The Hollow Chocolate Bunnies of the Apocalypse

by Robert Rankin

  With a little left over to heap into an existential confabulation of spatial ambiguity installation piece, such as the one currently on display at the Toy City Arts Gallery.

  Jack’s lawyer brought forth evidence that Nadine had been intimate with at least seven dwarves.

  In response to this, Nadine hit Jack somewhat below the belt, dwelling far too graphically upon his sexual inadequacies. He had never satisfied her sexually, she said, because, with his refusal to eat fat, cunnilingus was denied to her.

  This disclosure was met with howls of joy from the gutter-press-reading population. And much thumbing through dictionaries. Followed by even greater howls.

  So much Eddie told Jack as they trudged across town to the rear of Boy Blue’s where Jack had left Bill Winkie’s car.

  He told Jack more when, having discovered that Bill Winkie’s car now stood upon bricks, its wheels having been removed by jobbing vandals, they trudged further across town to avail themselves of the whatever-she-was-that-wasn’t-a-woman’s car, which they had left parked at the scene of the Clockwork Car Company fire.

  And if there was anything that Eddie had missed first or second time around, he revealed that to Jack when, having discovered, much to their chagrin, that the car had been removed to the police car pound for being parked in a tow-away zone, they trudged back to the police station.

  If there was anything else that Eddie had forgotten to mention, it remained unmentioned when, upon learning that the car would only be surrendered to Jack and Eddie if they could prove ownership and pay the fine, they trudged, carless and footsore, across the street from the police station and into a Nadine’s Fast Food Diner.

  It was a spacious affair, with man-sized chairs and tables. These were all of pink plastic and pale pitch-pine. The walls were pleasantly painted with pastel portraits of portly personages, pigging out on prodigious portions of pie – which, considering the alliterative nature of the breakfast served by the toymaker, may or may not have been some kind of culinary running gag.

  ‘I love these places,’ said Eddie. ‘High cholesterol dining.’

  ‘What’s cholesterol?’ Jack asked.

  ‘I think it’s a kind of pig.’

  A waitress greeted them. She was tall and voluptuous, pretty in pink and tottered upon preposterously high high-heels. She led them to a vacant table and brought Eddie a child’s high-chair to sit on.

  ‘I know it’s undignified,’ said Eddie. ‘But it’s worth it for the nose bag.’

  The waitress said, ‘I’ll give you a moment,’ and tottered away. Jack watched her tottering. She did have extremely wonderful legs.

  ‘Something on your mind?’ Eddie asked. ‘Regarding the dolly?’

  Jack shook his head fiercely. ‘Certainly not,’ he said. ‘Do you have any money, Eddie?’ He perused the menu. It was a wonderful menu. It included a host of toothsome treats with names such as The Big Boy Belly-Buster Breakfast, The Double-Whammy Bonanza Burger Blowout and The Four Fats Final Fantasy Fry-Up.

  Jack cast his eye over the Hungry Cowboy’s Coronary Hoedown: two 10 oz prime portions of beef belly flab, generously larded and cooked to perfection in a sealed fat-fryer to preserve all their natural grease, served between two loaves of high-fibre white bread and the soggiest chips you’ll ever suck upon.

  Jack’s mouth watered. ‘Have you any money?’ he asked Eddie.

  Eddie shifted uncomfortably. ‘I’ve done a bad thing,’ he said. ‘And I don’t want you to hate me for it.’

  ‘I won’t hate you,’ said Jack. ‘What have you done?’

  ‘I’ve stolen some money,’ said Eddie.

  ‘Really?’ said Jack. ‘From where?’

  ‘From whom,’ said Eddie. ‘Remember when we were saying goodbye to Chief Inspector Bellis and he was giving us both a hug and saying how sorry he was that Officer Chortle had bashed me on the head with his truncheon?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jack. ‘And I noticed a tone of insincerity in his voice.’

  ‘Me too. And when he was hugging us, I also noticed a big purse of coins in his rubbery pocket. And even without the aid of opposable thumbs, it was such a simple matter to ease it out. And I felt that he owed us for all the torment he’d put us through and …’

  ‘Say no more, my friend,’ said Jack. ‘I understand entirely.’

  ‘So you don’t think I did a wicked thing?’

  Jack shook his head and smiled broadly. Then he dipped into a trenchcoat pocket and brought out something black. ‘By remarkable coincidence,’ said Jack, ‘I nicked his wallet.’

