The field at McGregor’s farm next door to the one with the unicorns disguised as horses in it was the venue for the 5th Avysmere Duck Show. The field was full of marquees and steel fencing that had been arranged to make pens to hold the ducks of each exhibitor in.
They were directed into a makeshift car park and then began to make their way over to the show.
As Chloe wandered over, she mused upon what she saw before her
“So where should we start looking then?” asked Chloe.
Before Hans could respond someone ran into him, sending both him and his assailant flying.
“Sorry there,” said Crazy Dave as he picked himself up and the offered Hans a hand.
“You’ll never guess what I just saw in the greenhouse at the other side of the field,” continued Dave, “it was just like my source said.”
“And what might that be?” asked Chloe
“A moose in the greenhouse!”
“You what?” asked Hans
“A real live moose that’s living in the greenhouse.”
They wandered over to have a look, navigating the show goers. Hans peered inside and scanned the foliage. “You know there’s nothing there,” he said.
“That’s because it’s invisible,” explained Dave.
“But surely you’d see it push past the plants when it moves?” said Chloe.
“But it’s also imaginary too,” replied Dave.
“So it’s imaginary and invisible, then?”
“Yeah, you’ve got it.”
“Come on Hans, he’s clearly wasting our time,” said Chloe, beckoning Hans to follow her.
“I’ve heard it’s killed before,” shouted out Dave, desperate to get them back as they wandered back over to the Duck Show.
Friday, 30 July 2010
High
The Transformation Inc. section of the duck show was almost half of it. They had some pens where the cream of their crop were displayed as well as several large marquees. For the behind the scenes work they had a few more marquees as well as several mobile homes that were probably being used as offices.
“Jeez, they must be really big in the duck world,” exclaimed Hans, “looks like we’re gonna have to search through every single one of these tents and trucks.”
“Or we could just sneak into the back of the marquee with the armed guard outside,” said Chloe
The marquee they’d sneaked into held a gruesome sight. There was a big pile of dead ducks that had been split open and a bloody table with a knife on it where they’d been split. Chloe had thrown up then and there, and Hans would have too, but he’d been fasting before going into hospital for an operation on his little toe, so ended up just retching with nothing coming out.
They’d decided to ring Mervin to get down here and explain to them what on earth was going on. It took him half an hour to arrive, and when he made his way into the marquee, Hans immediately offered him a bag to throw up into.
“It’s okay, I did tha’ already back at the castle when yeh rang up and described it,” said Mervin, “yeh didn’t need to be quite so graphic as describing every last misplaced bone or internal organ yeh know.”
Mervin quickly surveyed the scene, and when he spotted a small white package that had been dropped under the bloodied table he quickly figured out exactly what was going on.
“They’re smuggling drugs in using the ducks!” he exclaimed. “Not just any old crap neither, its high.”
“What’s high?” queried Hans
“The name of the drug, it’s a magical drug called High.”
“And what does it do?” asked Chloe
“Does exactly what it says, makes yeh high!”
“Don’t all drugs do that anyway?”
“Yeh imbecile, it literally makes yeh high, yeh’d float right off if yeh’re not careful,” answered Mervin. He thought about explaining to Hans about the other magical drugs that existed. Such as Nostalgia, which was particularly addictive to those who felt depressed as it made them believe they were living in happier time in the past and just ceased to react to stimuli in the present. Or there was Blow, which gave you a high for the rest of your life, with just the tiniest drawback of your life only being another 2.4 seconds long before you exploded. Strange how they never put that on the packaging, thought Mervin. But Mervin thought better of attempting to explain this, Hans was confused by just one magical drug – who knows what learning there were more would do to him.
“Alright, so how do we put a stop to it?” asked Hans, adding, “do we call PC Plod? After all, the residual magic seemed to want him to find this.”
“No, as per usual, he won’t have a clue,” replied Mervin. “Best thing for it is if I try and raise some of the local wizarding union and we put a stop to it now. You two stay here and find Meow, but whatever you do don’t approach her,” he warned.
