NOTE FROM PUBLISHER:
This was originally published back in 2001; however, we are re-posting so that it can be stored permanently in the new content management software.
The sun was setting over the Cummy Todge public house and a gentle wind whistled across the grass plains. Binkle Bunny sat outside on a bench, the fading light glistening off his metal parts and in his one infra-red eye. “What a beautiful, nay what a peaceful night.”
What he didn’t understand was why it was peaceful. There had in fact been a bomb warning on all the major routes and consequently, not a soul stirred for miles. They had all been hoaxes but the public was doomed not to know this because the only real bomb had ben planted in the bomb co-ordinating office and it had gone off, taking the computer with t. So the police carried on blowing up peoples sandwiches, briefcases, idly parked cars and larm clocks (They knew that was what they were, but they carried on anyway because it as un) and the major routes remained closed.
Presently, Neds Bernneville thundered into the distance and to Binkles amazement, thundered past with no one on board. “Well there’s something you don’t see every day.” he muttered to himself.
Shortly afterwards, a battered and bruised Ned appeared, complete with a few minor bullet holes. “Those bloody army checkpoints really piss me off.” he gasped and staggered into the pub. The fact was, the army knew he was legal, they just liked the target practice.
Staggering past the bar, Ned spotted Fauna reading a book. Without looking up, she passed him a first aid kit. “If anyone wants me, I’ll be bleeding in the bathroom.” Fauna replied somewhat distantly: “Ok dear, but don’t mess up the carpet.” Ned really hated it when she got her nose into another “Andy the Owen ” book. They were so far fetched. What bloody biker in his right mind would own a motorbike and saloon car, yet ride around on a pushbike proudly wearing a plastic bucket on his head shouting “The voices! The voices!?” The things written in those books were just too out of this world.
“OW! Bollocks!” he cried in shock. Looking down to see what it was he had trod on, he saw Cyril, the singing/dancing/cricket playing packet of ham sandwiches that had recently become a tenant. “Watch where you’re putting your feet hippy!” it told him and skuttled off carrying a cricket bat. “Thats weird. It isn’t cricket season yet.” thought Ned out loud. With a shrug, he sauntered off to fix his wounds.
An old man was sitting by the bar and he wanted his glass re-filling. “Hey duck! Fill us this up would you?!”
If there was one thing that Fauna hated, it was a male chauvinist pig and she had just heard one talk. One that had been getting on her nerves now for weeks. “Don’t call me duck.” she said in a deathly quiet voice.
“Why not? Your arse waggles like one!”
Fauna gave him a sweet elven smile and spoke in the same quiet voice. “I’m going to give you an oooaarghyabassar for that.”
The old man suddenly frowned in confusion. “Whats one of those duck?” he asked.
With the swiftness of the elven race, she suddenly gripped his face on most of the nerve pressure points, gently but firmly twisting as she did so. “Oooaarghyabassar!” he yelled before passing out on the floor.
Binkle, who had just wondered in, regarded the still figure on the floor for a moment. “Is he dead?” he enquired politely to Fauna.
“I don’t know but I hope you aren’t going to say anything to justify the title of this story.” But it was too late, Binkle had seen an opening and he intended to make full use of it.
“I might have tried to eat him if he was dead but…….”
Fauna cried out a warning to everyone in the pub and they all plugged their ears as Binkle continued: “…….dead people taste funny.” The title of this piss poor attempt at humor now being justified, the cybernetically rebuilt bunny rabbit ordered a pint of coffee with a dash of salt and soda water, then wobbled off into a corner muttering “The chickens, the chickens.”
Meanwhile, a small child entered and asked Fauna for a bowl of curds and whey.
“Pray child, what is your name?”
The little child smiled sweetly and declared that her name was Muffet.
“Well little miss Muffet, there just so happens to be a tuffet up the corner there, but watch out for the cobwebs.” The little girl sauntered off sweetly and sat down on the tuffet, quietly setting about eating her curds and whey.
Presently the light fitting above the pool table began to swing from side to side, the shorts bottles behind the bar began to clatter and small cracks appeared in the ceiling. Gradually the disturbance became louder with the cracks in the ceiling growing ever larger. Then the ceiling gave way above Muffets head, collapsing in a plume of dust, dirt and plaster to reveal what could only be described as a big “Fuck Off” spider. It landed in front of the sweet little girl with its fangs dripping. Without warning the sweet little girl pulled out a huge baseball bat and began to ferociously twat the spider with it. “Take that you bastard! I’m piss sick of you stealing my grub you overgrown hairy tart!”
