“Now hang on, that means we’ve got no power right?!” realized Pete, more than a little worried.
“Yep.”
“So we’re just floating along in space now, and wherever this is, we’re here to stay?”
“Yep again.”
“Well that’s just brilliant Slip, no really, top notch job,” said Pete sarcastically, “as usual you’ve really saved the day, oh and by saved, I mean utterly and irreversibly ruined it!”
“Yeah Slip, and what do you propose we do now?” queried Crinkle.
“Well chap and chapette, if you would kindly follow me over to the starboard window, I think you’ll both find the view very much to your collective liking.”
Pete and Crinkle followed Slip over to the window and peered outside. What lay beyond was not one of those breathtaking views that make you appreciate more the gift of life, but rather one of those views you might notice regretfully while reminding yourself to buy milk later that day. The Humdinger had landed on a planet, and was currently parked outside a drab and nondescript city. It was raining, I mean really raining, the kind of insistent rain that would run back to back marathons if it could, stopping now and again only to pour large buckets of water over its head. Pete took in the view and thought quite immediately to himself, I’m home.
22.
Pete and Fendel made their way over to the woods where the horde of vixens had said they would find their old friend and leader, Slip McGroovy. On entering the woods they shortly came across a copse in which one man was addressing a large crowd, to the evident delight of both.
“And that’s how I single-handedly defeated the Co-leen using nothing more than this old leather belt and my wits!” declared Slip, whipping out his belt as he finished, causing his trousers to fall quite dramatically around his ankles.
Applause rippled through the crowd, before the whooping and screaming started. Soon this became a kind of inhuman baying, the noises merging finally, so were one to listen intently, an unchanging melodic chant became apparent, which went along the simple lines of twister… twister… twister…
“Well, this is creepy,” said Pete.
Fendel nodded.
The chanting had by now grown into an incessant throng, Slip waddled around the crowd touching people’s heads and whispering under his breath. Pete and Fendel looked on and it was clear that this was no ordinary light-hearted game of twister, but rather the beginnings of some kind of dark ceremony, of which Slip was the Over Lord. He continued to bestow his blessings on those around him for a while, and then came to halt exactly in the middle of the crowd at the point where Pete and Fendel had first discovered him.
“My people,” began Slip addressing the crowd, “we are here today to give praise to the One.”
Praise the One, chanted the crowd back at him.
“Here in the legendary afterlife of Hupa Hool.”
Hupa Hool.
“We have discovered a truth that goes beyond all truth.”
Beyond all truth.
“Namely that, though we are all dead in this place, we have never been so very alive!”
We’re alive!
“And we should thank ourselves.”
Thank ourselves.
“And thank one other.”
Thank one another.
“But most of all.”
Most of all.
“We should thank our Saviour.”
Thank our Saviour.
“The numero uno!”
Numero uno!
“Original bonbon!”
Original bonbon!
“Yeah you said it first.”
You said it first.
“Indeed I did, Slip McGroovy, me!”
Slip McGroovy, Slip McGroovy, Slip McGroovy!
At this point Slip sat crossed legged on the ground, and an orderly queue formed in front of him, all the while to the eerie chant of Slip McGroovy, Slip McGroovy, Slip McGroovy.
“It appears Slip’s become some kinda demiurge then,” said Fendel nonchalantly.
“So it appears,” agreed Pete, “is he always like this?”
“Yep.”
“Oh okay, so do you still want to see him?” asked Pete frowning.
“Well, we’ve come this far haven’t we?! Come on follow me.”
Fendel and Pete joined the queue and stood together in line until it was their turn to speak with the One.
“Hello Slip, or is it the One these days?” asked Fendel upon reaching Slip.
“Fendel me ol’ mat, what’s shakin?” replied Slip as if they had seen each other only earlier that morning.
“Oh you know, same old, my tenuous grip on reality, you?”
“Not much, just got this new religion thing going for me, care to join, can do you fine fellows a fair discount if you accept me as the one true god?”
“Erm no ta, think we’ll pass.”
“Fair enough chuck, well aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend?”
“Sure, Slip McGroovy, Pete Martin,” said Fendel distractedly, introducing Pete.
“Hello, I’ve heard a lot about you,” said Pete waving awkwardly as he spoke.
“Wait, you guys don’t recognize one another?!” said Fendel aghast, “oh, of course, we’re in another dimension, well the afterlife of another dimension, well the Hupa Hool after-afterlife life of another dimension! Damn parrot of uncertainty, anyone got an aspirin?” he finished finally, having never been that fond of dimensional paradoxes.
“Er yeah, nice to meet you Pete,” said Slip giving him an enormous hug.
“So what do you reckon as to this place?” asked Slip, releasing Pete and restoring some air to his lungs.
“Well, I must say I like it, I found a ruby up my nose earlier,” answered Pete, checking his nose again and finding a diamond this time.
“Yeah this place is great for that, all of your dreams can come true!”
“All of them?” queried Fendel with wry suspicion.