“Jeez, they must be really big in the duck world,” exclaimed Hans, “looks like we’re gonna have to search through every single one of these tents and trucks.”
“Or we could just sneak into the back of the marquee with the armed guard outside,” said Chloe
The marquee they’d sneaked into held a gruesome sight. There was a big pile of dead ducks that had been split open and a bloody table with a knife on it where they’d been split. Chloe had thrown up then and there, and Hans would have too, but he’d been fasting before going into hospital for an operation on his little toe, so ended up just retching with nothing coming out.
They’d decided to ring Mervin to get down here and explain to them what on earth was going on. It took him half an hour to arrive, and when he made his way into the marquee, Hans immediately offered him a bag to throw up into.
“It’s okay, I did tha’ already back at the castle when yeh rang up and described it,” said Mervin, “yeh didn’t need to be quite so graphic as describing every last misplaced bone or internal organ yeh know.”
Mervin quickly surveyed the scene, and when he spotted a small white package that had been dropped under the bloodied table he quickly figured out exactly what was going on.
“They’re smuggling drugs in using the ducks!” he exclaimed. “Not just any old crap neither, its high.”
“What’s high?” queried Hans
“The name of the drug, it’s a magical drug called High.”
“And what does it do?” asked Chloe
“Does exactly what it says, makes yeh high!”
“Don’t all drugs do that anyway?”
“Yeh imbecile, it literally makes yeh high, yeh’d float right off if yeh’re not careful,” answered Mervin. He thought about explaining to Hans about the other magical drugs that existed. Such as Nostalgia, which was particularly addictive to those who felt depressed as it made them believe they were living in happier time in the past and just ceased to react to stimuli in the present. Or there was Blow, which gave you a high for the rest of your life, with just the tiniest drawback of your life only being another 2.4 seconds long before you exploded. Strange how they never put that on the packaging, thought Mervin. But Mervin thought better of attempting to explain this, Hans was confused by just one magical drug – who knows what learning there were more would do to him.
“Alright, so how do we put a stop to it?” asked Hans, adding, “do we call PC Plod? After all, the residual magic seemed to want him to find this.”
“No, as per usual, he won’t have a clue,” replied Mervin. “Best thing for it is if I try and raise some of the local wizarding union and we put a stop to it now. You two stay here and find Meow, but whatever you do don’t approach her,” he warned.
The Hunt For Chairman Meow
“Okay, so where do you think this Meow person will be, then?” Hans asked Chloe after they’d waved off Mervin.
“Siberia!” she replied sarcastically.
“But surely he’d be somewhere around here,” Hans replied before spotting the sarcastic tone in her reply.
Chloe was in fact always being sarcastic, it was like a way of life for her. But then if you were a vegetarian half-vampire, you’d need something to get you through the day. The weird thing for Hans was that despite usually being the object of ridicule in these sarcastic remarks, it made him more and more attracted to Chloe. Which was rather fortunate given they’d been going out for a few months now, it quite probably wouldn’t have worked out so well if he hadn’t.
“How am I supposed to know?” she asked, feeling rather flustered. Hans did have the most terrible habit of asking the most stupid questions. Instead she decided to ponder for a while and after several minutes of discussion they opted for the clichéd tactic of splitting up and look for clues. No professional investigator would have done this, as they would know that it usually means that one of them will get into some difficulties and the other(s) will have to attempt some sort of plan to rescue them from their predicament. Fortunately the writer of this story isn’t one for clichéd plot points, at least if they can avoid it.
Instead they wandered around the Transformation Inc. marquees and trailers, and eventually Hans spotted a heavily guarded trailer (or at least, with two bodyguards outside it, it was far more heavily guarded than anywhere else) and went to find Chloe to work out how what to do next.
