Private (Third) Eye - Places Unknown

I was lost. I didn't know where I was but that's why these places were called Unknown. I turned a corner and stopped dead in my shoes. The air was full of the sound of jingling bells and the smell of Ploughman's lunches. That meant trouble. Trouble meant bad guys and much like grapes, bananas and little girls hair, bad guys usually came in bunches. I adjusted my hat to the most rakish of angles and stepped lightly on my way. If I'd been a spider or a superhero my senses would have been tingling. As it was the only thing tingling was my rash (I had some cream but it was locked in my office) but I still knew something diabolical was ahead. Around another corner I stalked only to be greeted by my fourth least favourite thing in the world. Morris Dancers. As I counted the white clad, stick wielding, dancing menaces my mind was trying to find the right word for a collective name of Morris Dancers. An Annoyance was my final decision as I sprung into action. Preemptive you might think but I'd seen these sorts of people with their pristine white outfits and bumpkinesque version of voodoo rain dances murder more than one song and village fete in my time and I wasn't going to allow them to take me in the same way. I moved quickly and quietly around the outside of the gathering like a well dressed and rather handsome Lion stalking a herd of bearded and annoying Gazelles. One of the Morris Men, a small and sickly looking one, was forced from the group and headed towards a bench for what I could only assume to be a sinister rest. I grabbed a stale baguette, which along with cheese is the main source of power for the Morris Dancer, and put him to sleep with only twelve or thirteen hearty blows of the bread cudgel. I slipped into his uniform like a Mars bar descending into a Glaswegian deep fat fryer and moved into the middle of the throng. I smiled and nodded as I took my place. I was feeling smug and invisible when I realised leaving my Fedora on was probably a mistake. Bearded faces turned toward me. Running on pure instinct and a bottle of cough medicine (don't ask) I launched myself at them. With a flurry of my borrowed stick I began to clean house. One by one the merry men of the apocalypse went down, the whole affair made a lot easier by the fact that the musicians kept playing, helping me to keep time. As the song came to its natural conclusion the audience applauded in a confused manner and a pile of middle aged men with bells on lay in front of me. Justice or a random assault at an innocent folk gathering? I let them make their own minds up as I slipped into something a bit more stereotypical and looked up. Those two pigeons were sat on a weather vane, a leaf tucked into one of their beaks. Was the pot plant offering the olive branch of peace? I was going to find out.

Private (Third) Eye - Ambling Further

With the smell of burning cafe and the tinkling of sirens in the air I turned into an alley way. I had no desire to see the boys in blue until I'd figured out what was going on. My jigsaw was missing a piece, probably an edge, and I needed to find the sofa it was under or the child whose mouth it was in. Those were metaphors. They had to be, just think how big a kid we would be talking otherwise. My shoes echoed off the walls. The urine just dripped down them. A bag tumbled out from behind a dustbin. I knew something was wrong when the bag spoke. "You with the head", (not that again), "you gotta help me." The bag looked a lot like a middle aged guy who needed a wash. "We all got problems Mr Bag and I ain't got time for yours." I wasn't being harsh. My nostrils were threatening to go on strike unless I aimed them away from him. "Buddy, please. My wardrobe. In my wardrobe." I don't know what he'd heard but I'd not been near his or any wardrobe since the hanger incident. "No, you don't understand". He'd got that right. "I'm a banker." He'd got that right too judging by the stains. "Or at least I was. They took it all and now they're going to take my house. If they do that they'll see what's in my wardrobe." This guy was either a whack job or he had something weird in his wardrobe. "What have you got in there? Tell me quick and try to aim yourself down wind." The bag opened his mouth. It could have been to answer, maybe he was just showing me his teeth, either way he didn't do anything other that grimace as a jar of jam hit him square in the eye. I looked over my shoulder just as seven or eight sponge fingers embedded themselves into the wall. The bag was clearing jam from his mouth (they really were very nice teeth) as 12 ounces of frozen raspberries peppered him. Could a raspberry pepper something? I didn't know. Before I could decide one way or the other I heard the telltale glug of a bottle in mid-flight, thrown right handed probably around shoulder height. Sherry. I'd bet the bag's life on it. I stuck out a hand and caught a Croft Original Pale Cream bottle. Mr Throwie Throwerson at least had some taste. "He's trifling with the wrong guy" I mumbled. The bag groaned. "All this for that one joke? That's terrible!" I'd had enough of this luggage. It was time to go. I took a swig from the Sherry then politely introduced the bag's head and the bottle. He'd have plenty of time to drink it when he'd woken up. I grabbed the bin lid and frisbee'd it down the alley towards the dessert fiend. Could it be the custard villain? I thought that was the was the plants leafy work. There was a lot to consider as I hot footed it to places unknown.

