Wobbly Dog and Flat Kitty – A Film Noir

August 30th, 2006

*Removes the image of Marshall in suspenders from his head and continues writing/typing*

I would love to say that they were eaten and torn apart by the mysterious monsters but I don’t even think that I’m that cruel. Tyres kind. Footsteps rattle on the hard road surface. Four characters let what seems like a thousand bullets from their AK47’s, turning the army into a bloody mess in seconds. “Who are you,” commanded Wobbly Dog, “and what are these things?”

“We’re racist, jive-talking vampire ninja bunnies!” gloated the tallest, letting a hail of bullets stream into the sky never to return. “Are you kidding me?” shouted Wobby rubbing his eyes in disbelief. They were the unlikliest of heroes being that they clearly were chasing too many bandwagons with hobbies such as theirs. Everything that could go wrong was pretty much going wrong, like a prequel to Star Wars. Wobbly and Kitty were bundled into the back of the vigilantes’ jeep and off they sped. Like a panda on heat. “So let me get this straight,” rationalised Kitty, her eyes twinkling in the limited light, “you are a bunch of vigilantes who also happen to be vampire ninja bunnies?” They all turned around to meet her feline gaze. The one in the passenger seat spoke, “Hi I’m Mark, and don’t forget the jive-talking racist part. We love being racist…”
“…and jive-talking, it’s great,” said the driver who swerved past a raccoon in the middle of the road. Wobbly stood up. “So what were those things back there?” The driver spoke again, in a cool, calming voice, “they’re meteorites, exposed to salt and toxic waste. Sort of it Superman decided to give up flying and walk around in tatty clothes instead. It’d be the same sort of situation I think.”
“I think too,” said the ninja next to Kitty. “I most heartedly agree,” said Mark in the front seat. “Superman wasn’t a meteorite,” butted in Kitty, but her valid point was lost in the madness. “Anyway we’ve been fighting them for a million…”
“One million two hundred,” said Mark
“One million two hundred years,” continued the driver, “They never seem to go away. There’s like an inexplicable unlimited supply of them.”

The jeep reached its destination and everyone got out.Their headquarters was a disused community drama group building, the dusty costumes still hanging on their pegs waiting for the owners to return. A hug statue stood in the middle of the stage. “Looks like Lionel Blair,” whispered Wobbly as they were pushed into the centre of the room. “What do you want with us?” demanded Kitty, “are we prisoners or companions?” Mark looked at the others and turned back to his audience. “You’re our audience! We’ve been working on this little number for three years. Do you wanna hear it?” Wobbly and Kitty looked at each other, unsure as how to handle the situation. Before they’d even had a chance to say anything Mark shunted her away with, “okay let’s go!” The members of the racist jive-talking vampire ninja bunnies lined up and put huge smiles on their faces. A song ensued:

“We’re green, like the grass,
 We’re red, like the sun.
 We’re yellow like butter,
 But blue cos no-one,
 Loves us like purple,
 Set in our ways,
 Treats us like ladies,
 When we eat nobody pays.

 Dainty hankies in our pockets,
 Ready to dab away those crumbs.
 A package of lovliness,
 Monsters are no fun.

 Oh we might sound like meanies,
 We all hate the fallen,
 Being racist means acting like
 Hitler and Stalin…”

“Where’d they leave the keys?” asked Wobbly. “I already stole them from the first idiot,” murumured Kitty. With the haste of two figments of my imagination they made a dash for the jeep, slammed the doors shut, stuck on the radio and zoomed off. Kitty did the pedals. Wobbly used the steering wheel. Kitty turned the radio off when Barry Manilow appeared. With all their might they navigated out of the bitter back streets to the main road and using Wobbly’s keen sense of smell they drove hundreds of miles, down wrong ways and right ways past huge windows and pounting gays back to their house. It was almost light when they parked. “I need a drink, this night was f*cking sh*t” said Kitty. Wobbly looked at her not understanding what she had said. “What did you just say Kitty?” asked Wobbly. Kitty looked shifty with her eyes but shrugged and said, “I’m so glad to be home, I want to snuggle wuggle on the mat by the fire so I can rest my tired bones.” Wobbly smiled. They closed the door in joy.

Entry Filed under: Bedtime stories,Ian,Things