Tales of Worrow Volume I Page 2

  So wrapped up in her thoughts she failed to notice the sound of the knocking at the front door, by the time she gets there her estranged teenage son is facing away from the door, kicking it with his heel. She thrusts the door open so that he falls inside. He picks himself up and Betty looks him in the eyes. Not a scratch upon his person, not a single bruise nor scar she shouts, “And who have you been fighting with?”

  “But mummmmm, no one….” he whines in his usual whiny tone.

  “Look at me,” she says and he does half-heartedly, she takes the corner of her apron and wipes a bit of mud from his face, “look at the state of you!”

  “But mummm…. I’m the Toker, the master cri…..”

  “Master Criminal or no, my son does not go out with mud all over his face understand? What if Roy and Shelia from next door see you, what would they think? Oh, what would they think?” Betty throws her hands in the air, “get upstairs now and tidy your room!”

  “I did that last year!” whines the Toker, flapping his arms at his sides and shrugging.

  “Go, and don’t come down until you’ve remembered the names of boys you’ve been fighting with!” she points to the stairs.

  The boy goes up them, “hate you!” he mutters under his breath, “hate it here!”

  “What was that?”

  “Nothing!”

  “I said, what was THAT?”

  “I said ok…ok?” he stamps on every step, the harder the further he goes up. Betty slams the door, I bet the whole neighbourhood heard that, she thinks in disgust. No matter how hard she tried to raise her son properly he still denied her discipline. It was going too far now in her opinion, a little teenage delinquency was one thing, but master criminal of all Gotjam City was simply not on, she ought to confiscate his PlayStation, that is where he gets all these silly ideas from.

  3.

  “Police Commissioner Gofer, is it true you are allowing this vigilante to roam the streets taking the law into their own hands?”

  “Police Commissioner Gordon if you don’t mind,” replied the gofer, the press really got his goat up, he sighed and continued, “and no, she is acting against the law and if and when we catch her she will be taken before Gotjam City court. Justice will be done, mark my words!”

  The journalists made notes in their Mr Men notepads, Gofer knew though they did not take heed of his words, they would twist them, edit them, they always did. It was a far cry from his old job, he hated this position, when will Philip Schofield come back for him he thought? I mean, what does Holly Willoughby have over him? Then he thought about it a bit more, her blond hair, pouting lips and startling good looks, well, I know what she has over me but still, Schofield, fucking deserter.

  I mean I’m not even telling the truth, thought the gofer, the press knew this too. He supported the vigilante superhero for he knew he did not have the resources to overcome the blight of the criminal underworld that was rising up in his city. He was powerless without Batmum, even Holly Willoughby wouldn’t be able to cope, and so what gives Phil?

  “Get Fern Britton on the phone!” demands the gofer as the press dismantle and leave.

  His second in command protested, “We can’t bring out the Fern, we don’t know what she is capable of……”

  “Just do it!” demands the Commissioner, “we have to be seen to be doing something!”

  After a busy day the Gofer goes home, sits alone in his flat, he jumps when he gets the feeling that someone is behind him. He looks, “How….how did you get in?” he nervously asks.

  “We want that same thing Commissioner, do not try and hunt me!” a voice spoke from a dark figure behind him.

  “I want that Toker banged up for good!” demands the gofer, head in his hands.

  “I’ve grounded him for a whole week because he’s been a very naughty boy; that gives you time to round up all the others,” the voice says, “I want this city cleaned up, it’s a bad influence on my little Toker. He’s a good boy really.”

  “Ok, what if I do as you say, after that you have to keep a low profile, the press and general public want me to arrest you,” said the commissioner, slowly reaching for his phone trying not to be noticed.

  “I’m out of here, you know what you have to do…..oh, and Commissioner?” asks the voice.

  “Ye….yes?”

  A rolling pin comes spinning from out of nowhere, knocking the phone out of the Gofer’s hand; “Leave the Fern out of this!” demands the voice.