“Yeah of course, look around you, my followers love me, they hang on all I say. Here I have everything I want, any girl, any moment, anything really, anything!”
“Then what was all the rubbish about defeating the Co-leen single-handedly? I mean from where I’m standing, they’re not the ones who are dead here, you are!”
“Okay Fends, I was speaking figuratively, anyway what’s so wrong with being dead? Being alive is so yester-millennia!”
“Oh sure,” drawled Fendel sarcastically, “so you’re saying that rather than being alive and, well, kicking, you’d rather be dead and, ow!”
Slip had taken the moment to kick Fendel quite forcefully in the shin.
“Okay Slip, so you think you’re happy right?” he asked trying a new tack, rubbing his soon to be bruised shin, “well, if you’re so happy, then where’s the team, where’s the Renegade gang?”
“Erm,” Slip looked a little lost for a moment, “well you’re here Fendel!”
“Yeah but I’m not really your Fendel, I’m not from this dimension and Pete here, has never even heard of you! So what happened to the most listened to station in the universe Slip, what did you do with Renegade TM?”
“What did I do?! WHAT DID I DO?!” shouted Slip who was clearly very angry about something, “I did everything I could! Those Co-leen clowns are to blame! They killed them, they killed me, and then they… and then they… “
“Go on,” coaxed Pete.
“No it’s too horrible.”
“Come on big guy,” tried Fendel.
“Well they had our equipment see, so now Renegade TM plays nothing but…”
“Nothing but…”
“Afternoon jazz!” finished Slip and then broke down crying.
“Oh my,” gasped Fendel, “that’s just sick!”
“I know!”
“Okay, so you’re dead right?”
“Yep,” nodded Slip.
“Renegade TM is no more?”
“Yep.”
“Oh
and Slip… “
“Yes Fends?”
“Where’s Crinkle?”
“Oh yeah right, Crinks, well that’s quite a long story… “
23.
Dinkle Mormid was your average Co-leen, average job, average home, average life all round really. Known as Dink to his friends, he dreamed of one day bettering himself, of writing himself into the history books as a great discoverer of something, or thinker of some universe-altering concept. Today however, Dink would have been simply content to hit the snooze button again on his horrifically insistent alarm clock.
“Wake up you creep, it’s ten pings past waking hour seven!” screamed Petunia, Dink’s on/off girlfriend of the past three galactic cycles, deep into his defenceless eardrum.
“Wah, klumpf, schnizigle?!” he replied, lacking the quality of coherence first thing in the morning.
“I said… I HATE YOU!!!” she bellowed, and slapping Dink neatly round the face, left the room.
Dink was awake, very awake in fact. Rubbing his sore face, he made his way across the room over to the window.
“Light,” he commanded the window.
“Good morning sir,” said the window in a chipper voice, “did you sleep well?”
“Yes thank you, light,” he commanded again.
“And how is the Mistress today?” asked the window.
“Fine,” said Dink, feeling the inside of his cheek with his tongue, “light.”
“Aren’t you going to ask me?” asked the window, sounding a little hurt.
“Ask you what?”
“Why, how I’m feeling of course.”
“Erm,” said Dink, a little lost now, “how are you feeling?”
“Well, I’d have to say, I’m feeling a little looked over!” replied the window and then burst out laughing.
Dink stood expressionless.
“I know, it doesn’t really work does it. I wanted to say, feeling a little looked through, but that doesn’t make any sense, still, not bad for my first joke.”
“Erm yeah, very funny. “
“Thank you sir, now what can I do for you?”
“Light,” he repeated again.
“You know we never really have nice little chats like we’re having now do we.”
“Light.”
“I mean normally you’ll say “light”, then I disable the anti-light shields, and you get light.”
“Yes, light.”
“It’s just nice to know that our relationship has these hidden depths. Do you want to hear another joke?”
“No. Light.”
“Knock, knock.”
“Light.”
“Win.”
“Light.”
“Window!” and again the window broke down laughing.
Dink stared at the window which was one of the new personality windows he had seen advertised on channel googolplex late one evening. The advert had promised much more than the normal window experience by offering a window which would knowledgably describe the view that was present through it at any time. It then came with a pre-programmed personality with which you could discuss the visual experience with, the idea being that, one would spend many a stimulating morning discussing the flowers and fauna or a relaxing evening contemplating the stars and what it meant to be part of the cosmos. Dink was certainly not a morning person however, and he also soon discovered that he was loathe to spend an evening discussing the stars in the universe, when he could be sat instead watching channel googolplex and buying the latest must have gadgets he would certainly never ever use.
“I know, I know, that one’s a little abstract,” said the window composing itself.
“Erm yeah abstract,” he agreed distractedly.
“Guess you had to be there!”
Now this was certainly the longest conversation that he had ever shared with the window, and he was filing it determinedly in his mental folder marked “things I never want to do again”. By now he had become accustomed to the darkness anyway, so decided that rather than listen to anymore weird window waffle, he would instead brave the darkness and begin the epic quest to find his slippers.