The only problem with Hans attempting to sneak around like this, was that he wasn’t very good at it, and immediately began being followed by one of the guards. In a clichéd tale, Hans would have been captured at this point and that would be the end of this chapter, but this wasn’t to be. Instead, as Hans passed by the trailer the door suddenly opened, knocking out the man who had been tailing him. If he’d bothered to look around he would have notice that behind him on the floor, instead of the burly man who had been following him was an unconscious bulldog. But Hans was far too unobservant to notice that he had even been followed in the first place. Nevertheless, the second guard who’d just stepped out of the trailer wasn’t so incompetent and walloped Hans over the head before he could even consider the possibility of it happening.
“Siberia!” she replied sarcastically.
“But surely he’d be somewhere around here,” Hans replied before spotting the sarcastic tone in her reply.
Chloe was in fact always being sarcastic, it was like a way of life for her. But then if you were a vegetarian half-vampire, you’d need something to get you through the day. The weird thing for Hans was that despite usually being the object of ridicule in these sarcastic remarks, it made him more and more attracted to Chloe. Which was rather fortunate given they’d been going out for a few months now, it quite probably wouldn’t have worked out so well if he hadn’t.
“How am I supposed to know?” she asked, feeling rather flustered. Hans did have the most terrible habit of asking the most stupid questions. Instead she decided to ponder for a while and after several minutes of discussion they opted for the clichéd tactic of splitting up and look for clues. No professional investigator would have done this, as they would know that it usually means that one of them will get into some difficulties and the other(s) will have to attempt some sort of plan to rescue them from their predicament. Fortunately the writer of this story isn’t one for clichéd plot points, at least if they can avoid it.
Instead they wandered around the Transformation Inc. marquees and trailers, and eventually Hans spotted a heavily guarded trailer (or at least, with two bodyguards outside it, it was far more heavily guarded than anywhere else) and went to find Chloe to work out how what to do next.
The only problem with Hans attempting to sneak around like this, was that he wasn’t very good at it, and immediately began being followed by one of the guards. In a clichéd tale, Hans would have been captured at this point and that would be the end of this chapter, but this wasn’t to be. Instead, as Hans passed by the trailer the door suddenly opened, knocking out the man who had been tailing him. If he’d bothered to look around he would have notice that behind him on the floor, instead of the burly man who had been following him was an unconscious bulldog. But Hans was far too unobservant to notice that he had even been followed in the first place. Nevertheless, the second guard who’d just stepped out of the trailer wasn’t so incompetent and walloped Hans over the head before he could even consider the possibility of it happening.
The Empty Flat
Ted sat down on the floor with his back to the wall. He detested being here by himself, locked up with just his thoughts. It drove him mad. Well not actually mad, not mad as in thinking he was a penguin called Ulric McFoible Do-Da-Do, but it made him very, very frustrated.
Thing was he’d get obsessed with little projects just like this internet search engine upgrade. That was only the latest in a long line, amongst other things he’d spent a few months trying to work out if it was possible to help men with short hair cuts with some sort of shampoo that stopped little tufts of hair sticking up towards the back of their head. He’d purposefully grown his hair that bit longer just to avoid this problem, well that and the fact that he couldn’t really afford a proper hair cut for the last few years, what with living on the street and all.
But it was silly little projects like that which would dominate his life. He’d spend ages working away at them whilst the world went on around him. Occasionally he’d decide to pull himself out of his hermit-like isolation and actually make something of his life. But every time it was thwarted. Only two days ago he got fed up of looking at his unpainted walls and decided it was time he should go and buy a paint and brush and breathe some life into his flat. It was just his luck that the paint shop was closed for the owner going on holiday for two weeks.
And just like every other time his mind wandered onto the topic of sorting his life out he found himself staring out of his living room window, unsurprisingly attracting bizarre looks from people walking past outside. He gazed into the blue sky, wishing instead of being completely clear it was filled with various shaped clouds which he could gaze at and try to work out what they looked like. He knew that most of the population of Avysmere would kill him if he made that wish of his come true; after all it wasn’t often that the weather wasn’t driving rain here, let alone sunny. But at that moment, he felt that his boredom took precedence over anything else.
In his frustration, he turned round and lashed out at the wall with his fist, moments later realising how silly that was when his hand began to throb. All this moping around was getting him nowhere. Maybe, he thought, if he went for a walk around the block he might clear his head.