Private (Third) Eye - Ambling

I was walking but I didn't know where. Like a monkey skippering an old Tea Clipper I had no heading. You might say I was headless. You might but I knew what was underneath my hat. A voice rang out. "You there. The one with the head" (see). I turned as the waitress from the Usual ran up to me. I'd been here before. The thrill of action can be a turn on for some dames. I looked her up and down. Then up again. "Is that a gun in your pocket or are you just pleased to see me honey?" Just like a shopping trolley her eyes were all over the place. "No, there's a gun in my pocket." She pulled out a piece. "It's the one that ogre had. It seemed really odd that you'd leave it there for him when he wakes up." I liked this girl. Not only was she a decent citizen doing what little she could to make a difference, she also had legs that went all the way up to her body. The great rack just made her easier to appreciate. "What's your name kid?" She flashed a ten dollar smile and pulled the trigger. She was spirited. We both stood there waiting to see what happened. "I realised the gun had blanks in it when you weren't hit at point blank range." So she was a little crazy, I wasn't going to hold that against her. "Honey I dodged those bullets." I did, I'm just that good. She took out the clip, I guess she learnt how from watching cop shows, and showed me the blank cartridge. "If he was firing blanks then where did these come from?" I lifted my right arm. There were three perfect little holes. I'm not a guy to tell tales but she swooned a little. They all swoon a little. I took the gun and tipped my hat. Always leave them wanting more. Also I'd seen that the Usual was on fire and I didn't want any part of that. I skipped away thinking for the first time this year that I really should replace this moth eaten old raincoat. I thought of the dead coffee pot. My coat deserved better.

Private (Third) Eye - Brunch

I walked in and took my seat in the Usual cafe. I called it the Usual as I ate there everyday (you come up with a better name). I had no need for the menu. Menu's are for the masses and I knew eggs and coffee were all I wanted. As I was looking around for the pretty waitress I caught her eye. She smiled at me and said "nice catch". Her false eye had been knocked loose by the gun pressed against her head. This was turning out to be an annoying couple of days. I removed my hat and stood up. The gunman, shop-gimp neanderthal idiot that he was, happened to be a giant. If I had to guess I'd say he was somewhere between a shade over 7ft and a tad under 8ft. "Now listen here fucko," I wasn't in the mood for sweet talk and my neck hurt from trying to look him in the eye, "The kind waitress has customers to serve so why don't you act like a gent and point your gun some other place." I remembered too late that at times like these it was best to give clear instructions especially when dealing with intelligence challenged, gun toting goons. He got off three quick shots, all in my general direction. I dodged left, dropped into a roll and came up to his right. Unfortunately this happened to be exactly where his gun was pointing. I grabbed a silver toast rack and waved it back and forth in front of his eyes before throwing it up above his head. Oxygen thief goons are just like dogs, children and midgets - easily distracted by shiny objects. I tapped him delicately once or two on the head with a coffee pot and he seemed comfortable enough in a heap on the floor. "No! No you fool." The waitress seemed excited about something. Turns out the now broken coffee pot only had four more days until retirement. I paid my condolences, returned the baby blue to the waitress and left. I was still hungry.

Private (Third) Eye - Tuesday Morning.

I found out where in the hell I was when I busted through a solid metal door. It wasn't easy let me tell you and I ruined a perfectly serviceable ten year old, brown pair of shoes, size 9. After I'd cleared the custard from my eyes I knew at once that the lights were not on. That was okay as sunlight was flooding into the room. When I say room I mean the window display to Selfridges. I have to admit, this was the third weirdest place I'd ever woken up. Now I'd regained my senses it was clear to me. The scattered leaves meant that plant was involved in this. The muddy boot prints told me he wasn't working alone. That stood to reason, the plant had no opposable thumbs, how would he pick anything up? Looking around I realised I wasn't alone. Peering through the window at me were two pigeons and a dustman. The dustman was fine, just a hard working Joe making a buck, but those beady little pigeon eyes were following my every move. I'd not moved yet but when I did my suspicions were confirmed. So, a plant, a guy with muddy boots and a couple of winged devils. Things were getting interesting. I took the quick way out of the shop, using a skeleton key in the shape of a mannequin to gently open the window. The pigeon's took flight as I stepped onto the pavement. For the first time in a fortnight I wished for the power of flight. Not to catch them, just to follow. I knew as well as they did, as well as every pigeon knows, they were just pawns in another guys game of chess. I guess that made me the Knight. Or the Queen but I wasn't going to pull at that thread again. I looked at the spot on my arm where my watch used to be. I was hungry so it was breakfast time.

