The Hollow Chocolate Bunnies of the Apocalypse

by Robert Rankin

As almost sober as.

  24

  It was nearing midnight now. Toy City was still. Remarkably still, really. But then, folk were keeping off the streets after dark. There was a killer on the loose. And the fact that this killer had performed all the killings so far during the hours of daylight had nothing to do with anything. Killers always strike around midnight. Everyone knows that.

  ‘I think I behaved rather badly back there,’ said Jack. ‘Sorry, Eddie, if I embarrassed you.’

  ‘No problem,’ said Eddie. ‘It’s as sweet as. But you’re in love, Jack, aren’t you? With this Jill.’

  ‘It was my first time.’ Jack put Eddie down and relieved himself in an alleyway. ‘I wasn’t thinking straight.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with young love.’ Eddie seeped a bit into the gutter. ‘We’ve all been there and done that.’

  ‘You’ve been in love?’

  ‘Don’t be so surprised. Bears love too. Everything loves.’

  ‘Who was she, Eddie?’ Jack zipped himself into decency.

  Eddie sighed. ‘She was beautiful. An Anders Empress. Amber eyes, vertically stitched nose in black silk yarn, beige felt paw-pads, patented tilt-growler that literally purred when you leaned her backwards, and an all-over golden mohair plush.’

  ‘Sounds very nice,’ said Jack as he tucked Eddie once more under his arm and resumed his trudging. ‘Especially the patented tilt-growler.’

  ‘She came from a very respectable family. Her great-grandparents were the bears that Goldilocks shacked up with. They organised the original Teddy Bears’ picnic and owned the garden that all bears go walkies round.’

  Jack looked down at Eddie. ‘What a load of old rubbish,’ he said. ‘And there was me believing you and thinking that you were going to tell me this really poignant story about love lost and everything.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ said Eddie. ‘But she was a posh bear and she was up for it. But I lost my nerve, had a few drinks before I went round to see her. Humped that potted plant by mistake. It didn’t lead to a lasting relationship.’

  ‘Jill is very beautiful,’ said Jack, in a most wistful tone.

  ‘I could tell you all about her,’ said Eddie. ‘It’s a sad story. But now’s not the time; we’re almost at the toymaker’s house.’

  ‘Are you up for it then?’ Jack set Eddie down.

  ‘I’m all but pooing myself,’ said Eddie Bear. ‘I greatly fear the toymaker, as you know. And now more than ever. So remember what you said you’d do. Engage him in casual conversation and subtly draw him into a theological discussion. Then put my theory to him in a hypothetical manner, which will not imply any implicit knowledge on our part as to his potential status as a deity.’

  ‘I said that?’

  ‘You did. Do you think you can do it?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Jack. ‘Trust me.’

  The two trudged up the gravel drive, Jack’s trudge making big trudge sounds and Eddie’s making lesser. When they reached the big front door, Jack reached out for the knocker.

  ‘You again,’ said Peter. ‘This won’t do. Clear off.’

  ‘We have to see the toymaker.’ Jack’s hand hovered near the knocker. ‘We don’t have time to bandy words with you.’

  ‘Bandy words?’ Peter laughed. ‘Don’t come that high and mighty talk with me. The toymaker isn’t home. He’s gone away.’

  ‘The lights are on,’ said Eddie.

  ‘That’s to discourage burglars,’ said Peter. ‘If you leave your lights on, burglars think you’re at home; everyone knows that.’

  ‘Even burglars?’

  ‘No, of course not. Burglars don’t know that. How would they know that? Who’d be likely to tell them?’

  ‘I’m sure I wouldn’t,’ said Eddie. ‘What about you, Jack?’

  ‘I wouldn’t tell them.’ Jack’s hand moved closer to the knocker.

  ‘But there’s no one home,’ said Peter.

  ‘We’re burglars,’ said Eddie. ‘How are we supposed to know that?’

  ‘Burglars?’ Peter’s face took on that horrified look once more. ‘Burglars! Help! Help! Alarm! Alarm!’ And he took to knocking most loudly.

  And at length the front door opened and the ancient face of the toymaker peered out into the night.

  ‘Who is knocking so loudly?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s Peter,’ said Jack. ‘Anxious to admit us.’

  ‘Burglars,’ said Peter. ‘Call the policemen.’

  ‘They’re not burglars,’ said the toymaker. ‘Come in, will you? And calm yourself, Peter, please.’