  Gofer looks behind him but Batmum has mysteriously vanished like a bat in the night, there must be Corrie on the tele or something.

  4.

  A gathering of evil minds sit around a crumby table in a sweaty, dingy room on the nasty side of Gotjam City. They are all concerned; they do not know what to do. All of a sudden there is a bang on the window.

  “What was that?” jumps one of them.

  Another goes to the window, “ah, you jumpy bastard, just a pigeon hitting the window is all!”

  “Not the Batmum is it?” asks one nervously.

  “Don’t be so gods damn stupid!” shouts the one at the window, spitting through the gap in his teeth “If the Toker was here he would……”

  A voice from the window interrupts them, “BUT I AM HERE!!!”

  “Shit, the Toker!” they all cry.

  “YES! HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA HA!!!!” (there might have been a few more ha-ha’s but I thought it was enough to get the idea.)

  “Say, whatcha doin’ hanging from the window boss?” one asks.

  “Huh? Oh just shut up and let me in!”

  “Were you tryin’ to scare us by breaking in through the window boss?”

  “Huh? No, course not you idiot, I was, errr, errr, I was testing this window see if was strong enough to keep that pesky Batmum at bay while we thrash out this plan for the city Jewel theft!”

  “Arh, hooray!” they all shout, except one who asks, “How did you get out boss?”

  “I made a rope, organised a helicopter and just lifted myself outta there!” claimed the Toker. As he climbed in the window a note fell out of his pocket. The nearest gang member quickly picked it up and the Toker tried to snatch it back, “hey give it back, its mine!” He tried to thrash out at the guy but missed. The guy threw the note to another member, the Toker gave up the chase and looked down at his feet as the gang member now holding the note opened it and read; “Dear Mum, I am so sorry for fighting and that, I will not do it again I promise and if you let me out, just tonight I promise I will wash the dishes for a whole month, love Toker xx.”

  They all burst out laughing and the Toker sinks into his chair, “yeah laugh it up now you bunch of knobs, we will see who is laughing when I become the richest man in Gotjam!”

  They all shut up and sit around the table while the evil Toker lights up his bong. A bubble sound and a puff of smoke after he unfolds his master plan, infallible, watertight and, well, it may involve lots of muddy old football boots.

  5.

  That is one thing Batmum cannot stand, the Toker knows this. Muddy football boots, all over her nice clean carpet. No mum can stand this; she would be beside herself in anger, too preoccupied by sorting them out so that the heist could take place before she cottoned on. That was the Toker’s master plan and everyone had to admit that it was a stonkingly good idea.

  Betty was washing up, frustrated but not surprised that her son had not stuck to his promise. All of a sudden she heard footsteps, not one pair but many of them, marching up and down her hallway. “You better have taken your dirty boots off boys!” she yelled, “I’ve just cleaned that carpet!”

  The door slammed shut and she heard them all running away laughing. She went to have a look, she gasped, and there were muddy footprints everywhere, the carpet and even the walls. She screamed “TOKER!!!!” but it was no good, they were long gone. At the end of the hall the door was blocked by hundreds of football boots, dripping wet mud. She was filled by a red flush of anger and squeezed into her Ba
tmum outfit, “This is a job for Batmum!” she announced. She tried and tried to clean them, but there was so many. Just then the Batmum signal shot into the sky, Chief Commissioner needed her assistance. “Blast! I can’t go anywhere until I’ve sorted out these boots!” she shouted, raising her rolling pin to the sky in anger.

  Just then a man arrived in a green Ford Ka, he was wearing blue hot pants with white stars on them, a red boob-tube laced with gold and a yellow crown with a star on that. He stepped out of the car with a glum look on his face, “You’ve got a nerve showing your face around here Wonder Wanker!” shouted Batmum.

  “What? It’s my weekend to have the kids, or did you forget that?” he whined, walking up the garden path.

  “Well, they are out, probably getting into trouble again, no thanks to you!” she shouted, pointing out the bat-signal.

