CHAPTER SEVEN
Crawfie returns to the GIT’s table without his award
and with a sullen expression. His eyes are darting around, taking in the
surroundings and just daring anyone to open their mouths and mention his award.
He sits and downs a whole bottle of champagne in one go before wiping his lips
on the sleeve of his dinner jacket and glowering at The Count who says, “I say
old chummy, it’s only an award you know, you don’t have to –.“
“Shuuuut it,” Crawfie says in a low sort of growl, “I
don’ wan’ ta tork abaht it no more. All right?”
“Of course old chap, bally silly of me to mention it,
bad form all round eh?” The Count says cowering behind Mrs. Flagg.
“Bloody hell,” says Pants, “who is that bloke with
the patch over one eye and the wooden leg? I haven’t noticed him before yet
he’s sitting at the next table to us. I didn’t see him come in.”
“That’s Captain Pete,” says Crawfie, “I don’t know
how he got here either, he just materialised during the last chapter. “
“Looks a bally strange cove if you ask me old boy,”
says The Count, “why has he got all that wet seaweed hanging from his ears and
sea water in his boots?”
“Dunno,” says Joe, “I’ll ask him shall I?” Joe turns
towards the table where Captain Pete is sitting and says, “Captain, why have
you – “ when as if by magic all the windows and doors fly open and a chill wind
starts to blow around the auditorium as the Captain slowly turns his head
through 360 degrees before shouting,
“Listen. The children of the night make their music.
Death is not the worst. There are things more horrible than death. No, you
mustn’t go there. We people of the mountains believe in the castle there are
vampires. Dracula and his wives – they take the form of wolves and bats. They
leave their coffins at night and they feed on the blood of the living. In the
name of our Lord Jesus Christ! It is he who commands you! It is he who flung
you from the gates of Heaven to the depths of Hell!”
The Captain stops.
Marty says, “Thank Christ he’s finished we can – “
The Captain suddenly shouts in a high pitched squeaky
voice,
“If you’re lying, I’ll be back. Take your stinking
paws off me, you damned dirty ape! Perhaps on your way home someone will pass
you in the dark and you will never know it…for they will be from outer space. Who
was that shape in the shadows? Whose is that face in the mask? Second star to
the right and straight on till morning. Make him unconscious but don’t kill him
or damage his head in any way. I need his brain for my zombie! I am sure it has
the right instincts I want!”
He finishes by looking at Joe and cackling furiously.
“Blimey,” says Joe peeping out from under the table, “I didn’t really want to
know that.”
“Look, we can’t all hide under this table,” says
Marty, “Pants, you’re brave; you’ll have to get out.” Pants reluctantly crawls
out and slowly eases himself into his chair being very careful not to make eye
contact with Captain Pete who is still sitting close by in wide-eyed full flow.
“Greetings, my friend. We are all interested in the
future, for that is where you and I are going to spend the rest of our lives.
And remember my friend; future events such as these will affect you in the
future. You are interested in the unknown... the mysterious. The unexplainable.
That is why you are here. And now, for the first time, I am bringing to you,
the full story of what happened on that fateful day. I am bringing you all the
evidence, based only on the secret testimony, of the miserable souls, who
survived this terrifying ordeal. The incidents, the places. My friend, I cannot
keep this a secret any longer. Let us punish the guilty. Let us reward the
innocent. My friend, can your heart stand the shocking facts of grave robbers
from outer space?”
Then silence. Captain Pete sits motionless, his eyes
staring straight ahead. His head has stopped turning but is facing the wrong
way on his body. The windows and doors have all slammed shut and the chilly
wind has abruptly stopped. The GITs are all staring at Captain Pete with fear
in their eyes but it seems nobody else in the club can see him. In fact nobody
else is even aware of his existence.
“Jesus,” says Crawfie pointing, “Did you see that?”
The other GITs look in the direction of Crawfie’s pointing just in time to see
old Mr. Mayfield walk straight through Captain Pete and on towards the bar.
“That’s it,” says Joe, “I’m bloody seeing things. No
more pickled eggs for me boys.”
“Hang on I think I’ve got it,” says Marty.
“What? You
know why we’re the only one’s able to see and hear the Captain?” says Joe.