Moontalk

"Are you sure no-one is outside?" Jeremy poked his helmeted head off the side of the sofa, his eyes wide and a slight tremble in his voice.
"Not a soul is inside this apartment except the two of us. Now, are you sure you wouldn't be more comfortable if you took your helmet off?" Debbie, Ms. Cole to her clients, was excited to have her first patient. She'd always wanted to be a psychiatrist. When she was a little girl she would analyse her dolls, prescribing them ginger biscuits as some form of mental cure all. She'd never poked at the reason she wanted to wallow around inside peoples heads too much, it might have had something to do with her nervous breakdown and all of the therapy she'd had but she wasn't too sure. "It might be easier for us to talk without........"
"I told you, I can't take my helmet off. How will I breathe if I do?"
"You do know that you're not in space now?"
"That's easy for you to say."
"May I ask you, Jeremy, when you first became scared of removing your helmet?" Jeremy leaned back into the cushion, his head resting inside his space helmet five or six inches above. His eyes widened and rolled as obviously he relived the exact moment.
"Well I'm no therapist, I'm sure I would remember if I was, but my instinct tells me my fear might have something to do with when my fucking helmet came off my fucking head when i was in fucking space." His eyes opened and he looked at Ms. Cole. "What do you think?"
"I have to admit you might be right. Lack of oxygen and your innards feeling like they might explode in the black vacuum of space could well lead someone to fear removing their helmet."
"Excellent. I'm so pleased NASA spent so much money paying you to put my mind back together."
"I sense a hint of sarcasm in your tone Jeremy."
"A hint? Damn, I was aiming for a boatload."
"Alright. So we are agreed on two points. Firstly, you are a sarcastic git. Secondly, you have a fear of lack of oxygen. This fear could be rational or irrational, that is yet to be decided. What I am still unsure of is your reported sighting of a small girl with blond ringlets floating beside you whilst you suffocated."
"What's not to understand?"
"Well, Jeremy, do you think you might have imagined this small child? Could she not have been some figment of your imagination brought on by asphyxiation as a result of your helmet coming off whilst you were spacewalking?"
"Ms. Cole, you will forgive me when I tell you that as logical as your summation might be, it is entirely false."
"And why is it false?"
"Because that little blond monster is right behind you now." Ms. Cole smiled at such a childish fear and hallucination. Her training however told her she should pursue this line of thought to encourage her patient to open up and talk to her. she turned towards where Jeremy was looking. The last thing Debbie, Ms. Cole to her patients, saw was her encyclopedia of mental health problems (a weighty tome as any mental health practitioner will tell you) being brought down upon her head by a small girl with blond ringlets. Jeremy sighed into his helmet. "I suppose I 'll have to find another shrink then." The small girl with blond ringlets giggled as small girls with blond ringlets often do.

Annie Malinky

As Dawn Rose and Annie awoke simultaneously to the sound of the fire alarms beneath the tarpaulin they'd slung down as a quilt the night before, they each took a moment to cherish a glance at the naked bodies of the other two. They would all agree that each one of them was better looking than the other two, but would lose no sleep over the memories of the shameless debauchery they'd been a part of over the last few months together. Their flight from Hampton Court menagerie had not only liberated their bodies, but their minds and even their child-like libidos. Life on the road as animals was just what the vet had ordered as far as the girls were concerned.
Annie was the first dressed because she had no clothes, so she scurried down the cold steel corridor to the kitchen and proceeded to hack at the congealed octopus lying on the central workbench. They'd left the plates and utensils out after eating last night because an impromptu group kissing session had begun over the main course -raw halibut steak with un-peppered cod cheeks- so Annie simply heaped up a gelatinous lump of cold tentacle onto the remains of her last meal and wandered over to the seating area. As she plopped down onto the metal sofa, Dawn marched in whistling an old shanty.

"You're cheerful today!" said Annie brightly, before slurping an indistinct grey lump into her mouth.

"Oh fuck off you old slut!" chuckled Dawn. She went straight to the porthole and stared out at the grey waves. Yup. Another pointless day of group masturbation on this rusting old stolen boat. Not long though, she reminded herself. Her impatience was turning the obligatory sexual sessions with Annie and Rose a little sour and pointed, to say the least. She had spent more breath on apologies than passion during the last few sessions. The other two were beginning to get a little anxious underneath the wild sexual romping, she could tell. At least, she thought she was sure...

Finally Rose wandered in, totally oblivious to her environment. It was a wonder that she managed to even get into the room without some sort of mild bruising considering her starry-eyed ignorance. She was humming an indecipherable tune as she stopped in front of the central work surface with the congealing octopus resting on it.

"Umm, no." She said, apparently to a thought she was having. She looked down at her feet and smiled. "Ha ha! I was just thinking..." she trailed off and stood there staring at her feet, absently pushing a dangling lump of hair back over her ear. Dawn and Annie ignored her, as usual.
Dawn had stomped over to where Annie was sitting on the metal sofa and joined her, sitting disrespectfully close with her elbow resting on Annie's hip. She pulled a cigarette out from behind her ear- half smoked- and coughed into Annie's breakfast as she pulled in her first lungful of stale smoke.

"Switch the fucking alarm off Rose." Said Dawn, the fag having resurrected her standard gruff persona to it's fullest embodiment. Indeed, they had all become so accustomed to the fire alarm's regular shout for attention that it almost seemed pointless to switch it off. However, switch it off they did most of the time. Even Rose knew where the button was. She responded a few seconds later and did as she was told, mumbling something about a bikini as she climbed onto the swivel-chair and reached for the little red button...