  ‘Waitress,’ called Eddie, ‘two of the Mighty Muncher Mother-ofall-Mega-Meals, please.’

  ‘With the Greasy Chin Cheesy Cream Dipping Sauce,’ Jack added.

  ‘And a double order of extra-fat fries on the side?’ Eddie asked.

  ‘And two slices of bread and butter,’ Jack said. ‘And butter the bread on both sides.’

  The voluptuous waitress departed, leaving the now grinning pair.

  ‘Once we’ve spent all the paper money, we should hand that wallet in,’ said Eddie. ‘There might be a reward.’

  ‘Let’s not push our luck,’ said Jack. ‘What are we going to do next?’

  ‘Well, I thought that after we’ve dined, we might hit a bar or two.’

  ‘What are we going to do about the case? I assume that we’re still on the case? Jack Spratt’s murder is another of these serial killings, is it not?’

  ‘It seems logical. But with the weird woman-thing dead …’

  ‘If she, or it, is dead,’ said Jack. ‘Perhaps she just got up off the morgue slab and walked away.’

  ‘There’s something big going on,’ said Eddie. ‘I think Chief Inspector Bellis needs all the help he can get. Even ours. Which is why he set us free.’

  ‘So should we go to the crime scene and see what’s what?’

  ‘I’ll bet we’ll find another chocolate bunny. It’s as certain as.’

  ‘Tell me, Eddie,’ said Jack. ‘I didn’t like to ask, but was there one in Wibbly’s lower-ground-floor apartment?’

  Eddie nodded grimly. ‘But hey hey,’ he said, ‘here comes the grub.’

  ‘Now that is what I call fast food.’

  The waitress laid the spread before them. It covered most of the table. She returned to the kitchen, then returned to the diners with another tray-full.

  ‘Pull that table over,’ said Eddie.

  Jack pulled the table over and the waitress unloaded the second tray. ‘Will that be all?’ she asked.

  ‘I doubt it,’ said Eddie. ‘We’ll give you a call when we need you again.’

  The waitress, whose painted face was incapable of expression, rolled her eyes and departed.

  ‘Nice legs,’ said Eddie.

  ‘I thought you never went inter-species.’

  ‘One can fantasise,’ said Eddie. ‘Tuck in.’

  And the two of them tucked in.

  At considerable length they finished their gargantuan repast and took to perusing the dessert menu. The Death-by-Hog-Fat Pudding looked enticing.

  ‘Eddie,’ said Jack, ‘there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.’

  ‘Ask on, my friend,’ said Eddie.

  ‘It’s just that, well, you eat a lot of food, don’t you?’

  ‘As well as being noted for their sexual prowess, bears are greatly admired for their hearty eating; there is no secret to this.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jack. ‘But you haven’t got a bottom, have you, Eddie?’

  Eddie gawped at Jack. ‘So what am I sitting on, my head?’

  ‘No, I mean, I’m sorry if this is somewhat indelicate, but what I mean is, where does all this food you eat go?’

  ‘Are you telling me that you don’t know what bears do in the woods? When they’re not picnicking, of course. Or after they’ve picnicked.’

  ‘But you don’t do that,’ said Jack. ‘I don’t wish to be crude here, but you haven’t taken a dump since I met you.’


  Eddie scratched at his head with his paw. ‘You know you’re right,’ he said. ‘Alcohol drains slowly through me, but you’re right. I never have taken a dump; where does it all go? That’s as weird as.’

  Jack shrugged.

  ‘You buffoon,’ said Eddie, shaking his head. ‘Of course I go to the toilet.’

  ‘But when I put my hand inside you to get your growler, there was nothing inside you but sawdust.’

  ‘Oh I see,’ said Eddie. ‘You know all about digestive systems, do you? I suppose you know exactly how the human digestive system works.’

  Jack nodded in a manner which implied that he did.

  ‘Thought not,’ said Eddie.

  ‘Digestive juices,’ said Jack. ‘I’ve got them in me. You haven’t.’

  ‘How come, no matter what colour the food you eat is, it always comes out as brown poo?’ Eddie asked. ‘Explain that to me.’

  ‘Er …’ said Jack.

  ‘Jack,’ said Eddie. ‘Although I greatly admire your seemingly unquenchable thirst for arcane knowledge, there will always be things that you’ll never be able to know. Live with this. Let brown poo be an exemplar. Do you understand what I’m saying, chap?’

