Renegade T.M. (26 page)

“
Okay, I think I see what’s going on now
,”
declared the mind-beanie.

“
At last
,”
sighed Dink, relieved that the truth did finally will out.

“
You’re late by
,”
the machine paused as if checking some computer taskbar clock
,
“
three and a ha
lf cycles
, because…”

The room was perched on a knife edge, and Slip tucked into a cheese wedge.

“
Rather then come to work at the expected
time, you decided instead to…”

This was proving to be a little too much to bear for Dink, and Slip was still hungry.

“
Go cushion shopping and fishing
!”
f
inished the mind-beanie damningly.

“
Noooooo
!”
he cried
in despair
,
“
that’s not true, that’s not what happened at all
!”

“
I fear that is exactly how it happened
,”
continued the machine
,
“
the appearance of these cushionless fools only confirms it
.”

“
Why are you doing this to me
?”
he pleaded with the trio.

“
Oh don’t try and lie your way out of this now
,”
warned the device
,
“
if there’s anything I can’t abide, it’s liars
.”

“
Well said
,”
agreed Slip turning to leave
,
“
well we must be getting back to the futon company
.”

“
Oh and Mr Mormid
,”
added the mind-beanie
,
“
you’re fired
.”

“
Please don’t fire me
,”
Dink grovelled, but it was too late, for the machine had gone into standby mode.

“
You’ve done it again
!”
he wailed
,
“
ruined my life
!”

“
Oh don’t mention it
,”
replied Slip not paying any
real
attention.

“
I’m…” he began
, growing redder with every word.

“
Going…”

“
To…”

“
KILL YOU
!”

“
Guys
,”
said Crinkle hurriedly
,
“
run
!”

Pete, Slip, and Crinkle then legged it, with Dink in hot pursuit. Crashing through the atrium, the cyber-secretary barely batt
ed an eyelid, before lethargically
pushing the alarm button and calling for the Orderlies.

“
Kill Ben
,”
grumbled Pete to himself as he swam away from the palace
,
“
as if it was that easy! He’s a big shark, and I’m just a little fish! And how in haddock am I suppose to find him anyway?
!”

“
Hello
,”
said Ben the shark, who had been following him for some time now.

“
Whoa
!”
Pete replied, startled by his sudden appearance
,
“
who said that?
!”

“
Ben, Ben the shark, how do you do
?”
he introduced himself.

“
Oh fine thank you, thank you very much indeed kind sir
,”
babbled Pete, staring at his enormous, razor-sharp teeth.

“
I understand you want to kill me
?”
questioned Ben.

“
Erm, yes
,”
he
replied, having yet to engage his brain
,
“
yes I do
.”

“
I see
,”
replied the shark, licking one of his enormous fangs
,
“
well what’s stopping you
then? H
ere I am, kill away
.”

“
No
,
no
,”
he quickly replied realising what he had just said
,
“
I think you misunderstand me
.”

“
Do I now
,”
replied the shark slyly.

“
I don’t want to
kill
you, I want to
thrill
you
.”

“
Thrill me huh
,”
replie
d the shark sounding anything but convinced
,
“
and how pray tell, do you intend to thrill me exactly
?”

“
I was thinking dinner and a movie
?”
s
uggested Pete.

“
How about we just skip the movie
,”
replied Ben menacingly.

“
Sure thing, what do you fancy, Indian, Chinese, Italian
?”

“
What about fish and chips
?”

“
Erm okay
,”
he squeaked
, clearly frightened now
,
“
what restaurant would you recommend
?”

“
Oh we could eat right here
,”
stated the shark matter-of-factly.

“
So you’ve brought a pack-lunch
?”

“
Not exactly
,”
replied Ben, advancing on him
with his jaws wide open.

Pete was about to die, he would be swallowed up by a very misleading shark who clearly had some unresolved issues, and would never see the Renegade gang again. As he puzzled over who or what the Renegade gang was, he felt an anger brewing inside of him. An anger born from his wasted life and farcical job in
advertising, his cheating girl
friend and stupid, exploding car. Before he could make neither head nor tails of all these weird and un-wonderful thoughts, he opened his mouth and shouted:

“
Your muther is so fat, that whenever she sits down, a new star is born
!”

This stopped the shark sharply in his tracks.

“
Oh no you didn’t
!”
s
houted Ben
,
“
well your muther is so stupid, that she has to sign her name with a winking smiley
!”

“
Well your muther is so stupid
,”
he yelled
back, warming to the t
opic
,
“
that she sits on the telly
to watch the sofa
!”

“
Well your muther is so ugly, that when she looks in a mirror,
she
cracks
!”
s
houted Ben.

“
Well your muther is so stingy, that
she won’t buy anything that’s over ninety-nine pence
in Poundland
!”

“
Well your muther is so ugly, that she came runner up at Crufts
!”

“
Well your muther is so fat, that she has to book every seat in the plane when she flies
!”

“
Well your muther is so fat, that when she goes swimming, whales ride on her back
!”

“
Well your muther is so old, that when she recalls the big bang, she was already at university!
”

“
Well your muther is so slow, that she thinks having a bubble bath is a frenetic, danger-laden trial
!”

“
Well your muther is so stupid, that she failed a blood test
!”

“
Well your muther is so stupid, that she thinks getting a bee in your bonnet is a recognized qualification
!”

