by E Day
“It sounds like ‘We want Graham.’”
“That's funny because so do we. Do you think they are collecting disciples too?”
“Let's go and find out.” They got out of the car, and approached the mob.
“Excuse me, but are you after Graham too?” Tim asked one of the torch bearers.
“Yeah. We're going to kill him!”
Shocked the lads walked away from the mob, and into the pub next door: The King's Pub. At the bar they ordered beers and Tim ordered a chicken.
“How are we going to get Graham?”
“Can't we just walk in the front door?” asked Welsh Bob.
“Did you not see the security guards, and the angry mob baying for his blood?”
“Yeah and some of them had sticks on fire.”
“Maybe we can tunnel through from this pub. I'll ask the barman,” said Tim, “Excuse me. Can I have another chicken? And is it OK if we tunnel into the Tulip from here?”
“Chicken yes. No to the tunnelling. But if you want to sneak in there, there is an air conditioning shaft in our toilet that passes through into the hotel. £5 a go. You get a map of the shafts and a torch included for that price.”
“I've only got £10. So 2 of us can go.” He handed a ten pound note to the barman.
“OK heres the maps and torches. The toilets are out back.”
“Hang on. Do we need 2 of each? Can’t we get one map and torch for less money?”
“Well what if one of you plunges to their death, along with their map and torch?”
“Hmmm. OK. Welsh Bob you and I will go find Graham.”
“Yeah and I'll stay here. Drinking. Just in case,” said Alex.
“That'll be a big help. OK Welsh Bob let's go.” Tim and Welsh Bob headed for the toilet together.
“Tim this is a bit gay, going to the toilet together.”
“Well its gayer, going alone and meeting someone in there isn't it? What's wrong with being gay anyway?”
“Well...it's a bit gay.”
“I’d say it’s very gay. But that is OK.”
“Come on.” They entered the toilet together. Poofs. Inside they noticed some cubicles, some urinals, a vending machine (probably selling toys or chocolate), and a grate on the wall. They inspected the grate: through it they could see the inside of the hotel.
“I knew that map was a con,” said Tim throwing it on the floor in disgust, “Come on.” The grate was unfastened and they pulled it off easily. Tim squeezed through, and fell onto the hotel's luxurious carpet. Welsh Bob fell on top of him.
Tim called out: “Graham!”
“Yeah mate,” came a voice from round the corner of the corridor they were standing in. Both Welsh Bob and Tim were startled, but they composed themselves and walked towards the voice. As they rounded the corner they saw Graham, standing in his underpants.
“What happened Graham?”
“I lost my clothes.”
“Why is the mob after you?”
“I think it's my underpants.”
“I think they are quite nice,” said Welsh Bob.
“Graham would you like to come to the moon with us?”
“Yeah mate,” he said grinning. Five down. They quickly placed Graham in a straight jacket and hockey mask, tied him to a stretcher, snuck him out through the pub, and put him in the car boot with Bobby Lumm.
Tim closed the boot, and spoke to the disciples inside, “Bobby don't give him anything. And Graham don't kill Bobby,” muffled laughing.
“Right there's no time to waste. We must get Todd next.”
“How?”
“Well we haven't used the net yet. I expect we could use that. But isn't he in jail again?”
“No. His sentencing is not till next week.”
They drove to Todd's house, and sat in the car outside.
“I don't think we should try such a direct approach with Todd.”
“Why not? It's worked nearly every time.”
“Todd's too aggressive. I think if we ask him to come with us, when he's not in captivity, he’ll run.”
“Right let’s get on with it. I’m just going to go and ask him. Come on,” said Alex. He got out of the car and walked towards the house. As he approached, something he saw made him return to the car, “He's got a woman in there with him. We'll never get his attention: he only gets one date every 6 years.”
“Unless,” said Tim, “we can tempt him out. I've got an idea. Quick: to the nearest pub! Or corner shop.” They drove like lightning to the nearest pub.
“Wait here,” said Tim as he hurriedly entered the pub. After only a couple of minutes he returned.
“No good?” asked Alex, “I know a better one near here...”
“I only went in for these.” Tim threw two packs of cigarettes at Welsh Bob, “Sorry Welsh Bob.”