  ‘But …’ went Peter. ‘But.’

  ‘Perhaps you should get yourself a bell,’ said Jack, smiling in a most friendly manner.

  ‘A bell?’ The toymaker beckoned Jack and Eddie inside. ‘A most novel idea. But as no one other than yourselves ever comes to call, a wasted expense, I think.’ The toymaker closed the big front door, leaving Peter alone with his thoughts, then led Jack and Eddie along the narrow corridor and into his workshop. ‘This is a most pleasant surprise,’ he told them. ‘Has something else happened to you, little bear?’

  ‘He’s a bit wobbly,’ said Jack. ‘He hasn’t been walking too well. I thought you might be kind enough to take another look at him. Eddie didn’t want to bother you; he holds you in such high esteem.’

  ‘I do,’ said Eddie. ‘We all do. All of us.’

  ‘That’s very nice,’ said the toymaker. ‘But I do not wish to be held in high esteem. I’m only a humble toymaker. Sit down, sit down.’

  Jack sat down in the comfy chair.

  ‘Get your bum off me,’ it said.

  ‘Manners,’ said the toymaker. The chair made grumbling sounds.

  Eddie sat down on the floor.

  ‘You’re more than just a toymaker, sir,’ said Jack.

  ‘Anders,’ said the toymaker. ‘Call me Anders.’

  ‘I think I’ll stick with sir, if you don’t mind, sir. Because you are more than just a toymaker, as you well know. You bring life to these toys.’

  ‘Science,’ said Mr Anders Anders. ‘Science, not magic. I told you before: when things are not as they appear to be, it’s because they’re actually simpler than you think them to be. Things are never as difficult and complicated as folk believe. You’d be surprised just how straightforward and obvious things really are. The secret is in knowing how to look at them the right way.’

  ‘Well, however it’s done,’ said Jack, ‘it makes you very special.’

  ‘Everyone is special,’ said Anders Anders. ‘It’s just that most folk are unaware how special they really are, or just how special are the folk around them. If they were aware, they’d be far nicer to each other, don’t you think?’

  ‘I’m certain you’re right,’ said Jack, who now felt himself to be drowning in a pond of platitudes.

  ‘Not that they aren’t nice,’ the toymaker continued. ‘Of course they’re nice. Folk are nice. It’s just that they could be even nicer. Things could be perfect. I’m an idealist; forgive an old man for his ideals.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Jack. ‘Yes, indeed.’

  ‘So why are you here?’ The toymaker leaned his ancient frame against his workbench and tinkered about with a small wooden horse. ‘I stuffed the little bear’s legs but yesterday; they should be good for more than a while.’

  ‘Sir,’ said Jack, ‘there’s big trouble; you need to know about it.’

  ‘Big trouble?’ said the toymaker. ‘What can that be?’

  ‘In your city, sir.’

  ‘My city?’ The toymaker made a most surprised face. ‘Toy Town is a town. Hardly a city.’

  ‘It’s a city, sir. A big city now.’

  ‘I should get out more,’ said the toymaker, tinkering at the horse’s tail. ‘Perhaps I spend too much time working. But I want to get things right, you see. It’s the details that count; this horse’s tail, for instance. I can’t make up my mind exactly how many hairs it needs. It’s all in the details. I want every
thing to be right. Perfect. Everything.’

  ‘Folk are dying,’ Jack said. ‘Folk are being killed, here in Toy City.’

  ‘Being killed?’ The toymaker shook his snowy head. ‘Not here in Toy Town. You must be mistaken, young man.’

  ‘There’s a murderer,’ Jack said.

  ‘Jack,’ said Eddie. ‘Slow down. Think.’

  ‘He needs to know the truth,’ said Jack. ‘He must be told.’

  ‘Yes, but …’

  ‘Yes, but what?’ the toymaker asked. ‘What is this all about?’

  ‘A murderer,’ said Jack, ‘in your city.’

  ‘No,’ said the toymaker shaking his snowbound head once more. ‘We don’t have murderers in Toy Town. Toys are naughty sometimes, but the jolly red-faced policemen give them a good telling-off when they are.’

  ‘No,’ said Jack. ‘It’s not like that. Those jolly red-faced policemen gave me a good kicking. Would you like to see the bruises?’