Thing was he’d get obsessed with little projects just like this internet search engine upgrade. That was only the latest in a long line, amongst other things he’d spent a few months trying to work out if it was possible to help men with short hair cuts with some sort of shampoo that stopped little tufts of hair sticking up towards the back of their head. He’d purposefully grown his hair that bit longer just to avoid this problem, well that and the fact that he couldn’t really afford a proper hair cut for the last few years, what with living on the street and all.
But it was silly little projects like that which would dominate his life. He’d spend ages working away at them whilst the world went on around him. Occasionally he’d decide to pull himself out of his hermit-like isolation and actually make something of his life. But every time it was thwarted. Only two days ago he got fed up of looking at his unpainted walls and decided it was time he should go and buy a paint and brush and breathe some life into his flat. It was just his luck that the paint shop was closed for the owner going on holiday for two weeks.
And just like every other time his mind wandered onto the topic of sorting his life out he found himself staring out of his living room window, unsurprisingly attracting bizarre looks from people walking past outside. He gazed into the blue sky, wishing instead of being completely clear it was filled with various shaped clouds which he could gaze at and try to work out what they looked like. He knew that most of the population of Avysmere would kill him if he made that wish of his come true; after all it wasn’t often that the weather wasn’t driving rain here, let alone sunny. But at that moment, he felt that his boredom took precedence over anything else.
In his frustration, he turned round and lashed out at the wall with his fist, moments later realising how silly that was when his hand began to throb. All this moping around was getting him nowhere. Maybe, he thought, if he went for a walk around the block he might clear his head.
A Proposition
When Hans came to he found himself in the greenhouse. The first thing Hans felt when he woke up was relief that Chloe hadn’t attempted to sneak around trailer instead of him, being stuck in a greenhouse for a prolonged period of time would kill her, literally. The second thing was that his hands were bound behind his back.
As he began to get his bearings fully he slowly realised that he was tied to one of the posts holding up the greenhouse roof, and unfortunately was tied up next to Chloe after all. Which made him panic, tremendously whilst he waited for the writer of this story to discover some way of recounting quite how he’d got into this predicament.
“At last you’re awake,” said Chloe angrily, “If you’d only have looked where you were going you wouldn’t have run into that other trailer. I was struggling to outrun them anyway without having to drag your body along too.”
Meow approached them, flanked by two men, whom Hans and Chloe both assumed correctly to be other shapeshifters.
Hans tried to work out if any of the magic he could do would be useful. He could turn both him and Chloe invisible, but despite Meow not being able to see them in particular, with them being tied to the post it would be fairly obvious where they were. He could knock Meow out magically too, but that still left the problem of being tied to the post. Altogether his magical repertoire was somewhat limited, which upset Hans. He’d been trying so hard to learn stuff but things seemed to come fairly slowly to him. Although in theory just having to concentrate to do magic seems simple, the problem is you have to concentrate in a different way each time. Hans compared it to cooking completely different dishes – you had to learn a new recipe each time. He wasn’t particularly good at that either.
The situation was desperate but, although he didn’t think it would work, Hans had another plan. “You do know there’s a killer moose on the loose in here?” he said out of desperation.
“Oh really, so where is it then?” asked Meow, in a menacing Russian accent.
“It’s… erm… hiding… erm…in the bushes over that way,” Hans said whilst indicating with his head.
Meow indicated for one of her companions to go check it out, the man transformed into a grizzly bear and set off to check it out. Finding nothing, he came back towards Meow and reported to that effect.
“So Mr Little, I was expecting you,” said Meow. “You thought you could foil my operation, you should think again. Do you think I’m stupid?”
“No,” said Hans who was somewhat scared by this point. Not just because of the muscle that was able to change into even bigger scary animals, but also because Meow kept going towards his face with her nails in a way that made him think she was going to claw him. He’d never been a fan of claws or cats in general, but then most things that have caused you intense pain in the groin area people generally aren’t fans off.
