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Reynard
Guru
- Location
- Cambridgeshire, UK
It wasn't an easy thing for him to do. The last time he tried to eat something, he'd ordered ten chocolate sundaes and gotten himself stabbed in the hand with a fork.
Fortunately though, Guinan wasn't in evidence this time. But the condiments puzzled him. Salt? Pepper? Ketchup? Brown Sauce?
Tentatively, he unscrewed the top of each and tasted them.
Fortunately though, Guinan wasn't in evidence this time. But the condiments puzzled him. Salt? Pepper? Ketchup? Brown Sauce?
Tentatively, he unscrewed the top of each and tasted them.
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User32269
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Into the cafe breezed Flinette McSteel and, this being a Wednesday, Penelope. Holding hands, looking resplendent in matching spandex cat suits, they sat and pondered the menu.
They had an afternoon jaunt planned, a walk up to the beach houses. They had thought it remarkable how similar these looked to one's they had seen in Kent last summer. These ones, in Devon, had quickly become their 'special place' and after a bite to eat they would be on their way. A perfect Wednesday afternoon in Devon, despite it having an uncanny similarity to Kent.
Penelope wiped the eggy bread from her waxed moustache, winked at Flinette across the vinyl tablecloth, and they made their exit, into the bright Devon sunshine.
They had an afternoon jaunt planned, a walk up to the beach houses. They had thought it remarkable how similar these looked to one's they had seen in Kent last summer. These ones, in Devon, had quickly become their 'special place' and after a bite to eat they would be on their way. A perfect Wednesday afternoon in Devon, despite it having an uncanny similarity to Kent.
Penelope wiped the eggy bread from her waxed moustache, winked at Flinette across the vinyl tablecloth, and they made their exit, into the bright Devon sunshine.
Reynard
Guru
- Location
- Cambridgeshire, UK
... who watched as Q poured a whole bottle of vinegar over his fry-up. Her big hat, that looked like a fabric-covered tea tray perched precariously on top of her head, swayed in the breeze.
"You just don't have a clue, Q," Guinan muttered to herself.
In the background, a trolley full of FB pies trundled down the hill towards the harbour with no one else in sight.
"You just don't have a clue, Q," Guinan muttered to herself.
In the background, a trolley full of FB pies trundled down the hill towards the harbour with no one else in sight.
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"Yes my love, there ARE a great many spelling variations of my name, how perfectly perceptive of you my little tinned pie," said Penelope, as her and McSteel rounded the corner.
"LOOK OUT DIRK!" screamed Flinette. She rugby tackled Penelope just as the trolley, full of tinned deliciousness hurtled past. Missing the sprawling pair by inches.
"Are you hurt Penelope?" asked McSteel.
"Only by your insensitivity" came the curt reply.
"LOOK OUT DIRK!" screamed Flinette. She rugby tackled Penelope just as the trolley, full of tinned deliciousness hurtled past. Missing the sprawling pair by inches.
"Are you hurt Penelope?" asked McSteel.
"Only by your insensitivity" came the curt reply.
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User32269
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The pair had journeyed to the beach hut in a simmering silence. The sort of silence that said far more than words could. Upon their arrival they were met with a sight that stunned them. Around the huts, usually an oasis of solitude and empty calm, a small throng of people appeared.
What looked very much like a couple of straggling nerds who had got lost on their way to a Star Trek convention. Rebus and Lord Drago, drinking hand sanitiser stolen from the sick children's hospital. Accy the butler attempting to put his dirty clothes into a strangers washing machine in the middle beach hut. Rocky Mountain, who they both knew from the drug fuelled swinging scene of the late 1920's, was studying an OS map attempting to locate the Trans Pennine Trail.
More people began to appear. Lance O'classic amongst them.
What looked very much like a couple of straggling nerds who had got lost on their way to a Star Trek convention. Rebus and Lord Drago, drinking hand sanitiser stolen from the sick children's hospital. Accy the butler attempting to put his dirty clothes into a strangers washing machine in the middle beach hut. Rocky Mountain, who they both knew from the drug fuelled swinging scene of the late 1920's, was studying an OS map attempting to locate the Trans Pennine Trail.
More people began to appear. Lance O'classic amongst them.
Reynard
Guru
- Location
- Cambridgeshire, UK
The trolley carried on caroming towards the quay.
"Impedimenta!" someone yelled, obviously out of breath.
While the trolley juddered to a stop, the contents didn't, and tins of pies skittered across the cobbles. Huffing and puffing on her tiny bike, Reynard rolled into view, bouncing up and down on the section of pave.
"Oh bother," she said. "That wasn't on the agenda."
"Impedimenta!" someone yelled, obviously out of breath.
While the trolley juddered to a stop, the contents didn't, and tins of pies skittered across the cobbles. Huffing and puffing on her tiny bike, Reynard rolled into view, bouncing up and down on the section of pave.
"Oh bother," she said. "That wasn't on the agenda."
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User32269
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Around the beach huts, the crowd continued to swell. Matiz was punching one of the occupants.
"Think yer better than me yer nobber" he growled in perfect rhythm with his raining blows.
"Just coz your gaffs not on bricks where some scouser robbed the wheels," he ranted, face contorted into the expression Mrs Mop uses when furtively reading her Daily Star.
Postman and Fnarr, who were now a couple, picked wild flowers in the distance. Miss Goodbody sulked behind a hut, spying on them, incandescent with jealous rage.
Blazed was approaching fast, riding up the vertical cliff face at the lands edge. Smashing KOM's with abandon. Still they came. It had the feeling of a pot beginning to boil, breaching the edges, and cascading into bubbling chaos.
"Think yer better than me yer nobber" he growled in perfect rhythm with his raining blows.
"Just coz your gaffs not on bricks where some scouser robbed the wheels," he ranted, face contorted into the expression Mrs Mop uses when furtively reading her Daily Star.
Postman and Fnarr, who were now a couple, picked wild flowers in the distance. Miss Goodbody sulked behind a hut, spying on them, incandescent with jealous rage.
Blazed was approaching fast, riding up the vertical cliff face at the lands edge. Smashing KOM's with abandon. Still they came. It had the feeling of a pot beginning to boil, breaching the edges, and cascading into bubbling chaos.
CHAPTER EIGHT
The final chapter
The final chapter
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Reynard
Guru
- Location
- Cambridgeshire, UK
At the top of the harbour lighthouse, First Cyclist looked down on the scene through a pair of binoculars.
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User32269
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Blazed would be there soon, not that much higher to go really.
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