“Ah!” said Alex, “They are bait aren't they?”
“Precisely. Quick back to Todd's.”
At Todd's they placed the cigarettes on Todd's driveway, rang his doorbell, then ran to hide behind Welsh Bob's car. Welsh Bob was ready, crouched behind his car, holding the net.
Todd opened his door, “Huh faak,” he said. He looked around, and saw no one. As he was about to close the door he spotted the cigarettes. “Huh faak,” he said again, and dived for the cigarettes. Mid-dive Welsh Bob left his hiding place and swung the net, trapping Todd. Alex and Tim walked over to the net.
“Todd. Do you want to go to the moon?”
“Huh faak, why?”
“It's a long story.”
“OK then,” six down. Seven if you count Welsh Bob.
“Right Ray-mond next. I'll call him at work.” Tim dialed Ray-mond's number, from the executive business phone in Welsh Bob's car.
“Hello. Ray-mond, seismologist.”
“Hiya. It's Tim.”
“Yes I know. What do you want?”
“Would you like to come to the moon with us?”
“Oh so you are going to the moon?” he asked sarcastically.
“Yes.”
“But are you?”
“Yes.”
“But are you?”
“Yes, and you are invited. All of Roy's disciples are.”
“But am I?”
“Yes,” Tim explained to Ray-mond about Roy, the disciples, the Royble, Colonel Tony, Rastas, and football and cakes.
“But....OK,” seven down. Ray-mond met them at Tim's house, “Shouldn't Adrian be here?” he asked sarcastically.
“How did you know that?”
“I'm a seismologist.”
“Oh yeah. Well can you use your seismic powers to find out where he is? We've not seen him since Wright Brothers. He's avoiding me,” said Alex.
“Why don't you look in the Royble?” asked Ray-mond sarcastically.
“Of course!” Tim pulled his copy from his pants, “Wait…damn! There's no index. I know…it will be in the Book of Adrian...Let's see...”Thou shalt not squirt ketchup” yeah yeah...ah here we go. Adrian liveth at...” and Welsh Bob did drive to the address given in the Royble.
Tim got out of the car, and knocked on the door. Adrian's father answered the door, and told Tim that Adrian was in his bedroom. Tim went up to see him.
Adrian was in bed, hiding under the covers. He pulled them back, and smiled at Tim, “Alright Tim!” thumbs up, “I'm just recovering from Wright Brothers.”
“Alright Adrian! That was ages ago.”
“Yeah, but it still sends shivers down my spine.”
“Yeah OK. Say would you like to come to the moon with us?”
“Is Alex going?”
“Er...there's probably a Wright Brothers. On the moon,” said Tim ignoring the question.
“OK then.”
“Right I'll just blindfold you.”
“Is that necessary?”
“I'm afraid so.”
Tim ushered Adrian to the car. He motioned to Alex to keep quiet, which he did.
“Right now we’ve
got them all, where can we keep them until Wednesday?”
“What about at your house?”
“No room. What about yours?”
“But they are so messy. My mum would not be happy.”
“Maybe if we keep them in a cage and put some straw down.”
“A cage is not very humane. We could use a disciple holding pen though.”
“What is the difference?”
“Holding pens are much nicer: they have chairs and a bouncy castle and things to keep them amused.”
“OK let’s make one then and put it in your living room. Do you know how to build a disciple holding pen? I don’t.”
“No, and even if I did I doubt we’d have time to build one anyway.”
“I know let’s look in the yellow pages for a pre-fabricated one,” he opened the yellow pages, “Let’s see. D…Nothing under disciples.”
“Hmmm…what about H for holding pens?” suggested Alex.
“H…here we go. ‘Honest John’s Holding Pens and Disco Equipment. Best Prices Paid…It’s on Barrons Lane.”
“Let’s go!”
They drove to Barrons Lane. Barrons Lane was the number two entertainment destination of Aylesbury. It was a fun mix of industrial units, and houses built near pylons. There were also a large number of casinos, ranging from the tiny “Bob's Gambling Shack” to the eight thousand room “Golden Bingo House” hotel. The Golden Bingo House had hosted many famous concerts, with bands ranging from Mick Pointer ex Marillion out of Marillion to Marillion (without Fish out of Marillion).