“I have a proposition for you, Mr. Little,” Meow continued, “You may think you’re better off trying to stop me, but I think different. You have connections, you have magical talent, you have a certain boldness. Do you fancy a change in your line of work?”
Hans didn’t answer, he was too busy thinking that Meow had been spending far too much time watching old Bond films for her own good – the only thing she was missing was a cat to stroke, but then she could turn into one which kinda made up for it.
Meow scratched his face lightly, but just hard enough to draw blood. “Do I have your attention now, Mr Little?” asked Meow insistently. “As I said, I have a proposition. What do you say to the idea of working for me?”
As he began to get his bearings fully he slowly realised that he was tied to one of the posts holding up the greenhouse roof, and unfortunately was tied up next to Chloe after all. Which made him panic, tremendously whilst he waited for the writer of this story to discover some way of recounting quite how he’d got into this predicament.
“At last you’re awake,” said Chloe angrily, “If you’d only have looked where you were going you wouldn’t have run into that other trailer. I was struggling to outrun them anyway without having to drag your body along too.”
Meow approached them, flanked by two men, whom Hans and Chloe both assumed correctly to be other shapeshifters.
Hans tried to work out if any of the magic he could do would be useful. He could turn both him and Chloe invisible, but despite Meow not being able to see them in particular, with them being tied to the post it would be fairly obvious where they were. He could knock Meow out magically too, but that still left the problem of being tied to the post. Altogether his magical repertoire was somewhat limited, which upset Hans. He’d been trying so hard to learn stuff but things seemed to come fairly slowly to him. Although in theory just having to concentrate to do magic seems simple, the problem is you have to concentrate in a different way each time. Hans compared it to cooking completely different dishes – you had to learn a new recipe each time. He wasn’t particularly good at that either.
The situation was desperate but, although he didn’t think it would work, Hans had another plan. “You do know there’s a killer moose on the loose in here?” he said out of desperation.
“Oh really, so where is it then?” asked Meow, in a menacing Russian accent.
“It’s… erm… hiding… erm…in the bushes over that way,” Hans said whilst indicating with his head.
Meow indicated for one of her companions to go check it out, the man transformed into a grizzly bear and set off to check it out. Finding nothing, he came back towards Meow and reported to that effect.
“So Mr Little, I was expecting you,” said Meow. “You thought you could foil my operation, you should think again. Do you think I’m stupid?”
“No,” said Hans who was somewhat scared by this point. Not just because of the muscle that was able to change into even bigger scary animals, but also because Meow kept going towards his face with her nails in a way that made him think she was going to claw him. He’d never been a fan of claws or cats in general, but then most things that have caused you intense pain in the groin area people generally aren’t fans off.
“I have a proposition for you, Mr. Little,” Meow continued, “You may think you’re better off trying to stop me, but I think different. You have connections, you have magical talent, you have a certain boldness. Do you fancy a change in your line of work?”
Hans didn’t answer, he was too busy thinking that Meow had been spending far too much time watching old Bond films for her own good – the only thing she was missing was a cat to stroke, but then she could turn into one which kinda made up for it.
Meow scratched his face lightly, but just hard enough to draw blood. “Do I have your attention now, Mr Little?” asked Meow insistently. “As I said, I have a proposition. What do you say to the idea of working for me?”
Plodding Along
PC Plod had had an odd evening. He’d finally met one of Ms Baxter’s other personalities. When she’d first appeared with a signed note from Susan saying it was okay for him to talk to this personality, he’d been sceptical. But then he’d remembered all the trouble that Ronnie had had at school as they always believed he was forging notes from his mother as her handwriting changed with every different personality.
He thought when he met one of her other personalities that he’d be ready for it. But he hadn’t banked on meeting a personality like this though.
“Y’all alright there, young’un?” asked Ms. Baxter. Those words would have been weird enough for Sherman even if she hadn’t spoken in a rather male elderly Texan accent. “Y’ seems, a little taken aback there, name’s Earl y’know.”
