.
"Nice to see you again Tank," declared Tim cheerily.
Tank just turned his head and nodded, provoking a look from Richie that nearly turned him to stone.
"Anyway, can't hang about I'm afraid," put in Richie, all smiles. "We're off for something to eat. Nice to see you out and about again Pete, and of course we must catch up when you're back at work."
Peter nodded.
"That would be great."
"Good to see you both," stated Tim pleasantly, as Richie quite literally dragged him towards the exit.
Tank hung his head low and said nothing.
Tim and Richie swept through the double doors, out into the cold night air. A very difficult silence enveloped the two friends back inside. Peter had no idea of what to say. It had all been such a surprise. As both drained their glasses dry, Peter piped up,