  ‘I don’t think I would.’ The toymaker put down his wooden horse. ‘You seem to be a very angry young man. I think perhaps you should go.’

  ‘No, sir,’ said Jack. ‘You have to understand what is going on out there in your city. Bad things. Toys and people aren’t nice to each other. They’re not nice and now there’s a murderer. Humpty Dumpty is dead. And Boy Blue and …’

  ‘Stop,’ said the toymaker. ‘Young man, stop. You are saying terrible things. I don’t wish to hear them.’

  ‘You have to hear them. We’ve come to warn you.’

  ‘Are you threatening me?’

  ‘No, not that. Anything but that.’

  ‘I think I must ask you to leave.’

  ‘Eddie, tell him. Tell him your theory.’

  ‘You have a theory, little bear?’

  ‘No, sir,’ said Eddie.

  ‘Tell him, Eddie.’

  ‘Shut up, Jack.’

  ‘But this is what we came here for. It’s important. It couldn’t be more important.’

  ‘The toymaker is a busy man. He doesn’t have time to listen to us.’

  ‘What?’ said Jack. ‘What? What’s the matter with you, Eddie? Tell him. Tell him what you think.’

  ‘I can’t,’ whispered Eddie.

  ‘Then I’ll tell him.’

  ‘No,’ said Eddie.

  ‘Yes,’ said Jack. ‘It’s your brother, sir. Your evil twin.’

  Eddie hid his face.

  ‘He’s out to take over Toy City. He’s killing off all the nursery rhyme characters and—’

  ‘Enough.’ The toymaker raised his wrinkled hands. ‘Enough of this awful talk. I believe you’ve been drinking, young man.’

  ‘I’ve drunk myself sober.’

  ‘I think not. Kindly take your leave.’

  ‘But you have to listen. He’ll kill you too.’

  ‘Young man, I do not have a brother, let alone an evil twin, as you are suggesting. Now I suggest that you go home to bed.’

  ‘No,’ said Jack. ‘You’ve got to listen. You’ve got to understand.’

  ‘Goodnight,’ said the toymaker. ‘Goodnight to you.’

  Jack and Eddie were ushered away from the workroom. From the corridor. From the toymaker’s house.

  They stood once more upon the gravel drive.

  In the moonlight.

  Looking at each other.

  ‘Well,’ said Eddie.

  ‘Well what?’ said Jack. ‘Well, that might have gone a little better, don’t you think?’

  ‘Well,’ said Jack.

  ‘You buffoon!’ Eddie threw up his paws. ‘You craven gormster. You did it all wrong. You couldn’t have done it wronger. That was as wrong as wrong as … as …’

  ‘I wasn’t wrong,’ said Jack. ‘He just wouldn’t listen.’

  ‘Unbelievable,’ said Eddie. ‘You are unbelievable.’

  ‘Me? You just sat there saying nothing. You could have backed me up.’

  ‘No, I couldn’t,’ Eddie said. ‘I just couldn’t, not to him.’

  ‘All right,’ said Jack. ‘I understand. But what are we going to do now? He said that he didn’t have a brother. You’ve got it all wrong, Eddie. I told you it was a silly theory.’

  ‘Hm,’ said Eddie. ‘Well it’s still the best theory I have and I’m sticking with it until I have a better one. But you’ve met the toymaker twice now, Jack. You can see that he’s lost touch with what’s going on in Toy City. Perhaps he’s forgotten that he has a brother. It’s possible.’

  ‘Barely possible.’ Jack rubbed at his arms. ‘I’m cold,’ he said. ‘Let’s go back to the office for some sleep. We’ll have another think in the morning.’

  ‘By which time more people may be dead.’

  ‘Then what do you suggest?’

  ‘I suggest we go back to Miss Muffett’s.’

  ‘But Miss Muffett’s isn’t there any more.’

  Eddie tapped at his head. ‘Bear with me on this one,’ he said. ‘I have a theory. Something the toymaker said struck a certain chord, as it were. I’d like to test a hypothesis.’

  Jack shrugged and turned up his collar. ‘Let’s make it quick then, it’s really getting nippy.’

  ‘We’ll be as quick as,’ said Eddie. ‘Follow me.’

  ‘And don’t hurry back,’ called Peter.

  25

  The lower reaches of Knob Hill, that spread around and about and somewhat below the toymaker’s house, glittered in the moonlight. A little star went twinkle, twinkle. It was all very picturesque.