Earl was Ms Baxter’s only male personality, which Sherman found rather disturbing – Susan’s body having the voice and mannerisms of a 50 year old Texan ranger who probably ought to have a big droopy moustache and be wearing one of those big old cowboy hats.
It wasn’t like the rest of the evening hadn’t been pleasant either, and even despite Earl being rather hyperactive. Indeed whilst Earl had been there they’d talked about cars and fixed the police station plumbing. And for some reason Earl had started planning a barn dance, apparently Ronnie had said something to Susan about Sherman wanting one. He was the only one of Susan’s personalities that would appear at the same time on a regular basis every week, every Tuesday in fact at precisely 4.16pm until 8.32pm – which made is what made it possible for him to make sure that the barn dance would happen for PC Plod and Susan.
But the evening was about to be spoiled, surprisingly not by Sherman doing or saying anything out of place as he had worried about earlier. Instead his mobile started ringing, it was Ronnie and it sounded like he was in trouble.
Sherman made his excuses, grabbed a coat and ran once he got outside the door. He didn’t even stop to explain to Earl/Susan what was happening to her son. He rationalised this as trying not to worry her, but he wasn’t sure who actually was in trouble, after all Ronnie had phoned him which probably meant it wasn’t him. Sherman was wondering about this so much he didn’t see Ted step out right in front of him and the two collided into each other.
Sherman stood up, dusted himself off and grabbed a surprised Ted. Rescuing someone and getting to be a hero was just the thing for severe depression he thought.
He thought when he met one of her other personalities that he’d be ready for it. But he hadn’t banked on meeting a personality like this though.
“Y’all alright there, young’un?” asked Ms. Baxter. Those words would have been weird enough for Sherman even if she hadn’t spoken in a rather male elderly Texan accent. “Y’ seems, a little taken aback there, name’s Earl y’know.”
Earl was Ms Baxter’s only male personality, which Sherman found rather disturbing – Susan’s body having the voice and mannerisms of a 50 year old Texan ranger who probably ought to have a big droopy moustache and be wearing one of those big old cowboy hats.
It wasn’t like the rest of the evening hadn’t been pleasant either, and even despite Earl being rather hyperactive. Indeed whilst Earl had been there they’d talked about cars and fixed the police station plumbing. And for some reason Earl had started planning a barn dance, apparently Ronnie had said something to Susan about Sherman wanting one. He was the only one of Susan’s personalities that would appear at the same time on a regular basis every week, every Tuesday in fact at precisely 4.16pm until 8.32pm – which made is what made it possible for him to make sure that the barn dance would happen for PC Plod and Susan.
But the evening was about to be spoiled, surprisingly not by Sherman doing or saying anything out of place as he had worried about earlier. Instead his mobile started ringing, it was Ronnie and it sounded like he was in trouble.
Sherman made his excuses, grabbed a coat and ran once he got outside the door. He didn’t even stop to explain to Earl/Susan what was happening to her son. He rationalised this as trying not to worry her, but he wasn’t sure who actually was in trouble, after all Ronnie had phoned him which probably meant it wasn’t him. Sherman was wondering about this so much he didn’t see Ted step out right in front of him and the two collided into each other.
Sherman stood up, dusted himself off and grabbed a surprised Ted. Rescuing someone and getting to be a hero was just the thing for severe depression he thought.
The Silent Watcher
Ronnie had been watching everything Hans and Chloe had been doing, he’d followed them all around the Duck Show. PC Plod had asked him as usual to look out for anything suspicious, and they were acting a little suspicious. More suspicious than usual in fact. Indeed Ronnie, had always been a little suspicious of Hans and Chloe, because unlike everyone else he could never tell what they were thinking about. He couldn’t work out why?
But this time they’d been even more suspicious, sneaking around – but given that they were now tied up and being held captive he didn’t suspect them of anything dodgy. Rather more suspicious were the three people, if you could call them that, which were currently holding them there. He hadn’t believed his eyes when he’d seen one of the change into a bear.
