CycleChat The Novel.

[Reynard]

The feral tortie kitten, who had escaped both the Prince and the Fair Maid was now sitting obstinately in the middle of the road.

 

[Reynard]

And Q, intrigued by this idea of a pie-in-a-tin was busy stacking them up in pretty piles according to flavour.

 

[classic33]

With the odd Half-Time pie throwing out his careful, well thought out pattern.

 

[Oxo]

Up close the assembled throng were a bewildering spectacle. First Cyclist reversed the binoculars, so putting himself at a safe distance. Slowly the different fractions were coming together, those ambitious for power, influence, and above all else, money were beginning to make their moves.
Only the First Cyclist witnessed a broad figure detach itself from the throng, slip off the harbour wall into the water. Vernon was after the biggest prize of all, the pie containing the 'Golden Ticket".

 

[User32269]

The massively talented and handsome northern writer stepped from his surprisingly spacious, yet sporty, BMW X6. Remarkably refreshed after the long journey to Devon, his Dolce and Gabbana suit unwrinkled. His Bulgari Magsonic Sonnerie Tourbillon watch showed eleven fifty. Nearly high noon. An amazon van pulled up. Moments after scribbling on the screen of the hand held device, he mounted his newly delivered Scott Foil Premium Disk bicycle and headed towards the harbour. The Di2 was a revelation to him, smoother than butter marinated in wet lube.
He had received a what's app message from an old, dear friend last night. Not only was he a brilliant author, with the highest standards of artistic integrity; he was, above all a true friend. Somebody needed his help - he was on his way riding the supprisingly versatile Scott machine.

 

[roadrash]

suddenly he was woken by his alarm clock realising that all he had to ride was his Halfords B.S.O, that had the forks fitted backwards,

 

[postman]

At last thought Postman,i have arrived.Late as usual,my own fault i only put a second class stamp on my forehead.Good job nobody tried to unravel the gorilla tape.Now where is that Shaun,i need to exchange this Cycle Chat jersey,Cycling fiendly my elbow,but what on earth is going on down at the harbour bar cafe,Miss Goodbody is sharing out knickerboker glories what a crowd.

 

[Bazzer]

Then from in the distance a Banshee wail was heard. The crowd turned its collective heads and then parted.
Hurtling towards them was Blazed, travelling faster than he had spoken about on some obscure cycling forum. The look of terror on his face could clearly be seen as Dr Froome, elbows scything all before him and fuelled by Lance's spirit, was rapidly closing the gap on Blazed; the pair of riders hurtling towards the crowd.

 

[Oxo]

A gurgling sound from behind the harbour wall hushed the crowd as they all turned to look. A hand clutching a pie appeared, slowly followed by a dripping body covered in seaweed and with a crab tangled in a long straggling beard.
Vernon had the pie with the 'Golden Ticket'.
The crowd closed in.
Who would make the first move?
Would Rebus invoke the strong arm of the law?
Would Drago pull rank as a lord of the Realm?
Would Accy claim pie benefits?
Would Dr Froome claim the pie, the day being Tuesday?
Would....

 

[User32269]

"Tuesday?" exclaimed Penelope.
"Erm, could you all just wait a minute while I leg it home to get changed?"

 

[User32269]

Dapper Dirk rounded the corner, looking in amazement at the pandemonium around the harbour.
"I'm back, as you were," he shouted.

 

[classic33]

unaware of the impending doom approaching from out of no-where, in the middle of the night.

 

[Bazzer]

The road leading to the harbour was straight but for a chicane where the harbour master's hut stood. Blazed was now living up to his name as his speed reached 80kph, fear driving his legs. Dr Froome, by now draughting, was almost on his wheel; his Banshee wail now piercing the ears of the assembled multitude. Dirk finally saw the speeding bodies..

 

[User32269]

Instinctively, Dirk reached into his man bag, he pulled out the razor sharp lid of the Fray Bentos he had scoffed on the way to the harbour.
"Banzai" he screamed, as the lid left his well manicured fingers; a lethal frisbee.
It sliced through Fromes neck with surprising ease. He continued cycling for some time, while his head rolled down the cobbled harbour path.

 

[User32269]

"That's gonna sting," proclaimed Lord Drago.
He then proceeded to take his HK416 assault rifle from the Thomas the Tank Engine duffle bag he took everywhere with him.