  “If you have to go I will sort out these boots,” he said and began bashing them together in an expert way, slates of mud with stud-holes going everywhere.

  “Clean the hallway too!” she demanded, Wonder Wanker knew his place, arguing got him nowhere. Batmum raced off to the museum.

  The gang were all there. “They’re trying to steal the city jewels!” cried Gofer, “they’re up in the tower of the museum, they have a hostage; a young girl by the name of Vicki Valve and they are demanding that we supply them with a helicopter to get away.”

  “Do not worry Commissioner, I will get them!” Batmum scaled the building and cut them off. In minutes she came back down, holding all the gang members either by the scruff of the neck or bended ear. “The only one still up there is that blasted Toker!” she informed the Chief as he thanked her and put the cuffs on the gang.

  A cop was shouting through a megaphone, “come down and talk, we are willing to listen to your demands, just do not harm the young girl!”

  “Give me that!” snapped Batmum snatching the megaphone off him and then she shouted through it, “TOKER! Its Mum, have you washed behind your ears?”

  A voice came from the museums clock tower, “Oh Mum, what do you want?” They saw him peer through the window, holding the girl in front of him.

  “Put that girl down right now, you don’t know where she’s been!”

  “But Mum! I want a helicopter! I want a helicopter mum, mum, mum I want a helicopter NOW!” he pleaded from tower.

  “You’ll get a sore arse when I get hold of you young man!” she shouted back. Just then his father, Wonder Wanker turned up at the scene, she turned her attention to him; “you cleaned up the hallway?”

  “Yep, all done!” he proudly said.

  “It was bloody quick,” she pointed out.

  “What did you expect, I am Wonder Man?!”

  “Yes well,” she replied, “that is the name you give yourself but I say it’s an oxymoron….and talking of morons, do you realise that our son is up there with some dirty slag from the dole queue?”

  “Oh let them be, they are only just starting out, learning the game, let’s encourage them,” said the dad. Then he went to the cop car and turned up the stereo, “let’s give them something to groove out to…..” He began to dance around, singing; “ain’t no doubt we are here to party!”

  The boy suddenly looked out the window; they heard him say, “Oh hell, that can’t be…..can it? No…not in his….no!!!” Sure enough his dad was outside, in his costume, dad-dancing around the road, his ex-wife, the Batmum staring in total disbelief with her hands on her hips.

  “Boogie Nights, come on now got to get it started. Dance with the funky gibbon, la-la-la, boogie nights are the best in town!” he continued, strutting around the car park.

  Red in face, the boy could be seen, “That is just like, so embarrassing! I might have to quit this whole idea and go climb under a rock!”

  “Oh don’t worry about them,” said Vicki Vale, “come here, I’ve got something to show you.” They both disappeared inside the tower for the best part of twenty seconds.

  “Wonder Wanker stop that at once,” shouted Batmum, “you’re not going to be able to embarrass him out like that!”

  “Well,” retorted Wonder Wanker, “you’re nagging isn’t going to work either!”

  Just then the Toker and Vicki Valve came out of the tower, hand in hand. They approached the Chief Commissioner and handed him the city jewels, “here you go sir,” said the Toker, “ever so sorry for the inconvenience.”

  He turned to his parents who stood staring in disbelief, “Father, your pathetic antics will embarrass me no longer and mother, your constant nagging has become tiresome and irritating however I wash my hands of you both from now on, this stupid and immature bickering has found its natural end; I’m over it now. Victoria and I intend to take a gap year in Thailand to go and find ourselves, goodbye forever!” And with that he walked away with his girl.

  “YOU WHAT???” shouted Batmum, “Come back here at once young man and as for you, you dirty little slapper I’ve a good mind to…….”

  Wonder Wanker held her back, “let them go Batmum, it is for the best.”