Near the gleaming industrial units was a derelict cottage with a small gravel parking area in front. A sign had been cemented into the middle of the gravel area, thus using up much of the parking area. The sign read “Honest John’s Holding Pens and Disco Equipment. Best Prices Paid.” They entered the shop, and found a mess with equipment strewn everywhere. Mirror balls and smoke machines were mixed in with holding pens. Piles of smaller holding pens teetered on rope lights. Infinity boxes and record decks balanced precariously on inflatable holding pens. Amongst all this disarray a small glass counter could just be seen, behind which stood a middle aged man, with thick glasses. His eyes peered in different directions, and he had a small amount of hair slicked over his nearly bald head.
“Do you sell holding pens?”
“Haart?” asked the shop keeper.
“Do you sell holding pens?” repeated Tim.
“Haart? It’s a pole you want?”
“No a holding pen.”
“Oi’ve got those. No thanks.”
“No we want one.”
“Haart?”
“Why does it say ‘Best Prices Paid’ on your sign?”
“Coz we have the best prices in all of Aylesbury.”
“But it says ‘Best Prices Paid,’” said Tim.
“Yes. Oi have the best prices.”
Alex Tried: “Yes but why ‘Paid’”?
“Does it say that? Yes oi think it does. Dat’s right.”
“OK. So where are your holding pens?”
“Look oi’m rushed off me feet here. Have a look over there.” He pointed to a pile of old looking pens at the back of the shop. Alex and Tim walked over to look at them. They were not impressed.
“They’re a bit ropey.”
“Yeah pricey too eh?”
“What £1.78? Seems OK to me.”
“Yeah but that’s for a small one. You’ll only fit at most 7 or 8 disciples in there.”
“Excuse me…Sir,” Tim said to the shop keeper.
“Haart? Are you talking to me? Moi name is John. Honest John dey call me.”
“OK Honest John. Do you have any larger holding pens?”
“How big do you want dem?”
.“Erm for 9.” Tim knew they had only found 9 disciples so far and it was not long until they went to the moon, but he would not let Roy down, and come what may, he would find all 13 disciples, “No…13 disciples.”
“What about the one you are looking at? Only £1.78.”
“It says ‘no more than 7 or 8 people to be held in this.’”
“Is dat not enough den?”
“No 13 is what I need.”
“And dat’s less than 8?”
“No 13 is more than 8.”
“Haart? So it is.”
“Yes well have you got a bigger holding pen?”
“Yes! Oi have one for 8 people!”
“OK well thanks. We’ll try somewhere else.”
“Wait! Oi pay the best prices in Aylesbury. And Oi’ve got one here.” He pulled out a red holding pen from his pocket, “Dis one fits thirteen people.”
“We’ll take it!”
“It also comes with The Mulligans: Tony, Steve and Deirdre Mulligan free.” From the holding pen emerged three giant disciples, each over 8 feet around the waist. They rolled to Tim who pushed them back into the pen.
“Great, what a bonus,” thought Tim. It comes with a starter disciple: The Mulligans. He knew now that Roy had sent him here to find the Mulligans and Honest John, “Would you like to come to the moon with me?”
“Da moon? Where’s that?”
“You know the moon. In the sky?”
“Ah yes. Oi like it. Oi had a noice meal there once.”
“On the moon?”
“Oi tink so yes. Oi remember coz oi had a pint of beer with it. Have you ever tried that stuff? Beer? It’s lovely stuff.”
“I don’t think it was on the moon though John.”
“Mebbe not. When youse going to the moon then?”
“Thursday.”
“Dis Thursday? Oi don’t tink so, I have to run moi shop. Wait oi’m closed on Thursdays. And so is moi shop. Yes oi will go. Can I have a beer on the moon?”
“Yes, if they have any.”
“Great! Let’s go.”
“We will. On Thursday.”
They returned to Tim's house, Welsh Bob's car jammed full of disciples. Alex, Tim and Welsh Bob carried the holding pen into Tim's house. They left the other disciples in the car, while they performed their vital work.
They placed the holding pen on the floor in Tim's living room, “Right we have to assemble it.” Alex unpacked the pen, and read the instructions, “Congratulations on purchasing your new pen. Place pole A into slot A.”
