Iris (or How To Fuel Panic By Mentioning The Word ‘Terror’) – Part Four

June 22nd, 2009

The horror, the horror…

The village of ‘Sanctuary’ was in a vicious area of the country surrounded by thieves, villains and wolves made of gold. Generally those who visited would only be frightened of the first two as golden wolves are quite heavy and slow-moving. In fact most of them were stolen and now occupy various people’s homes as doorstops and unlikely centrepieces at dinner parties. The thieves and villains were too dumb to work out that selling the wolves made of gold would make them a canny (Geordie!) profit and thus set them up for life. When Stirrup bumped into one of these at a water fountain he was consequently spat on in the most humiliating way possible. The thief in question, Bob, was having a horrible day. After discovering that golden wolves were worth a lot of money and remembering he had sold his for a bag of turnips he cursed everyone that strayed into his path. Stirrup was the fifth person, which was blessing as the other four had been put in hospital. Bob did his spitting and stormed off to look for something to pilfer.

They found Gums propped up at a bar called ‘The Foisty Armpit’. It was hard not to notice a gigantic mouth in an empty drinking establishment but Gums was drunk and making sure everyone, including the worried-looking staff and few stragglers sat outside, knew it. Stirrup heard the horrible things he was saying and cowered in the corner. Nasel could smell the alcohol on his breath and knew how drunk he was. Iris looked at Gums, drooping to one side, struggling to stand up properly, looking as though he needed the most help out of the four of them. She wandered up to his side slowly and looked, reading the words coming from her mouth. She now heard what Stirrup had heard and was appauled. This mouth could certainly speak like the filthiest whores of Droitwich. Using what little powers of persuasion she had, what we may as well call some sort of telepathy because five hundred words in we’re still not any closer to what it might be, Iris tried to reason with Gums. Gums however was having none of it and ordered another whisky and coke.

Just then Nasel ran into the backroom of the bar. Iris hadn’t a clue what was going on but it didn’t take long before she realised. Through the window of ‘The Foisty Armpit’ she could see five small, smartly-dressed individuals smoking cigars and chattering amongst themselves. It was the mafia penguins looking for Nasel. Iris nudged Stirrup into the back with Nasel and there they cowered, wishing for a means of escape and finding none. Willy, the leader of the penguins, stode into the bar and smacked his fist off the bar and gestured for a white wine spritzer. Not your usual mafia drink but really we shouldn’t judge. Gums, so pissed now he couldn’t get off the floor, couldn’t stop talking. He complained about having a hallucination about some facial features harrassing him, asking him to take his trousers off (that bit he made up), and wander into the crowd outside chanting like a monk (he made that bit up too). Willy asked where they were and Gums obliged in helping them.

With a tommy gun pressed against their forehead most people will feel very scared. Iris looked scared. Nasel froze, not wanting to sniff a jot. Stirrup heard the gunshots and was annoyed that he was having the worst time out of the three of them. The mafia penguins marched the trio outside in a cage welded to a carriage and locked them up. Gums grasped the side of the doorway as Willy gave the order and the horses pulled them away. Although he didn’t have any eyes Gums was convinced he could see them all looking as depressed as three people would do in their condition. Perhaps it was the drink talking. It had, after all, convinced him that he could:

A) Climb trees.

B) Cut holes in ice with his tongue.

C) Sing like Mariah Carey.

and now he could see? Utterly ridiculous. The mouth stumbled back into what he called his home, his church and his life and ordered another drink.

Entry Filed under: Bedtime stories,Ian,Quite nice