Ronnie had seen some odd things in his time, but who wouldn’t if you were living with a mother with 13 different personalities. It certainly kept him on his guard, especially when he went shopping as Teresa often emerged then and he had to be on his guard for her stealing something from the supermarket, especially shampoo. She always said she couldn’t have enough of it and rather than a regular shoplifter trying to take just one of something, Teresa would attempt to take a whole crate and hide it under her coat, which frankly looked a bit bizarre. He always found this a little odd, apart from the kleptomania, as she never seemed to steal a similar quantity of conditioner to go with it.
If anything counted as an emergency for calling PC Plod this was it, all he was doing now was waiting for him to arrive whilst watching on outside the greenhouse helplessly as he saw the scene unfolding within. His gaze was so fixed on it and the bizarreness of the shapeshifting inside that he didn’t spot Mervin sneaking up behind him.
“Ssh,” said Mervin quietly as he put his hand over Ronnie’s mouth to stop him screaming. “We can’t let them know we’re out here, we need to come up wi’ a way to save them from being ripped to shreds.”
“But surely they can’t get away with it, it’s inhuman, someone would catch them,” protested Ronnie.
“Who’s gonna believe that they could grow the huge claws to do that though. They could just say it was a pack of wild animals,” explained Mervin, “They might even say it were something like gophers!”
“But aren’t gophers tiny creatures that live in America?” enquired Ronnie.
“Yes but if yeh tell enough people, enough times that gophers are huge six-foot tall beasts that prey on tramps and the occasional unfortunate person that gets in their way, people will eventually believe yeh,” answered Mervin. “Anyways, enough question for a moment, I need to think.”
Just at that moment they say two blurs moving across the field towards the greenhouse. As they drew closer, they could tell it was PC Plod with Ted shouting something from behind him.
“I’m telling you, it won’t work,” Ted yelled between breaths as he chased after Sherman. And he was right – they both collided with the glass wall of the greenhouse and knocked themselves out.
But this time they’d been even more suspicious, sneaking around – but given that they were now tied up and being held captive he didn’t suspect them of anything dodgy. Rather more suspicious were the three people, if you could call them that, which were currently holding them there. He hadn’t believed his eyes when he’d seen one of the change into a bear.
Ronnie had seen some odd things in his time, but who wouldn’t if you were living with a mother with 13 different personalities. It certainly kept him on his guard, especially when he went shopping as Teresa often emerged then and he had to be on his guard for her stealing something from the supermarket, especially shampoo. She always said she couldn’t have enough of it and rather than a regular shoplifter trying to take just one of something, Teresa would attempt to take a whole crate and hide it under her coat, which frankly looked a bit bizarre. He always found this a little odd, apart from the kleptomania, as she never seemed to steal a similar quantity of conditioner to go with it.
If anything counted as an emergency for calling PC Plod this was it, all he was doing now was waiting for him to arrive whilst watching on outside the greenhouse helplessly as he saw the scene unfolding within. His gaze was so fixed on it and the bizarreness of the shapeshifting inside that he didn’t spot Mervin sneaking up behind him.
“Ssh,” said Mervin quietly as he put his hand over Ronnie’s mouth to stop him screaming. “We can’t let them know we’re out here, we need to come up wi’ a way to save them from being ripped to shreds.”
“But surely they can’t get away with it, it’s inhuman, someone would catch them,” protested Ronnie.
“Who’s gonna believe that they could grow the huge claws to do that though. They could just say it was a pack of wild animals,” explained Mervin, “They might even say it were something like gophers!”
“But aren’t gophers tiny creatures that live in America?” enquired Ronnie.
“Yes but if yeh tell enough people, enough times that gophers are huge six-foot tall beasts that prey on tramps and the occasional unfortunate person that gets in their way, people will eventually believe yeh,” answered Mervin. “Anyways, enough question for a moment, I need to think.”
Just at that moment they say two blurs moving across the field towards the greenhouse. As they drew closer, they could tell it was PC Plod with Ted shouting something from behind him.
“I’m telling you, it won’t work,” Ted yelled between breaths as he chased after Sherman. And he was right – they both collided with the glass wall of the greenhouse and knocked themselves out.
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