|
|
<< 1 >>
Kelvin the human hang-glider woke up one morning and realised that the
floor had changed colour overnight. From the ravenously beautiful teak mahogany floor that he had been used to,
there now lay a semi-fluid mass of twitching pulp. A low throbbing sound was emitted from the mass, which heaved
and rumbled and sighed, much like a wrecked hot air balloon that has been invaded by a pack of hyenas.
It didn't take long for Kelvin to realise what had in fact occurred during the night, and he sat up straight in
horror.
"Luminous Toad!", he screamed, for it was the remnants of his faithful sidekick that he now viewed pulsating
wretchedly on the floor. "Oh what have I done?" The remains of the amazing toad did not look happy; in
fact it would have been pretty hard for them to look anything, but we shall move on.
Kelvin thought long and hard about what could have happened to his long time friend and mentor (for it was he who
helped Kelvin to realise that he was, in fact, a human hang-glider). He mused over the happenings of yesterday
just past, in an effort to remember the fate of his old friend.
The day had begun like any ordinary day in Little Twatting, the sleepy village that Kelvin called home. After hang-gliding
to the shops using his amazing human hang-glider arms, he bought a postcard and sent it to himself. He then went
down to the local fruit shop and bought his daily ration of four pineapples, and a small tin of kidney beans, with
which he had hoped to rustle up an exciting meal for him and his amphibious mate. He had an unambitious conversation
with Trill, the shop-owner, in which she imparted upon him the sordid details of a new toad-blender she had bought.
And then it hit him. Like a rusty beam falling from a non-compliant building site. Like a mischievous squirrel
bounding through the air. Like a small meteorite whittled down from asteroid-status using Cold-War era nuclear
technology and a healthy donation of suicidally brave manoeuvring from Bruce Willis. Like a salmon misjudging the
location of a rocky outcrop in a mountain waterfall. Like a monsoon raindrop onto an upturned caterpillar's torso.
Like a cabbage striking the forehead of a cheeky medieval villain, whose only crime had been to pilfer a loaf of
bread from the cheating vagabond of Fetter Lane who had only the night before slept with his wife in order to gain
access to his house and steal an antique clock (though it was new then) and sell into slavery, decanting it on
to a clipper boat sailing absent-mindedly for Ghana skippered by a university professor from Oxford who had recently
fled the city screaming while being chased by a rampaging armadillo (escaped from the laboratories) armed with
a hockey stick and a small flick-knife, which itself had been pilfered from an orphan impaled upon the spike of
Magdalen College while attempting to save a copper platter that had been ordained holy by his late father, a priest.
Yes. Trill had killed Luminous Toad.
|
|
