Al began his day with the intricate task of placing a cocktail of drugs into the fillings of various Costcutter sandwiches. Of course, as always, he had to make sure that the lids were replaced perfectly and the labels smoothed with the tears hidden, to give the impression that they had never been opened. He picked up some clothes from the floor, the bottom of the wardrobe and the washing basket, then stuffed them into his rucksack along with 10 metres of LED lights, enough EL wire to light up a black hole, his ipod nano and huge subwoofer speakers. He delicately placed the sandwiches down the side of the bag, protecting them from every angle with packets of Mentos, and finally the ‘piece de resistance’ of these weapons of mass distraction, his half-cyborg, half-badger costume with the big, furry mechanical paws and PVC claws.
As he sat down on the bus, he took out his iPhone and logged in to foursquare to check whether any dealers were out and about so he could top-up on some extras. Junglejim was at The Den, while Cat Stevens69 was in The Cock, although neither was worth going out of his way for, so he decided to just head for the station. He quickly FB’d the RHG gang to let them know his ETA, then simultaneously updated his status while tweeting, adopting a witty and upbeat tone that was discordant with the monotonous hangover buzzing inside his head, getting last night’s story about asking the tattooed stripper for a second-hand discount down to only 145 characters.
He then cleared the camera of the stripper photos, uploading them onto flickr while the videos of everyone but him went straight on his youtube channel. He was far more organised and tidy in the virtual world than the real one. It seemed to be more important to him. The next few minutes were spent adding ridiculously esoteric captions to the photos that only the RHG gang would understand, but before he was finished, Tag had SMS’d him to let him know that the sniffer dogs looked pretty vicious.
When he arrived and saw these notorious dogs he sent Tag an emoticon giving him the finger. The reply was swift and consisted of an emoticon making an ‘O’ shape with its fingers that were dripping with white goo. These springer spaniels were more interested in guys’ arses and women’s crotches than drugs. And he doubted that anyone had gone that far in concealing their stash. The sandwiches, Mentos and badger costume appeared to have been the killer weapons of mass distraction, as the spaniels and pitbull security guards paid him little attention, although he got a flirtatious smile from the girl giving out the wristbands. She must have had a badger costume fetish. He quickly went on the ‘Xray SexSpecs’ app and held his iPhone up to her. She smiled innocently and ignorantly, thinking he was taking her photo, while his screen revealed a pair of tits around her size and shape. He then clicked on FestX GPS to help him find his mates’ campsite, who’d plotted their trail on the map via the readers in their iPhones and the chips in their trainers.
“Hey look, Titmash finally made it,” MGM remarked as Al approached the gang.
“With all the gear I hope,” sniffed Tag quietly.
“Yeah but you’ll have to wait till I need a shit. What? It was the only way to get past those sniffer dogs Tag.”
‘Ha bloody ha. What did you get anyway? Please don’t say it’s that NRG 11 shite.”
“Nope, the latest designer drug actually, my dopey friends.”
“What?” Glycerine snorted toxically.
“These glow in the dark suppositories full of MDMA, LSD, DKNY and Special K.”
“Nice one!” MGM drooled, grinning inanely.
“Well it’s a good job you didn’t smuggle those in up your arsehole,” quipped Tag.
“Ha, yeah. Plus I’ve got enough mephedrone to kill a hundred teenagers.”
“Whack it out then. I’m beginning to be able to taste my own tongue.”
Al craved for the lollipop in the elf’s mouth and began to stop caring about what would happen to him if he simply stole it. Being polite to her - or for all he knew, it might have been a ‘him’ - had been of no use, so he was going to take a more direct course of action. He reached for the stick and snatched hold of it, attempting to yank it out. But elves are known for their strong mouths. In fact, they use them rather than their hands to hold the ropes when they’re helping young fairies to practice flying: one end of the rope is tied to the fairy, while the other they hold in their mouths, then they run faster than any other land magical creature can, making the fairy take-off. And in reality, some fairies are really quite heavy, even the young ones.
Therefore, instead of just grabbing the lollipop, Al got the elf as well and she-he flew forwards on top of him while he fell down with a wallop on the grass. The elf’s penetrating blue eyes stared down into his fiery red ones, the lollipop still in his-her mouth, and it was while they were both in this somewhat awkward position that he heard a familiar voice.
‘Ere Titmash, wot yeh doin’ down there for fawkes’ sake,’ it said with glee. He looked up and saw a half-giant, half-rabid goblin staring down at him with a mental smile that had the power to summon pig dogs with just one flash. It was his mate, Mad-Grin Molester.
‘Haw, haw, looks like someone’s in need of a quick four-four to the floor,’ he bellowed while the elf threw him a dark look, twisting the lollipop round expertly in her mouth. It was hypnotising Mad-Grin and he stood leaning unsteadily towards the elf whilst gawping at the spiralling sweet, which seemed to change colour with every turn, making his eyes swivel about so quickly that they almost popped out of their sockets. Luckily Titmash knew the command, and he got up, raised his arms in the air and shouted, “Tuuuuuuuuuune!!!!!!” before speeding off in the direction of the dance floor.