“No, I think I’ve got one of those quotes. Wasn’t it
‘The Terminator’?” says Marty.
“Yeah…and ‘Peter Pan’,” shouts Pants.
“’Planet of the Apes’ as well old boy…and The
Exorcist,” the Count shouts back.
“I’ve got one, I’ve got one. ‘The Phantom of the
Opera’,” screams Joe, punching the air as he does so, “and ooh, what was that
one about the zombie, I know it, it’s on the tip of my tongue.”
“This is all very well but why has he suddenly
materialised and sitting there spouting rubbish in clichéd film dialogue all
the time? It can’t just be because I made it up in the last chapter can it?”
says Crawfie.
But there was no time to answer him as Mr. Biggins
rushes on to the stage again in another masterly display of slightly slower
speed crouching and, wheezing and breathing heavily, he adjusts Mr. Ross’s
microphone for the umpteenth time. Mr. Ross pushes the visor of his crash
helmet up and sounding just like Darth Vader, announces, “Ladies and gentlemen,
it’s cabaret time again but I’m sorry to say there’s been a last minute change
to our next act for the evening. The Two Buffoons and a Bike can’t make it so
we’re very lucky to have secured the services, at the eleventh hour, of an act
to make your hair curl. Please give a warm Yalding Social Club welcome to the only
unicycling knife throwing act in the business today. Put your hands together
for Big Chief Knockedoneout and his lovely assistant Passing Water.
Mr. Biggins flicks the switch on his tape recorder
and to the sound of Johnny Preston’s ‘Running Bear’, Passing Water ruffles the
backcloth and suddenly bounds into view. She’s dressed in an Indian squaw’s
outfit and has a bandage round her head, her left arm is in a sling and she has
a plaster on every finger of her right hand. Her head feather is listing at a disconcerting
33 degrees. She sighs and with a flourish throws aside the backcloth to reveal
Big Chief Knockedoneout who unicycles precariously to the front of the stage
and immediately knocks himself off the bike by hitting his head on the
low-level lighting gantry. His unicycle continues on its way and tips over the
edge of the stage landing in pieces by the side of the GIT’s table. Big Chief
Knockedoneout is mortified. His unicycle is an un-repairable mess and Passing
Water has suddenly passed water and passed out by Mr. Ross’s lectern.
Big Chief Knockedoneout slowly walks across to Mr.
Ross and whispers something in his ear. Mr. Ross listens intently and then
announces, “Ladies and gentlemen, because Big Chief Knockedoneout’s knife
throwing technique is totally based around a unicycle concept, Big Chief
Knockedoneout cannot guarantee his throwing accuracy unless he is actually on a
unicycle while performing. It has taken him years of practise to calculate the
angles and thrust required while wobbling backwards and forwards like a lunatic
on his unicycle and it would be impossible for him to accurately hit a target
from a static position.”
On hearing this, Passing Water, who has just regained
consciousness, passes more water and passes out in shock again.
“However,” continues Mr. Ross, “we can’t let an act
like this get away, can we?”
And to shouts from the audience of ‘No, give ‘im a
go’ and shouts from the GITs of ‘Get ‘im off’ Mr. Ross turns to Big Chief
Knockedoneout and says, “How about if you pretend to be on a unicycle, you
know, run about a bit, run forwards, then backwards, fall over, start again,
that sort of thing. Do you think that would work?”
With the audience now shouting more encouragement and
the GITs still shouting ‘Get ‘im off’, Big Chief Knockedoneout ponders the
question and then with a wry grin says, “Why, I’ll try anything once Jonathan.”
There’s a crash from the side of the stage as Passing
Water passes ever more water and slumps to the ground again.
“That’s the spiwit,” shouts Jonathan, “In your own
time then, I give you, the one and only knife throwing unicyclist without his
unicycle, Big Chief Knockedoneout and his assistant Passing Water.”
By this time Passing Water has recovered enough
composure to position herself stage right, side on to the audience and in front
of a large table top being held in position by two of the brothers from the
funny family.
Big Chief Knockedoneout takes a deep breath and
starts to trot around the stage, forwards, backwards, around and behind Mr. Ross
until he faces Passing Water from the far left of the stage. Trotting on the
spot he raises his arm and prepares to throw his first blade.
