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Tempest Peacock stood up and shook the crumbs from his jacket like a man in a jacket with crumbs on it. The crumbs didn’t mind, they’re inanimate objects. As they tumbled to the floor like so many torn betting slips at a dog track he looked around the smoke filled room with a sense of apprehension.

At the opposite wall, sitting in a large green sofa in the manner of a frog on its favourite lily-pad, his friend Cornelius Hawkswell was meditating on the meaning of postage costs.

“Nutjob,” Tempest said.

“Crackerpants,” Cornelius replied before unfolding his skinny legs and raising himself from his repose.

“What’s the plan, captain?” Asked Tempest, eagerly.

“Gin,” was the reply. Gin was always the reply, and in readiness Tempest had prepared two gin and tonics for consumption.

“Then?”

“Then? Why then my dear chap we’re off to Africa!”

“Africa? Why?”

“Sorry, not Africa. I meant to say prison!”

“I’m not going to prison, I know what they do to pretty boys like me there.”

“Don’t worry my little imp of the forest, you’ll be safe, we’re just going to visit a friend. He has the tickets you see…”

“Tickets? For where?”

“Africa of course!”

“Africa? Why?”

“You said that already, please do try not to repeat yourself.”

“Sorry Captain.” Tempest said.

After putting on their hats, belts and small inflatable animals, the two out of work tree-surgeons headed to the nearest prison where Mack the Soup Spoon was waiting for them with the two return tickets. They hadn’t got even halfway there before one of their six tyres exploded in a shower of glittery stars.

“Glittery stars?” asked Tempest.

“Yep, that’s what the narrator said…” Cornelius replied.

“But why glittery stars?”

“Well, I thought they’d like it in the tyres with all the air.”

“Nutjob,” Tempest commented.

“Crackerpants,” Cornelius agreed.

A small policeman helped them to replace the exploded tyre with one not quite so exploded and they were on their way again like two random particles in a browning-motion experiment tied together by some invisible electromagnetic bond. Although the bond wasn’t invisible, it was a car.

After bumping against some other particles and seriously scrapping the paintwork on five trucks, two vans, four cars, a brown dog and a little old lady called Mary who had just popped out to get some nice sprouts to go with her gammon they reached the bad side of town where all the prisons, tattoo parlours and bun shops were.

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Posted by tarhead 2008-02-11 11:53:11 to be honest i didn't get the first one, until i got the second one. now i understand! + Report this comment

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