  ‘You said chap again,’ said Jack.

  ‘Do you want any pudding, chap?’

  ‘I think I’m full,’ said Jack. ‘Should we go to Jack Spratt’s now?’

  ‘You wouldn’t prefer, perhaps, going for a drink first?’

  ‘If we are going to play by the rules and do things the way that a detective should do things, then we should definitely go to a bar first. Detectives get all manner of important leads in bars.’

  ‘Then we’ll take a wander over to Tinto’s. You never know, he might run down again while we’re there.’

  ‘Check please, waitress,’ called Jack.

  Tinto’s bar was as ever it was: already crowded with members of Toy City’s non-human population. And evening was coming on once more by the time that Jack and Eddie reached it. They were able to gain a pair of barstools without too much trouble, though, because, it had to be said, neither Jack nor Eddie smelled particularly good. They hadn’t washed in a while, nor changed their clothes, and after all they’d recently been through, they were far from wholesome when it came to personal hygiene. Drinking folk edged aside for them.

  Eddie had, however, visited the toilet before they left Nadine’s Fast Food Diner. This was not to have a dump though, but to purchase some contraceptives from the machine.

  Not that Eddie actually used contraceptives. But he did know this really funny thing you could do with them. Which he did on occasions in bars, and which inevitably got him thrown out.

  It was a bear thing.

  Eddie plonked himself down on a bar stool; Jack lowered himself uncomfortably onto the next, legs once more up around his neck.

  ‘Evening, Tinto,’ said Eddie, addressing the clockwork barkeep. ‘Beer, please.’

  ‘And for your gentleman friend?’

  Jack recalled the size of the beers. ‘Six beers for me,’ he said. He had clearly forgotten their potency.

  ‘Nine beers,’ said Tinto, whose grasp of mathematics had never been up to much.

  ‘So, Tinto,’ said Eddie, as Tinto pulled the beers, ‘how goes it for you upon this pleasant evening?’

  ‘Don’t talk to me about pleasant evenings,’ said Tinto, presenting several beers and pulling several more. ‘Did you hear what happened to Jack Spratt?’

  ‘Took the ultimate diet,’ said Eddie. ‘Yes, we heard.’

  ‘What a way to go,’ said Tinto. ‘Coated in batter and cooked in a deep fat fryer.’

  ‘I didn’t hear that,’ said Eddie. ‘Do you know where it happened?’

  ‘At the Nadine’s Fast Food Diner down the road. The one with the pretty waitress. Apparently Nadine wouldn’t even close the restaurant. They took away the cooked corpse and she just went on serving dinners. Didn’t even change the fat in the fryer.’

  The colour drained from Jack’s face. ‘Where’s the toilet?’ he asked.

  ‘I’ll show you,’ said Eddie. ‘I need it too.’

  Presently the two rather shaky-looking detectives returned to the bar. They were both somewhat lighter in the stomach regions.

  ‘And what makes it worse,’ said Tinto, continuing where he left off, pulling further beers and losing count, ‘is that Jack Spratt owed me money. Him and his damned secret society. He rented my upstairs room for their meetings and now I bet I’ll never get my money.’

  ‘Secret society?’ Eddie swallowed beer. ‘What secret society?’

  ‘Probably the Spring and Catch.’ Jack swallowed beer.

  Eddie and Tinto swivelled in Jack’s direction.

  ‘What do you know about the Spring and Catch?’ Eddie’s voice was a hoarse whisper. Which is not to be confused with a horse whisperer.

  ‘Not much,’ said Jack. ‘Only that they perform strange rituals and that all the Preadolescent Poetic Personalities are members. Boy Blue was in it. And Humpty Dumpty. And Jack Spratt.’

  ‘How do you know this?’

  ‘There was a book at Boy Blue’s. I saw it.’ Jack took up another beer. ‘Significant, eh?’

  ‘I wonder why they’d hold their meetings here?’ Eddie wondered.

  ‘And you call yourself a detective,’ said Jack.

  ‘Excuse me?’ said Eddie.

  ‘Eddie,’ said Jack, ‘if this was a Bill Winkie thriller, it would now be approximately halfway through. And by this time, all the major players would have made their appearances and most of the major locations would have been established. Tinto’s bar has already been established as a major location in the scenario. It’s where the detectives drink. So it shouldn’t surprise you to find that something pertinent to the case would have happened here.’