He pushed past crazy creatures waving neon wands in the air, and got to the middle just as the tune ended. He turned to see whether Mad-Grin had followed, like a giant rat after the pied piper, and there he was, right next to him, attempting to steal the elf’s lollipop with his tongue. Suddenly, Al felt a fierce burning sensation in his forehead; a vision of a badger appeared in his mind beckoning him over.
Feeling more than a little nauseous, he battled his way back through the manic wands and balloons. When he broke free from the crowd, he looked down at the mechanical badger paws on his hands. They suddenly seemed real, somehow. He realised then how much he was sweating, no he wasn’t sweating, he was raining from the inside out; typical that when there’s not a cloud in the sky, he still got soaked. He fell on the grass, face-up, exhausted, the sound of music and laughter now muffled in the distance. The piercing pain came back to his forehead, as the ground seemed to shift, now feeling cool and smelling earthy. He saw worms emerging from behind the sky, wriggling out of tiny holes in the blue, and he had the strange urge to eat them.
Then a silver-white substance appeared before him in the air, neither gas nor liquid. It drifted forwards, dissolving the worms as it floated past them before hovering over his head. It sparkled in the sunlight, and he thought he could make out the shape of a dove. He watched it intently as it glided away from him and stopped still in a spot before vanishing into the ether. It wasn’t for a few more moments until he noticed the door. There were no walls, just a door, as if it was the entrance to the sky. Steps led up to it, and he was unsure whether he should discover what was behind this door. It could be his greatest fear: or his happiest moment. Then he noticed some more of the white substance, floating around the door from the other side: he took a deep breath, went up the steps and opened it.
‘Oi Titmash, where’ve you been?’ he heard a voice call from behind the pervasive silvery-whiteness. He stepped through the haze and saw his mate Tag sat in a circle of gnarled beings who looked like they’d been there for so long, they’d grown roots under the ground and bark over their skin. They were all holding magic wands. He then realised that the white essence was emanating from these wands that glowed at their tips.
‘Ere, what’s up, you’re looking a bit mental. This’ll sort you out,’ and Tag passed his magic wand over. Al held it delicately between his badger claws, staring at it until he heard a whistle, and looked up to see Tag raising his eyebrows at him and making the motion of putting his fingers to his mouth. But before he could do anything, a hideous shape came rushing towards them from beyond the pale. It was only when it was right in front of his nose that he could see its full gruesomeness. A scarred lizard’s face looked fixedly back at him, covered in piercings and foaming at the mouth. It was making a low, menacing sound.
‘Shit, crap, he needs another suppository!’ yelled Tag. Al had no idea what that meant and didn’t have the time to ask, even if he had been able to speak. He just pointed the wand at the lizard, and mumbled something under his breath. In an instant, the lizard calmed down and looked almost human as he grabbed the magic wand and put its tip to his lips. But the wand was disappearing fast, and was already half the size it had been a few moments ago. Al wasn’t going to hang around to see what would happen when it had vanished completely, so he jumped up and started running for his life.
He ran and ran, not daring to look behind him, not knowing what was in front of him. Everything now looked unfamiliar. He stumbled as his forehead throbbed with pain, felt the ground give way beneath his feet, his stomach lurching like on a rollercoaster, and he was falling, falling through the air. But it smelt so earthy, and he found it hard to breathe, as if he was being buried deep in the ground. He tried to focus his eyes on something but everything was a blur: with a jolt, he felt the ground again, his legs and arms reaching it with a thud. The pain in his forehead was now so intense that it obliterated any aches caused by his collision with the mud.
His face was interred in dirt and his mouth opened and closed automatically; he had no control over it. He was eating earth, or was it earthworms? There was a fight going on near him, he could feel the violent vibrations all over his body. He wondered whether his limbs were fighting of their own accord because his mind was too weak to help them, and lifted his head to find out. This is when he heard the sound. A low, howling growl that roused the fear that his eyes made clear as they stared with horror at two giant paws with gigantic claws; then slowly up to the burning, milky-white eyes that looked like they’d been ravaged by the darkness. But they could still see him.
What was this monster? Had he fallen into the set of the King of the Badgers? These thoughts raced through his mind while his body decided to make the decision to flee. But all around him were walls of earth, caging him in. He looked down at his hands that were still wearing the mechanical paws with plastic claws. Desperately he tried to dig himself out, before he was buried alive: then he was plunged into darkness.
Once upon a time and a very good time it was there was a mr badger living in the ground and this mr. badger met a nice little boy named ally wally who came to visit him in his house underground. Ally wally was scaredy at first coz mr badger is very very big but he gave ally wally a cup of tea and a biscuit and a little chair to sit down on.
He had heard this story before: he liked it so much that he kept on wanting it: he cried for it when it ended.
He was ally wally. Mr Badger knew the way back to his friends: he pointed to the path.
Tralala lala,
Tralala tralala,
Tralala lala,
Tralala lala.
His friends were all in a circle, dancing and singing. His friend Stephen Taggart looked at him through a dark glass: he had a funny face.
When you wet yourself first it is warm then it gets cold. Stephen gave him a funny look and said:
O, his nappy needs changing.