  Eddie led Jack to the spot where, earlier that day, they had viewed the place where Miss Muffett’s house should have been, but wasn’t.

  ‘There,’ said Eddie. ‘I’m sure I’m right. What do you see, Jack? Tell me.’

  ‘Trees and flowers and bushes and hillside,’ said Jack. ‘Exactly the same as before.’

  ‘Exactly the same?’

  ‘Exactly the same.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Eddie.

  ‘I’m missing something, aren’t I?’

  Eddie nodded. ‘Something very obvious.’

  Jack took a second look. ‘Then I don’t know what,’ he said.

  ‘What about the trees, Jack, and the flowers?’

  ‘They’re exactly the same.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Eddie. ‘But they shouldn’t be, should they? The trees should have dark shadows under them now and the flowers should all be closed up for the night.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Jack. ‘You’re right.’

  ‘Remember what the toymaker said? “When things are not as they appear to be, it’s because they’re actually simpler than you think them to be. The secret is in knowing how to look at them the right way.” ’

  ‘I remember him saying that, but I thought he was just fobbing me off with a lot of platitudes.’

  ‘Not the toymaker.’ Eddie shook his head. ‘But it set me to thinking about the vanishing house. And then it came to me: it was all simple; you just had to know how to look at it. This is fake, Jack. All this: the trees, the flowers, the hillside. It’s a big painting, like a theatrical backdrop. It’s been put up here to fool folk. To fool the murderer.’

  ‘To hide Miss Muffett’s house?’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Eddie. ‘Come on, let’s see if I’m right.’

  They approached the trees and the flowers and the hillside and …

  ‘Oh,’ said Jack, as his face made contact with canvas. ‘You’re right. But that’s absurd. How could we have been fooled by something as simple as this?’

  ‘Because we weren’t looking for it.’

  ‘Yes, but.’

  ‘Come on,’ said Eddie, ‘follow me.’

  ‘Where are you? Oh.’

  Eddie was wriggling under the canvas. Jack knelt down and followed him.

  ‘A remarkably good painting,’ said Jack when he emerged on the other side of the vast canvas. ‘And that would be Miss Muffett’s mansion, would it?’

  Eddie dusted himself down. ‘That’s the kiddie,’ said he
. ‘And it should appeal to you; it’s one of the houses that Jack built.’

  ‘Jack?’ said Jack.

  ‘As in the rhyme, This is the house that Jack built. He didn’t build too many, because he was a pretty rubbish architect and most of them fell down. He always insisted upon there being a cow with a crumpled horn in the living room.’

  Jack nodded dumbly and stared at the house and the garden that surrounded it.

  Miss Muffett’s mansion by moonlight was wondrous to behold. It resembled a vast wedding cake: tier upon tier of white stucco, with supporting Doric columns. Before it stood a row of white marble statues, pretty maids all. Manicured trees were hung with countless silver bells and cockleshell motifs abounded in the paving stones and low walls.

  ‘Garden design by Mary Mary,’ said Eddie. ‘She has her own garden make-over show on Toy City TV.’

  ‘I’m somewhat puzzled by that.’ Jack pointed to a huge sculpture that dominated the very centre of the garden. It more than resembled a massive raised phallus.

  ‘She always puts something like that in whatever garden she designs. To prove just how “contrary” she is. It’s a studied eccentricity thing. Frankly, I think it’s rubbish. The garden and the house.’

  ‘I love them,’ said Jack.

  ‘We really must sit down sometime over a beer and discuss your tastes in architecture.’

  ‘No, we mustn’t,’ said Jack. ‘But when I build my palace, it will look a lot better than this. Shall we have a sneak around and see what we can see?’

  ‘Well,’ said Eddie, his words all growly whispers, ‘now that we’re here … I’m … er … I’m …’

  ‘What’s up with you?’ Jack whispered back.

  ‘You have a sneak around; I’ll wait here.’

  ‘Something’s bothering you. You’re afraid.’

  ‘I’m afraid of no man.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘There’s something out there, and it ain’t no man.’

  ‘That sounds somehow familiar, but what are you talking about?’

  ‘It’s the spider, Jack. Miss Muffett’s spider. It’s really big, with horrible hairy legs. It’s the spider in her rhyme. They live together.’

  ‘What, it’s like, her pet?’

  ‘Not as such. But in a way, I suppose.’