The story so far: Cecily is in love with a talking heron
which is about to be attacked by an orc. Meanwhile, that bluebottle that
distracted you in Chapter 13 has composed a song called ‘Buzz’. He is currently
testing the same section of window to see if it can get out that way.
Currently, he was on his 513th attempt at escaping from the same
section of window. Each time, he hoped it will be different. As he tried, he
sang to himself in order to keep his spirits up. Sadly, he will be squashed,
unnoticed, in Chapter 18.
The cucumbers are thriving, three of the females are
incubating eggs. There is a self satisfied and smug air from the bull cucumber
who has yet to realise he is not the father; that role belongs to the suave
marrow from the greenhouse next door.
Anyway, back to the disastrous dinner party where Vlarg was
closing in on Hardy in the hopes of having a delicious meal.
There was a sudden blur. Blows were exchanged. The sound of
blunt weapon on flesh thudded around the room. Cries of pain and anguish, of
fear and regret shook the furniture. Shakiest of all was the dresser which held
the antique evaporated milk cans. The cans rattled, the doors shook. A lifeless
and bloodied figure lay prone on the carpet; hands were put to mouths and the
mighty warrior who has conquered all stood proud in the middle of the chaos.
“I’m sorry for the kerfuffle, everyone,” Mr Smidgeon spoke
in a light, nasal voice. He pocketed the cosh fussily before adding “I am
afraid I cannot tolerate poor etiquette at mealtimes, especially in front of
Hetty.”
His wife crept over next to him and adjusted his cardigan
for him, then patted him adoringly on the upper arm.
In a broken voice, Hardy muttered “Can’t thank you enough,
old fellow,” before tottering out into the kitchen. His feathers were ruffled
and an eye was swelling slightly. Cecily followed him as pale as a bleached
sheep.
Vlarg said nothing; he was unconscious on the floor.
The Smidgeons, with silent nods, excused themselves and
exited hand in hand. Josiah saw them out.
“Someone’s luck is in tonight,” Mr Henderson observed,
watching the couple leave the house.
“Cyril!”
Mr Henderson stared at the comatose orc. His wife looked
furtively around the room, confirming they had been left alone. Then she knelt
beside Vlarg and felt along the orc’s taut and muscular body with practised
hands. She looked up at her husband.
“I know he lost that fight but he is rather strong. Very
muscular. Perhaps we could...look after him at home for a while?”
Her husband nodded and also crouched beside the lifeless
warrior. His nose wrinkled.
“He’ll need a bath.”
Mrs Henderson gave a slight shrug and felt the muscles
greedily once more.
Without speaking, they both hoisted the slowly reviving orc
to his feet and began to lead him away.
“You come with us, Mr Vlarg,” Mr Henderson said kindly.
“We’ll make sure you are ok. Stay for a bit with us, till you feel better. Ooh,
and do you know, we have some friends coming over at the weekend. Tell me, are
you a sociable kind of chap?”
Through the front door they squeezed, past the bemused
Josiah and off down the street. Watching them go, their host could believe that
he could hear the sound of pens writing notes ferociously on notebooks behind
the net curtains all along the street. He felt rather exposed and closed the
door without delay. With a lurch of his stomach, his thoughts turned guiltily
to Cecily. Those noble and beautiful dreams she had held dear of Hardy’s
acceptance and of an exquisite evening lay in more tatters than the carpet at a
moth convention.
When he went back into the lounge, Cecily was kneeling on
the floor, sobbing gently and trying to budge a stain from the carpet.
“Here, let me do that,” Josiah offered.
“You had a chance to act earlier and to save Hardy from that
horrible creature,” Cecily told him, wringing her cloth violently. Josiah was
impressed; she was very musical and could get a tune out of anything.
Blinking through her tears, she looked up at him.
“Sometimes you need to act!”
Josiah looked hurt. There was a blur of activity and a set
and lighting rig was hurriedly erected. Cameras moved in whilst Josiah allowed
a smock to be put round him by a make-up artist. His face was soon caked in
foundation. Technicians and sound men did their bit whilst the best boy stood
there wondering what it was he actually did. Finally, a director appeared and
bellowed for quiet on the set before demanding action.
Josiah looked meaningfully with a smouldering glare into the
nearest lens.
“Cut!” the director yelled and there was a moment of faffing
before the crew were ready for the next shot. A boom microphone was lowered.
Instructions poured forth from the director before action was called for again.
Speaking in a dramatic and emotional tone, Josiah boomed “I
am just waiting for my big....”
Panic crossed his face as the rest of the line eluded him.
Instantly, the lights were extinguished and the cameras were
withdrawn. Muttering bitterly, the crew wandered off, complaining about the
poor quality of actor they had worked with. The make-up girl was in tears as
she was led away. Last to leave, the director stopped in front of Josiah,
pushing his face close to his erstwhile star’s.
“You’ll never work in this town again,” he hissed before
stalking off.
Almost in a whisper, Josiah said “...chance. You know I want
to be a movie star...”
Cecily shook her head.
“It just gets worse,” she said.
At this point, Hardy returned with a sticky plaster over a
part of his beak. He looked rather crestfallen.
“I don’t know how you can be seen as the dominant species
who have evolved more than any other creature,” he sniffed. “You are nothing
more than wild beasts yourselves.”
Cecily went over and fussed over him.
“Shush, don’t upset yourself,” she cooed.
“I’m going back to the lake!” snapped Hardy. "I was
crazy to think that this would ever work. Adieu."
With that he was gone before anyone could even think of
saying "Bless you!".
"I'll just wash up," Josiah bellowed over the
sound of Cecily sobbing hysterically, rolling on the floor and pounding her
fists on the carpet. She clearly hadn't taken it very well.
"If you cared for me at all you would get that darling
bird back in my life!" snapped Cecily.
Brooding on this, Josiah went into the kitchen whilst Cecily
left hysterically, heading to her bedroom in the opposite direction.
"Now, the one on my heel is a particularly interesting
shape," Mrs Train observed to the now empty room.
BUZZ...Thud...
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