“Done that.”
“OK now place tab B into ring B.”
“What's ring B.”
“Er...it's a ring that has a B on it.”
“Is it this?” asked Welsh Bob.
“No that's a pole.”
“Try putting that into the slot.”
“No that is slot C!” said Alex.
“Calm down. Right what if I pull this.” Tim did. Nothing.
“Nothing happened.”
“Did you expect it to?”
“What if first we take off all the handles?”
“And the candle holders?”
“There aren't any.”
“I think we're nearly done: with a rope or two we could...”
“Nah that's all wrong. Look at the diagram.” Tim, Alex and Welsh Bob stared at the diagram.
“We need to start again.” After 8 more attempts they finally assembled the pen.
“Right we need to test it. Get in Welsh Bob.”
“Why me?”
“You are a disciple. We are not.”
Reluctantly Welsh Bob entered the pen, “Now what?”
“Can you see us?”
“No.”
“Walk to the light.”
“Your mum's £1000 lamp?”
“Any light.”
“I can't see the light. Wait there's someone here. Oh its you.” Welsh Bob had walked out of the pen.
“It doesn't work!”
“Never mind. Forget the pen, we'll just keep them in the corner of the lounge. Behind the sofa: over there.”
***
On Tuesday night Alex, Tim and Dave were sitting in Tim’s parents’ living room wa
tching Tim’s videos on his parents’ Betamax. The disciples sat in the corner of the room, colouring in pictures. Every now and again Tim would throw them some chocolate.
The film the Great Escape had just finished on the tape they were watching. After it Tim had taped various TV appearances of Fish out of Marillion, including Fish answering questions, and waving goodbye on Pop Quiz.
“Why did you tape Fish waving goodbye? Do you love him?” asked Alex.
“No I love you” replied Tim.
Alex threw a pillow at Tim. The pillow missed and hit a rather ugly gold-effect lamp, almost toppling it from its place on an end table.
“That’s my mum’s favourite lamp, and you’ve broken it!”
“It’s alright. It’s not damaged.”
“It cost 1000 pounds!”
Alex laughed, “No it didn’t.”
“Well you’ve broken it now. And Roy said we could use it to contact Colonel Tony and his Battalion on the moon tomorrow to check we are OK to visit, and for him to send us a spaceship.”
“How?”
“I don’t know,” said Tim angrily, “But it doesn’t matter now COS YOU BROKE IT!” Tim stormed out of the room. Alex and Dave giggled. The disciples looked confused.
But then Alex felt a pang of guilt for upsetting his friend and followed him out, “Sorry Tim.”
Tim started crying, “How will we get to the moon now?” He sobbed, “Roy won’t be my friend.
“Listen,” said Alex, “Remember Dave Quill from school? “
“Of course. He was in the sixth form when we started school,” expounded Tim unnecessarily, since Alex would know this.
“Well he’s a professor at Cambridge University now.”
“So?”
“Well his area of research is spaceships.”
“That’s convenient. I bet he could build us a brilliant spaceship to go to the moon in then.”
“Yeah that’s the spirit. And since he always wore the same red anorak at school, I’ll bet he could build a good red anorak for the spaceship to keep it warm.” Alex picked up the yellow pages, “Let’s see – Universities…here we go Cambridge University…Spaceship Dept.” He dialed the number, “Hello? Yes we’d like to see Professor Dave Quill…er in about an hour? OK thanks…bye”
“Great lets go”
“Can’t see him till tomorrow.”
“Oh…OK quick let’s wait then.”
And they did, till tomorrow.
***
On Wednesday they pulled into the Spaceship Dept’s car park, “Wait we've left the disciples alone in the living room!”
“They'll be OK.”
“But...I forgot their litter tray.”
“Alex! What'll my mum say if they mess up her living room carpet?”
“I expect she'll blame it on me. Correctly this time.” They quickly jumped back into their car, and headed back to Aylesbury. At Tim's house Tim spun the car round in a hand brake turn, then they headed back to Oxford again. They pulled into the Spaceship Dept’s car park again, “We forgot to go into your house when we were in Aylesbury.”