The terrified arachnid suddenly took off for the bathroom, hoping to somehow fit down the plug hole. Ned had a horrible shock as it threw the door open and clattered into the bath. “Fuck me!” he exclaimed and then turned the shower unit above the bath to full. Surely enough, no matter how big the bloody things are, they always get down the plughole.
Suddenly, just as Ned thought his plight was over, he was confronted by an eight year old girl, eyes blood red and staring in a crazed fashion, wielding a baseball bat that was bigger than she was. Now Ned had just finished bandaging himself up after a shower and he was, to put no finer point on it, starkers.
The little girl, still in a state of perplexed anger and arachnaphobia, noticed that Ned had one of those very same offending creatures attacking his groin. “Yaaaaargh ya bassar!!” she yelled and began swinging the bat into Neds wedding tackle.
When Binkle, (for he was the only one strong enough to hold the girl) pulled her away from him, Ned gasped: (this passage has been language edited) “Golly! The way she pummelled my gonads with that very heavy piece of sports equipment, was quite painful chaps! Gosh, I do believe I’m going to pass out old bean! What a wonderful day I’ve had!”
With that Ned did pass out and didn’t wake up again until the next story.
With the remains of the ceiling swept up, the pub became relatively quiet once again. The ambulance had been and picked Ned up and the little girl was safely being bustled away by some men in green overalls, bound as she was in a jacket whose sleeves fastened at the back. “Spiders dead!….Spiders all dead!” she could be heard to shout.
“I don’t know, what do you think makes people go funny like that?” Binkle asked Fauna.
The elf just shrugged. “Its to be the downfall of the human race I’m afraid.” she replied cryptically. Fauna had been rescued by “Doctor What” in his time travellingfridge freezer and had decided to live in the relative normality of The Cummy Todge public house.
“What do you mean my race? I’m a bloody bunny rabbit for fucks sake!”
Fauna glared at Binkle for she didn’t like any males, no matter what species, talking to her like that. “I’m going to give you a neeeyahhhgerrough for that.”
Binkle furrowed his brow and foolishly asked, “Whats one of them duck?”
With the swiftness of a politician putting his clothes back on, Fauna lept from behind the bar and grabbed the poor rabbit straight in his happy sacks, twisting them as if she were opening a tin of salmon.
“Neeeyahhgerrough!!!” he yelped, spots dancing before his eyes. When she did finally let go, the poor semi-robotic rodent grabbed a soda fountain and blasted his todger with it.
“Well, whatever you call it, it was on the house and on the rocks.” snorted Fauna and went back to serving customers.
Presently a loud crash disturbed the low murmuring of conversation. A distraught woman shaped rather like an egg wobbled into the lounge shouting: “Come quickly! Send for the police! He’s going to jump!”
Fauna ran outside with about half a dozen people and following the womans pointing finger, looked up to the roof where an egg like person stood precariously close to the ledge. “Humpty, come down or you’re going to have a nasty fall!” But it was too late, the egg man jumped off the roof, a bunjee cord trailing behind him.
Now the thing to remember about Bunjee jumping is to make absolutely sure that at full stretch, you cannot possibly touch the ground. Unfortunately, Humpty was just an amateur and this was to be his first and last attempt. At least he had survived his hang glider.
There was a loud crash and the sound of an elastic recoil. The rope sprang back taking the legs and feet of the unfortunate egg man with it. The rest rolled around the floor like a bad horror movie. Suddenly, a battalion of the Kings horsemen turned up on the scene just to make the story more plausible (gulp) and taking in the situation, they sent their medical officer over to check the body.
“I don’t think we can help him sir, I was not very good at jigsaws.”
Fauna asked if anyone else had been trained up in such matters, but it turned out that all the Kings horses and all the Kings men, didn’t have the technology to perform delicate micro surgery by the roadside. Now if it was something blowing up that was required, it would have been a different story. Fauna shook her head and left the soldiers to clean up the mess.
Even later when the body had been removed, a sad victim guest star in anyones story, the Cummy Todge returned to the business of intoxicating people beyond belief. Fauna sat down at the front, allowing Binkle to take over for a while so she could put her feet up. Presently a young girl with a hooked piece of cane and her hair in braids approached the elf.
“Excuse me, but have you seen any sheep knocking about?”
Fauna thought carefully before she made her reply. “AAAAAAGGGGGHHHH!!!” she yelled.