  The gofer came over and said, “Yes Batmum, thanks; you have saved Gotjam City once again, although I have reports that there is another criminal mastermind at work. He is stealing all known chocolate biscuit bars so he can get the monopoly of the chocolate biscuit bar business. They call him, The P, P, Pick up a Penguin, you have to stop him!”

  “Hummm,” replied Batmum rubbing her chin in contemplation “Sounds like what that young man needs is a healthy plate of cabbage and greens.”

  The Hounds of Hellington

  Darren Worrow

  1.

  Gareth’s hand swiped over the mirror, removing a section of the steam he frowned at the old face staring back at him; shit, I’ve aged 10 years in 10 minutes, he thought to himself. Picking up his razor he swished it down the left side of his chin and felt it contact his skin, “Shit!” he muttered through his foam covered lips. He turned to the toilet roll holder, stealing a small bit of the tissue, rolling it into a ball and attaching it to the blood covered spot on his chin.

  He finished the job, slower but still stressing to push on. When it was done he swashed his face with cold water, dried it and then sprayed some deodorant under both arms. I can’t believe this has happened in Hellington, it’s just the kind of shit I moved out of the city to avoid; he pondered in a frustrated manner.

  After getting dressed in his uniform he raced down the stairs like a bull at a gate, his wife was in the kitchen wondering what the fuss was about, she asked him; “what’s up dear?”

  He picked up the cup of tea, swigged it, burnt his mouth, swore and put it back on the kitchen’s worktop. “No time to explain, I’ve got to get to work, darling…..I’ll call you later.” With that he grabbed at the cold piece of toast on the side, flipped it up into his mouth, snatched some car keys from the table, his phone from the worktop, swung the kitchen door nearly off its hinges and jumped outside to face the cool morning air.

  Within minutes he was in Henry Crescent, pulled his car over onto a grass verge and leap out. There were a number of police cars already at the scene, people surrounded the grass area central to the crescent of houses, some were residents, clearly frustrated and confused, the others were Gareth’s colleagues, the small Hellington police force of six. Gareth knew that soon the city police force would be here, trying to take over; they can have the job, he thought, I came here for a peaceful life.

  Constable Jones, a young Welshman and Gareth’s favourite came running over to his car, “what is the situation Jones?” Gareth asked him.

  “Chief Inspector, it’s not good. About 6:30AM a man called Leonard Humphries came out of his abode at number 14 to let his cat out. His son, 6 years old, name of Daniel flew out of the house and Leonard called him back. When he didn’t come back he went out to get him. Just at that point a white van came into speeding into the crescent, stopping in-between Leonard and his son, swiped up the kid and abducted him. The father only got WH20 from his v
ehicle reg before it sped off. We are checking out all registration details that match Gareth, but no luck so far.”

  Gareth rubbed his chin, upsetting the shaving cut’s blood that had until then began to clot, “and where are the parents?” he asked.

  “Inside the house with Sheri, they are pretty broken up as you can imagine. Shit like this just doesn’t happen here, the whole neighbourhood are shocked.”

  “I need you and Gary, Bob and Sue in the cars, search this entire village and beyond for this white van, I will take over of the enquiries here.”

  “Quite a few of the neighbours are already circling the village but my guess is that he is miles away by now,” figured Jones, “I will get our team on it, most likely Ginger will be here soon.”

  “Yeah, I’m aware of that, those guys will want to take over Jones, lets prove we can handle this shit shall we, find this kid, now!”

  “Yes sir, don’t worry……”

  “We need the press distracted for now constable, keep ‘em away until I have spoken with the parents, ok?”

  “…If you want me on the search party sir?” Jones questioned.

  “Yeah, I do, fuck, we haven’t got enough men,” Gareth looked annoyed, staring around the small housing estate for the right number house, it was obvious, people were hanging around there. He walked over to it; this was the bit he really hated.

  It was a modest, well-kept council property, he walked into the house, put his hand on Sheri’s shoulder and she looked around, “oh Gareth,” she wined, “thank god you are here, this is…….”