“
Well your muther is so fat, that when she did a dive bomb at the swimming pool, onlookers thought it was a re-enactment of Pearl Harbour
!”

This went on for many circuits, neither being willing to concede. The sun set on the fish-tank and throughout the night
, “
your muther
”
barbs were traded pitilessly between the two foes. As a new day dawned on the Kingdom of Slip, the duo were
,
by
now desperately tired, and had lost the angry vigour
that had sustained them for so
long.

“
Your muther is so stupid that…”
Pete was desperately trying to think of something pithy, before coming up with the less than convincing
“
…
That her IQ is 70
.”

“
Your muther is so stupid, that her IQ is 60
,”
came back a flagging Ben.

“
Your muther is so stupid, that her IQ is 45
,”
he
fought on
valiantly
.

“
ENOUGH
!”
s
houted the shark
,
“
okay, okay, you win, I am defeated
!”

“
Your muther…”

“
STOP
!”
Ben shouted
,
“
I yield okay, you win
!”

“
Oh right
,”
he
realised
finally
, not really knowing how to celebrate his victory
,
“
great
.”

“
You are indeed a mighty warrior
,”
said the shark
,
“
and if I’m brutally honest, I actually ne
ver knew my mother.”

Pete could not
be certain, but he was almost sure he could hear a violin start playing somewhere, a melody so heart wrenching, that even the coldest hearted fish would thaw.

“
I was just a tiny shark when they found me, abandoned on the doorstep of the orphanage. There was no note about me, all I possessed was a dirty torn blanket in which I was wrapped, and a photograph of some man I have no recall of, his name scrawled underneath as
Pierre
. The orphanage took pity on me and raised me in the strict accustoms they were used to, and there I stayed until that fateful day when the meteorites came. All I had come to know was destroyed that day. They fell from the sky, toppling buildings and making deep chasms into the ground. Those who weren’t killed instantly, died later from the radiation, until I was the only one left, alone, as I had started life, and looked set to remain
.”

Pete stared at the shark, tears welling-u
p in the beast’s eyes, and said, “y
our muther is so horrible, that she got kicked off the Evil Factor for being a professional
!”

This was too much for Ben the shark, who suddenly broke down in tears and rolled into a ball
,
as best a
ny
shark can.

39.

Dink had lost the Renegade trio outside the Rikorn offices, and all he could think to do now was to get home, quickly and recklessly if need be. He made a made a mental note to exact a horrible and twisted revenge on the Renegade gang at a later date, and hailing a transportable, jumped in. It seemed like only moments later that he was back in his own living unit, kicking off his shoes and making his way upstairs, wishing painfully that Petunia was out somewhere.

He opened the door to their bedroom to discover she was not. In fact it turned out that she had company. It then turned out that the whereabouts of his boss Mr Framer were no longer unknown.

“What?!” she shouted angrily at him.

Dink was stunned. Not in any cheated-on, wounded pride type of way, but rather what he was observing had left him confused and unable to react. Mr Framer, without the aid of his mind-beanie was nothing more then a giant jelly, unable to communicate or portray any emotion. The only thing that this gelatine mass could do then was float about on a levi-aid, and occasionally make a disgusting squelching noise that sounded very much like the creation of road-kill on hot motorway afternoon. He had caught them in the act of what he imagined must constitute love making for his boss’s species. Pentunia was stark naked encased in the jelly so that only her head stuck out the top, Mr Framer wobbled about with her inside, his levi-aid now defunct at the side of the room.

“Is that..?”

“It is,” replied Petunia quickly, not showing any level of remorse.

“And is that..?”

“What?” she interrupted again, “fun?”

“Normal?” he finished.

“Of course it’s normal you numpt, in fact, on his planet, he is considered something of an expert.”

“What?! An expert in wobble jelly?!”

“An expert in the art of love,” she replied without the faintest trace of irony.

“Are you saying that
that
,” he said pointing accusingly at them both, “is preferable in the bedroom to myself?!”

“Oh God yes, practically everything is.”

“Like what?”

“Oh I don’t know, like ironing, stubbing my toe, cancer.”

“What about the time we spent the whole night…”

“Hard-light hologram,” she interrupted.

“And the holiday in the Diamond Nebula?”

“Memory implant.”

“Is there anything you like about me Petunia?”

Her face seemed to crease all of a sudden, as she racked the deepest recesses of her brain hunting for any appealing facet to their relationship. It appeared briefly that she might have something, before he realised that actually she had just been trying to scratch an itch, (fairly difficult to do when you are entirely entombed in jelly).

“Nope,” she answered.

“Then why are you still here?”

“Why am
I
still here?! WHY AM
I
STILL HERE?!”

He had clearly angered her with this question. This was fairly deductible from the way she was currently shouting, but perhaps even more evident in the fact that she had then released herself from her gelatine embrace, and retrieved down from the wall his ancient fung-ku sword which she was now pointing eagerly at him.

“I despise you Dinkle Mormid!” she bellowed advancing upon him with the sword, “the only thing that I have left to live for, is to see the look on your face when I kill you!”

“Bit harsh,” he pipped meekly.

“I’m really going to enjoy this,” she growled raising the sword up for the kill.

“Wait!” shouted Pete barging into the room all of a sudden.

“Who’s this clown?!”