of slurped out.
“Well well well,” shouted Fred. “It all looks a bit precarious up there. Why don’t you come down for a little chat?”
“Boo,” went the crowd. “Boo and hiss.”
“Stuff you!” shouted Omally.
“Hoorah,” went the crowd, and “Cheer.”
The Bunnies’ lead singer crawled over to Fred. “How much do you want for this mother- crunching motor?” he asked.
Fred kicked him in the head.
“Ouch!” went the lead singer.
“Boo!” went the crowd.
Fred pointed at Pooley. “You are a very dead man,” said he. “You will know such torment as you never knew could be.”
If Jim had had a spare hand free he might have managed a two-fingered salute. But he didn’t so he just climbed higher.
“There’s nowhere to go.” Fred did a bit of the old manic laughing. “Bring him to me, Igor.”
“Igor?” said Derek. “Is its name Igor?”
“Like Dr Frankenstein’s assistant,” said Clive. “And Dr Frankenstein was of course played by Colin Clive. How about that?”
“So who played Igor?”
“Bela Lugosi.”
“Oh yeah, old Bela. His real name was Marion, you know.”
“That was John Wayne.”
“The hell it wa…”
“Shut your bloody mouths!” Fred rose quivering on his toes. Higher than his toes, in fact. An inch or two higher. “Igor, fetch him, bring him to me.”
“Slurp,” went the creature, then “Aaaararghooowaaghooow!” like it did the last time. And then it unfolded hideous membraney sort of wings and took flight.
“Oh shit!” went Jim, as you would.
And “Boo!” went the crowd.
“Get the Irishman,” Fred told Derek and Clive.
“Yes sir!” said Derek.
Igor swept up from the pitch, over the sloping stage and flung itself at Jim, talons clawing, jaws going snap, snap, snap. Jim kicked it away, but it lunged at him, again and again, ripping, tearing, and then it fastened hold and clung right on. The scaffolding shivered. Roman candles, fast giving out on their surreal message, dropped from their sockets. Dropped upon John and Norman and the groundsman.
“Ooh! Ouch! Aaagh!” they went, skipping this way and that.
Rip went a sleeve from Jim’s jacket and the taloned claws bit into his arm. Suzy clung on to him, but the beast pulled and pulled.
Norman’s de-entropizer started to roll down the sloping stage. Omally put his foot against a wheel, and his hand fell upon a very huge firework that was spilling off the conveyor. Above him the beast pried Jim loose from his precarious mooring. “Fetch him down!” shouted Fred. “Boo, boo,” went the crowd.
“I wonder where this is leading?” asked the lady in the straw hat.
“There’ll be a trick ending in it,” said Paul. “There always is.”
“in Duos: Duo in Unum; Unus in Nihil,” Professor Slocombe concluded his rite.
Within the basement at Kether House, Cain and Abel stared down at the broken corpse of Dr Steven Malone.
“All in Two,” said Cain, touching the hands of his brother.
“Two in One,” said Abel, holding tight to his hands.
“One in Nothingness.”
A bright light glowed. Brighter than a summer sun. And All in Two and Two in One, the brothers vanished into nothingness.
A bright light flared on the concert stage, a Zippo lighter it was. As Igor tore Pooley from the scaffolding, John angled up the very huge firework, lit the blue touch paper and did not retire to a safe distance.
“Aaaararghooowaaghooow!” went Igor, victorious.
“Whoosh,” went the very large firework.
“Huh?” went Igor, looking down.
“Whoosh,” went the firework, heading up.
Then Huh?
Then Whoosh!
Then, THUNK!
Now what is that sound? THUNK?
That is the sound of a firework entering the anal cavity of a creature named Igor at about one hundred miles an hour. And then,
All in Two: Two in One: One in Nothingness.
AAAARARGHOOOWAAGHOOOW!
Pooley fell from the creature’s grasp. The creature rocketed into the sky (as well one might) and the very huge firework exploded.
CRIMSON SMOKE. STARBURST FLARE. GOLDEN SHOWERS.
“Oooooooooooooo,” went the crowd, cheering wildly.
“Told you,” said Paul.
“The show’s not over ’til the lady in the straw hat sings,” said the lady in the straw hat.
“That was a good one,” said cowering Norman, and then “Ooow!” he continued as Pooley fell upon him.
“Take them!” ordered Fred.
Clive and Derek were on stage now. Derek was rolling up his sleeves. Clive had his fists up in a rather foolish fashion.
“Just do what I do,” said Derek. “Poke ’em in the eyes and kick ’em in the bollocks.”
“Right,” said Clive. “I’ll try to remember that.”
Pooley scrambled up and Omally scrambled up. The groundsman scrambled up (and ran). Norman just lay there moaning.
“Sorry, Norman,” said Pooley.
“Oh, I’m all right,” said Norman. “I’m just faking it in the hope I won’t get a thrashing.”
“Very wise!”
And Clive took a swipe at Pooley.
The crowd now roared further approval. They’d had the rock concert, the fireworks, an automotive bullfight, the Ray Harryhausen special effects flying creature that got a rocket up its arse, and now they were getting Rocky 6, or was it 7? Bloody good value for free of charge.
Pooley ducked and hit Clive in the stomach.
“Ow!” said Clive, stamping on Jim’s foot.
Derek took a swing at John, who side-stepped and kicked him in the nuts.
“Bloody unsporting,” howled Derek.
“You fools,” shouted Fred. “Kill them. Kill them.”
“Boo,” shouted the crowd. “Boo boo boo.”
Fred turned upon the crowd. “No more!” he screamed. “No more. I will destroy you all.”
“Oh no you won’t,” the crowd chanted.
“Oh yes I will.”
“Oh no you…”
