This book should be on Amazon by the end of January 2022. Here is a little bit for your entertainment.
Of Teds and Beatniks.
Meanwhile back in the fart filled foetid swamps of Witchland.
The influence of the Thinking winking wan King of the Witches can be smelt emanating from the rotten Dahlias of Doom, like the putrid cabbage smell derived from certain family members who really ought to see a doctor and get it sorted. Our Five Fearful Fellows forge forward through this phantasmagorical fantasy fuelled fable.
Mad Magdalene goes on dirty toes to save her shoes from gravel. Irate Tom of Bedlam is looking remarkably spry for a man of his indeterminate age. Ken and Wayne, never the smartest of shroom cultivators, are somewhat bedraggled, and are finding the oppressive nature of the swampy woods rather takes away their joy of shouting ‘Wurlitzer!’
Oh! how they didn’t laugh.
These two pesky varmints were known for the japes and capes and jokes and pokes; they normally frolicked like new-born lambs in a cataclysm of clichés. Now it was more likely they would just say ‘frolics to it all’.
And what of Fairy Hanny?
Well, it will be of no great surprise to realise that this stoic Handmaiden of the Fat King Innocent, Carried on Regardless. She would have preferred to Carry on Cruising with her cousin Mutch; however, she’d accept she would have to Carry on Camping with this bunch of buffoons. The swamp wood was depressing, and she understood that soon they would have to Carry on up the Jungle in order to locate the Castle of Grumbleflick. Her only real concern just now related to the creepy looks she sometimes got from Ken Tucky; looks that said he’d like to Carry on up the Khyber.
What a Carry On!
And then there were the Carrion. Vultures without Cultures, Eagles eating Beagles, Magpies with Stag pies, and Ravens with cravings for tomato chutney; waiting (waiting), waiting for you!
Then one day, one special day they passed that way, and spoke of many things, of fools and Kings, and Cabbages and things. The air grew less tiresome as the land rose slowly from the swampy stuff and the land beneath their feet began to dry out. There was a slight rise in ground level allowing for precipitation to run off to lower points, which is a sort of gravity thing, water tending to fall downhill except when it can flow up hill. Which is never. Except when you get the kiss of Poseidon. The dead Dahlias had disappeared to be replaced by more charming flowers such as the periwinkle, foxglove and red-hot poker.
“We must be in the Land O’Bloom,” said a Slightly miffed Tom of Bedlam.
“How do you know that?” asked Wayne.
“Two things; I’ve been here before; and there is a sign up ahead that says, ‘Welcome to the Land O’Bloom’.”
“So does that mean we’ve all been here before?” asked Ken.
“We have all been here before!” stated the existential Magdalene.
“If I had ever been here before I would probably know just what to do!” said Hanny.
“If I had ever been here before on another time around the wheel I would probably know how to deal with all of you!”
“She always says that” declared Tom. “Gives me a distinct sense of Deja vu.”
Hanny paused – she sensed she’d been through this conversation before.
The practical side took control.
“So, I take it that means we’re now not too far from the Castle of Grumbleflick the Witch king and therefore the Witch Iz. We can get in there, destroy her Time pulsing RING, save Uranus and get back to Fairy Mutch?”
Tom sniffed. The damp of the swamp had given him a slight chill, so he was trying to prevent having a silvery line of snot laying across his philtrum. Hanny thought he was being derisive.
“Are you being derisive Tom? If so don’t blame me if your meat and two veg part company!” threatened Hanny.
“Just a snotty nose,” replied the sinus infected traveller.
Poor choice of words in his reply. Hanny was well known for her sense of superiority (and her big tits).
“Are you implying that I am a conceited arrogant Fairy?” she asked.
“Tut tut!” said Magdalene, “this happened next week as well. No dear he has a slight head cold due to the inclement conditions; he is trying to prevent the nasal mucus from besmirching his upper lip. Hence the sniff.”
Hanny glared a glaring glare. She slowly allowed her anger to ebb away, assuming the adverse conditions and the impending threat of death were starting to get to her temper.
“Conceited arrogant bitch,” muttered Magdalene.
The Land O’Bloom was developing as something of a macabre tourist destination. Way off to the east in the land of the Fairies, Pixy’s, Elves, Dwarfs and Orcs were far more settled. The Orcs had mostly given up the practice of eating others, preferring instead to spread fear as Financial Advisors and Tax Inspectors. Yes, there were occasional bouts of silliness when the Gremlins got out of hand, or if a Twisty Headed Fire Dragon went on the rampage; but generally, things were super safe. Even the attempted coup by the Trolls and the raising of the Trolletariat had faded to nothing eventually; just slightly better conditions for those that live under bridges.
Here in Witchland there were genuine scary things to see and be frightened by. Vampyres, Zombies and Witches patrolled the streets, whilst having their photographs taken with and by the tourists, occasionally marking out some unfortunate soul who would not be going home that night. It’s the risk. Not that it makes any sense to me; like trawling through graveyards to find the last resting place of rock stars.
‘Here lies the remains of Lazarus Git, lead guitarist with the Rooty Toots, gigging in the great club in the sky. Rock In Peace.’
The change in altitude and humidity had done wonders to perk up the spirits of Ken and Wayne.
“Frabjous Day! Wurlitzer! Thankyou very much!” they chorused. “Time to lay off my blue suede shoes!”
“What does that mean?” asked Hanny.
“Lay off my blue suede shoes!”
“Oh, it’s something we get the chickens to do back in the Ghetto (In the Ghetto). If the chicken stands on your shoe and lays an egg it is a sign of good luck, especially if you’re wearing blue suede shoes. So ‘lay off my blue suede shoes’ means ‘wish me luck’.”
Hanny had a face pursed up like a cat’s arse as she stared in disbelief at the dancing duo.
“Do you remember next time we were here,” asked Tom. “What happened next?”
“Your memory is getting frazzled Tom! It was a few times after this that we were here next. Don’t you remember, you misdirected the tachyon neutrino cross flux discombobulator, detached the alligator sprockets, pushed the banjo junction in the wrong union and almost ran out of Travel Gravel? So, we went forward a bit, back a bit, left a bit and tried for a Golden Shot with the Monkey Man. Then you reversed the neutron polarity and the electron spin and went back to the beginning of the book. I think you need a session with some of the Warriors on the Edge of Time!” recalled Mad Magdalene.
Hanny, Ken and Wayne did not have a clue what that last conversation was about (and neither do I). Some sort of pseudo-Physics quantum telemetry gluon theory. Possibly the tenfold way and maybe that’s the way God planned it.”