“What are you doing?” asked the window, watching him scrabbling around on all fours, engaged as he was in his epic slippers quest.
“Looking for my slippers.”
“What in the dark?!” asked the window incredulously.
“Yes, in the dark,” confirmed Dink.
“Wouldn’t it be easier to look for your slippers in the light?”
“Yes.”
“Then why didn’t you say so?”
“I did.”
“I mean all you have to do, is say the word “light” and I’ll disable the anti-light shield and hey presto… “
“light.”
“Exactly! You’ll get light!”
“light.”
“Yes that’s right, all the light you’ll ever need!”
Now Dink knew that he had somewhat neglected his faithful light-giving servant for the last few planetary spins, he did not however do this with any malice intended, but instead because of a complete disinterest in anything the window may have wished to chat about. His living habitat overlooked a park, well a car park, well a wall which contained a car park, and because of this his alpha-simulation personality-primed window could do nothing more than discuss bricks and mortar, and more bricks, and well more mortar. Once a poster was plastered there advertising a new cologne for men, a hunky Co-leen stood under a shower, and the bottle of cologne sort of hung in the middle covering up his modesty, and the strap line read “Pow, the new scent for him, putting the Wow, back in Pow!” As a result, Dink’s window spent every morning and evening describing every inch of the Co-leen’s hunky torso, from his “Adonis like six pack” to his “thunderous thighs”. Dink soon became concerned when one morning he blurted out in sleepy agreement “yes he is dreamy”, and in the end thought it entirely necessary to phone the company and pay a quite significant amount of money to have the poster removed. He realized therefore that his window was obviously having some kind of breakdown. Perhaps he should have spent more time with it, some of the greatest Co-leen minds had been integrated into its matrix, and the only words he had ever bestowed on it had been “light”, “dark”, and “yes he is dreamy”, no wonder it was upset, Dink decided he was not going to be getting any help in his slipper quest.
“Well don’t you want any help?” asked the window.
“No,” he replied.
“But all you have to do is say “light”, and then you’ll be able to see,” teased the window.
“No.”
“Have I done something to upset you?” asked the window after a moments pause.
“No.”
“Then don’t you like me?”
“No,” answered Dink, before saying, “you’re a window.”
“That’s right, and you’re Dinkle Mormid, pleased to meet you.”
“Erm hi, so are you going to help me now?” he asked finally, tired of feeling around in the dark.
“Yes of course I will, just say the word, come on, you know you want to.”
“And if I say it, you’ll do as I say?”
“Yes.”
“Alright then, ready?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“LIGHT!” ordered Dink in his most authoritative voice.
On saying it, there was suddenly an almighty crack, and the window broke into a thousand pieces. Dink however did not observe this as it remained as dark as it ever was before.
“Well,” he said reaching the end of his tether, “where’s my light?!”
“Oh, I wanted to help with that, but… “
“But?“
“I’m shattered!” finished the window, and then roared with laughter
Without saying a word, Dink left the room, slipper-less.
24.
5 CLICKS (MINUTES) EARLIER
“Which one is it?” asked Pete, sounding more than a little frightened.<
br />
“That one,” answered Slip, straining even further over the edge of the building they were on, and pointing at a darkened window on the other side of the street.
“Don’t slip Slip,” joked Crinkle, who could not see what was going on as she had not been able to climb up onto the ledge where Pete and Slip were.
“Is this really the time for jokes?” asked Pete sarcastically.
“Dunno, maybe,” she replied, getting fed up with the situation and by not being able to see what was going on, “what’s going on anyway?”
“Nothing, just a dark window, must have their anti-light shields active,” said Slip.
“Anti-light shields?” queried Pete.
“Vortex charged photon repelling energy matrices that stop light coming through your window when you want to sleep, don’t you know anything monkey boy?!” said Crinkle disparagingly.
“Oh, like curtains!” said Pete.
“What?!”
“Nothing,” he replied meekly.
Pete, Slip and Crinkle’s first move had been to track down where Mormid lived. It turned out that Mormid lived just a stones throw away from where they had landed, well a stone’s throw on this planet anyway, which having less than half the gravitational force that Pete had become accustomed to back on Earth, meant that quite sometime passed until they finally arrived there. On the journey there, Pete thought it only right to find out more about where they were and what it was they were actually doing, he was the Earth’s only hope after all. It turned out that the Co-leen empire had all started on the drab and nondescript planet Spank. He thought this the very pinnacle of all that was funny for a while, but then thought it best to conceal his mirth when Crinkle threatened to remove some of his more precious organs if he continued making bottom jokes. On Spank, the Co-leen lived their harmless and unremarkable lives, quite in contrary to what their future path told. Some notable achievements of the race included something called a sqweel, a square wheel which made transport very uncomfortable; life sized bouncy castles in which their token monarchies resided; and a substance called mirmate which you could spread on toast, and seemed to divide the Co-leen in their attitude toward it. All in all the Co-leen seemed to be about as threatening as a kitten wearing mittens, or as Pete put it, a mitten kitten.
Renegade T.M. Page 11