  ‘You’re getting pretty good at this,’ said Eddie.

  ‘It’s pretty basic stuff,’ said Jack, ‘for we professional private eyes.’

  ‘You’re right,’ said Eddie. ‘So go on, Tinto, let’s have it.’

  ‘Have what?’ Tinto asked.

  ‘Whatever it is.’ Eddie tapped at his nose. ‘The all-important something that is pertinent to the case.’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘The Spring and Catch held their rituals in your upstairs room. I think you’ll find that they left something behind. Something seemingly irrelevant to you, but of great importance to the professional private eye. That’s the way it always happens in detective thrillers.’ Eddie winked at Jack.

  ‘You can’t wink,’ said Jack. ‘Not with those button eyes.’

  ‘See how good he’s getting, Tinto,’ said Eddie. ‘Attention to detail and good continuity is everything.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Jack. ‘So where’s the important something, Tinto?’

  ‘Well,’ said Tinto, and his head revolved, ‘I can’t think of anything. Except, of course – but no, that wouldn’t be it.’

  ‘It would,’ said Eddie.

  ‘It would.’ Jack took up another glass and drank from it. Eddie, whose glass was empty, helped himself to one of Jack’s.

  ‘I think I have it somewhere,’ said Tinto. ‘Or perhaps I threw it away.’

  ‘You didn’t throw it away,’ said Eddie. ‘Go and look for it.’

  ‘All right.’ Tinto wheeled away along behind the bar.

  ‘What do you think it will be?’ Jack asked Eddie. ‘Key to a left luggage locker? Receipt for something? Map with a big X on it? Or maybe even the Big M itself.’

  ‘You really did read all the Bill Winkie thrillers, didn’t you?’

  ‘All of them,’ said Jack.

  ‘Then I expect you remember how fastidious he was. How he didn’t like his trenchcoat getting dirty. And how much he really cared about his motor car.’

  Jack dusted down the lapels of the now extremely grubby trench-coat and wondered what the jobbing vandals might presently be helping themselves to from Bill Winkie�
�s automobile.

  ‘When he gets back from his holiday,’ said Jack, carefully, ‘I’m sure he’ll be very impressed by the way you solved the case.’

  ‘Ah, here comes Tinto,’ said Eddie.

  And here Tinto came. ‘Found it,’ he said, twirling something between those oh-so-dextrous fingers that Eddie oh-so-coveted. ‘I hope it’s what you’re hoping for.’ Tinto passed it over to Eddie.

  Eddie placed the item before him upon the bar counter and poked at it with a paw. In terms of the looks of it, it was truly beyond description. But considering its size, or lack of it, its weight was unsurprising. ‘It looks like the Big M,’ he said. ‘The Maguffin. What do you think, Jack?’

  ‘Looks like it to me,’ Jack agreed.

  ‘What’s a Maguffin?’ Tinto asked.

  ‘You tell him, Jack,’ said Eddie. ‘You’ve read all the Bill Winkie thrillers.’

  ‘Certainly,’ said Jack. ‘In all detective thrillers, there is always a Maguffin. The Maguffin is the all-important something, the all-importantness of which will not become apparent until its important moment has come.’

  ‘Well put,’ said Eddie.

  ‘I see,’ said Tinto, who didn’t. ‘Then I’m glad I could be of assistance. Do you want to settle your bar bill now, Eddie?’

  ‘No,’ said Eddie. ‘I don’t. But Jack will tell you what I do want to do.’

  Jack raised another tiny glass of beer. ‘Is it, get drunk?’ he asked.

  ‘It is.’ Eddie raised his glass. ‘And when Jack and I are drunk, we will come up with some really inspired idea for solving the case. And then, while balancing upon my head, I’ll show you this really funny thing I can do with a contraceptive.’

  ‘And then I’ll throw you out,’ said Tinto.

  ‘Sweet as,’ said Eddie. ‘Whose round is it now?’

  ‘Yours,’ said Jack. ‘Ten more for me.’

  ‘Sweeter than sweet as.’ Eddie grinned. ‘Same again please, chap.’

  18

  They got very drunk.

  Eddie showed Jack the really funny thing he could do with a contraceptive and Tinto threw them both out of the bar. But as it was late, and they were both very drunk, they didn’t really care.