Sunday 4 November 2007

Hallowe'en IV: The Crystal Ball



I caught up with the others on the edge of the grand ballroom, which had very tastefully been decorated with glass, crystal and silver. Massive, intricate chandeliers hung from the far off ceiling, throwing light around like glitterballs.




At the far side of the 'room were three ornate thrones, only one of which was occupied. In it lounged a very attractive looking athletic young man, dressed in dashing finery.
CyberPete had seen him too and was already pushing his way across the dance floor. Feeling evil, I surrepticiously got my wand out and pointed it over the sozzled 'Cinders head at the prince. The Ka-Zam was muffled amidst the noise of the party, thankfully. CyberPete hadn't noticed that the prince was no longer so young, or handsome, or slender, and kept on through the throng.
Suddenly he stopped dead at the far side, just before the steps leading up to the bethroned staging area. His body seemed to sag then he lifted his glass and drained it. A disappointed 'Oh' sailed across the 'room. I smiled. And not in a particularly nice way.

MJ looked up as she too heard the 'Oh'. Her gaze found CyberPete, then carried on until it met the transmogrified prince.

"Ah ha!" she exclaimed. "My bitch has arrived." And with that, she ploughed through the dancers, shoved CyberPete aside once she reached the steps and ascended them up to the throne level. The prince stopped his lounging and sat up straight.

"MJ?" he uttered in an out-of-place Irish accent.

Oh no! Not another one - What was wrong with this bloody wand?! The prince had been turned into S.I.D.

MJ stood before him, her hands on her hips. "Right, bitch. On your hands and knees or you're not having any of this" and she reached underneath her skirts to produce a bottle of Jameson's. I was just glad that I wasn't close enough to hear the squelch from whichever orifice she'd pulled it out of.

Turning in disgust, I headed towards the bar where Tazzy, Piggy and Frobi were propping it up. I joined them halfway through a conversation...

"Well, it looks like him" Piggy was saying. "He's always at these type of things."

"It's not him" Tazzy countered. "What in fook would he be doing here? This isn't exactly Panto."

"I think Piggy might be right" said Frobi. "After all, he'd go to the opening of an envelope!"

"It's not him! For a start, he looks more like William Shatner."

"Ah, there's another one who'd be at that envelope."

"I'm telling you, it is!" Piggy oinked impetuously.

"Who is it?" I asked, dodging the smoke from whatever it was that Frobi was puffing on.

"Christopher Biggins!" Piggy practically shouted, jumping up and down a bit.

I peered through the smoke to where Frobi was pointing. After squinting, I had to admit that the fat, bespectacled man in the flamboyant waistcoat, did look somewhat like Christopher Biggins, Panto Dame Extraordinaire!

"Uh oh" Frobi muttered. "He's looking at you again, Piggy."

"What? Who is?" I asked. "Biggins?"

"No. There's a... rather elderly gentleman who's had his eye on Piggy since we got here" Frobi replied, smirking at Piggy.

"Come on, Tazzy. Let's go" Piggy whined.

"No. I've only just started my drink."

"Oh, please? The music's shit, there's no proper beer and this dress is really itchy."

At this point, the elderly gentleman, with glasses like Mr Magoo's, hobbled up and tapped Piggy on his shoulder as he'd turned to escape. Tazzy, Frobi and I just sniggered at each other over their heads, as Piggy was asked if he'd like to be shown 'a good time'.
Piggy turned, sighed and lifted his dress up in front of the old git.

"G... Gin... Ginger!" the blind old fool stuttered before keeling over, clutching his heart.

"I'm not fuckin' ginger!" Piggy screamed, then stormed off towards the exit.

Tazzy downed his sherry, Frobi took a final drag before flicking the butt into the crowd, and we followed the flouncing Piggy.

"Come on, 'Cinders" I shouted to CyberPete over my shoulder, who staggered to his feet, one shoe on, the other clutched in his left hand. He hoiked up his frills and limped across the ballroom towards us, swaying a little as he did so.





To be continued...

22 comments:

  1. I wish it had been judging by the smear he left behind.

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  2. SID leaves a trail wherever he goes.

    Unfortunately, there's not a nappy big enough to contain his load.

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  3. "to hear the squelch from whichever orifice she'd pulled it out of."


    Like the sound of separating a cold cheese toastie?

    *vomits*

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  4. Can we just skip to the part where SID asks to fellate my Jamesons bottle?

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  5. Ah, so that's what you two were getting up to when the rest of us were at the bar.

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  6. You do know Hallowe'en was last week, don't you?

    When does Michael Myers turn up?

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  7. Would you have read this if it was all one post, Tim?

    Oh, and don't look around...

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  8. I might've scanned it quickly - just enough to answer any questions I might be asked.

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  9. I have studied diligently and am ready for the next chapter.

    No cliff notes versions for me thanks!

    Oh, sweet zombie Jesus. The cat has a massive moth in pieces all over the kitchen... gotta go.

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  10. Ooh, and moth-dust is such a bugger to get rid of!

    Bad PeeCat!

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  11. Cunt!

    I'm not fucking ginger!

    And I'd never acknowledge knowing who Christopher Biggins was.

    Just you wait. Your time is rapidly approaching.

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  12. MJ - shouldn't you have been smuggling Canadian Club?

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  13. No. She should be a Canadian being clubbed.

    SEND IN THE YANKS!

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  14. Oh them's fighting words. I'll make sure that we send some Canadian peace keepers to see to you.

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  15. Can we just skip to the part where SID gets his tongue stuck in my bottle?

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  16. tee hee

    Don't let Pigsy fool you - he's vice-president of the Christopher Biggins appreciation society!
    He has a little badge that says so.

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  17. Can we just skip to the part where I get to fondle the crown jewels?

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  18. MJ's always playing with her crown jewels.

    I'm really enjoying this and wondering how it's going to finish.

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Tickle my fancy, why don't you?