Channel 4 cuts to the
adverts.
Channel 4 fades back in from
the adverts.
The stage is in pandemonium. Mr. Ross is shouting to
everyone to sit down and stay calm while two St. John’s
The two Ambulance men have now managed to staunch the
blood streaming from Passing Water’s head wound and are trying to stretcher her
off the stage. They can’t stand up without slipping and falling over again in
Passing Water’s passed water so are trying to carry the stretcher while walking
off on their knees.
Mrs. Flagg is bustling around the stage with a mop
and bucket and Mr. Biggins is frantically trying to dry out Mr. Ross’s trousers
and shoes with a hair dryer. With most of Passing Water’s passed water mopped
and in her bucket Mrs. Flagg hurries off stage left, Mr. Biggins hurries off
stage right and Big Chief Knockedoneout hurries off backstage accompanied by
two burly policemen.
“Right,” says Mr. Ross nervously, “Evewything’s fine.
Evewything’s fine. Passing Water is not mortally wounded and Big Chief
Knockedoneout is only helping the police with their enquiwies. So no harm done
then.” He grins at the audience. “Now on to our next award which is the Jade
Goody Award for the best well-thought thwough argument for twying to justify a
few extwa points. The nominees are Pants, Joe, Marty, Crawfie and The Count.
And the winner is…
Martyyyyyyyyyyy!”
Marty instinctively starts arguing against receiving
the award but is pushed towards the stage by his fellow nominees who by now are
suffering from pun fatigue and need a rest from them if only for five minutes.
Unfortunately, in the heat of the moment, Marty walks straight through Captain
Pete setting him off again. As if by magic all the windows and doors burst
open, a howling wind blows through the club and a solitary tumbleweed rolls
slowly by the GIT’s table.
The Captain’s head twitches and slowly starts to
revolve as he croaks, “The only rules that really matter are these: what a man
can do and what a man can't do. For instance, you can accept that your father
was a pirate and a good man or you can't. But pirate is in your blood, boy, so
you'll have to square with that some day. And me, for example, I can let you
drown, but I can't bring this ship into Tortuga all by me onesies, savvy? So, can you sail under the
command of a pirate, or can you not? Have ever had any Single Moment’s
Thought about my responsibilities? To My Employers. Has it ever
occurred to you that I have agreed to look after the Overlook until May
the First. Does it Matter To You At All that the Owners
have put their Complete Confidence and Trust in me that I have
signed an agreement, a Contract, in which I have accepted that Responsibility?
Guilty! Guilty! My evil self is at that door, and I
have no power to stop it! I watched him for fifteen years, sitting in a room,
staring at a wall, not seeing the wall, looking past the wall - looking at this
night, inhumanly patient, waiting for some secret, silent alarm to trigger him
off. Death has come to your little town, Sheriff. Now you can either ignore it,
or you can help me to stop it. Can't you feel it? It's alive... watching
Did you know that I could hear the scratching of her
fingernails on the casket lid?
“Sorry,” says Marty, “I’m just on my way to the
stage, we can have a chin-wag later if you like -.”
“This is your President. On behalf of my country and
in the name of the other leaders of the world with whom I have today consulted,
I hereby abdicate all authority and control over this planet to General Zod.
Only by following all his directives will the lives of millions be spared...
I am General Zod. Your ruler. Yes, today begins a new
order. Your lands, your possessions, your very lives, will gladly be given in
tribute to me, General Zod! In return for your obedience you will enjoy my
generous protection. In other words you will be allowed to live.
Every thousand years, I test each life system in the
Universe. I visit it with mysteries, earthquakes, unpredicted eclipses, strange
craters in the wilderness... If these are taken as natural, I judge that system
ignorant and harmless - I spare it. But if the Hand of Ming is recognized in
these events, I judge that system dangerous to us. I call upon the great god
Dyzan, and for his greater glory...”
And with that, Captain Pete abruptly stops
mid-sentence just as if someone had put money in his slot and it had run out.
The windows and doors slam shut and peace and serenity reigns once more. Marty
takes one last look at his fellow GITs and in a state of shock walks quickly
towards the stage…pausing only to shout, “Pirates of the Caribbean !”
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