CycleChat The Novel.

[User32269]

the old pianee player abruptly ceased to tickle the ivories. The bar fell silent, save the flip flopping sound of the saloon doors, framed in the doorway was

 

[roadrash]

noodley, the nobber..

 

[Randomnerd]

[...somehow...I don't know how....and I'm not pointing the finger....ahem....things seem to have taken.....erm....a few strange twists. Not sure full editorial control is being maintained....will somebody give Ed. a can of The Orange Stuff and the deep fried confection of their choice? Should get things back on line...]

 

[Randomnerd]

"Doctor Froome, I presume?"

 

[Randomnerd]

Roger the barman stopped pulling Goggy's seventy shilling. Bob the dog stopped lickin' his baws. Wee Eddie coughed mid voddy slurp and let the liquid dribble down his sinnet, undrunk. Even the extractor fan out back stopped a-squeakin'. "Froome?"

 

[Randomnerd]

Aye Froome. Not Noddly. Noddly's outside in the van

 

[Bazzer]

Dr Froome thrust his blue inhaler towards his mouth and took two large lung fulls of the medicine, before announcing to the bar "Yes."
He glanced around and saw Lord Drago and Rebus.....

 

[Randomnerd]

"Yah mean Big Noodley?"
"Exactly"
"What's an athlete like youse doin' in an Edinburgh drinkin' dive like ooors?"
"Good question, and one I'm willing to answer once I've had a drink"

 

[Randomnerd]

"And a toke on this." [cough]

 

[Randomnerd]

"That's better"
"You got the asthma, aye?"
"So I'm told. That Royal Mile is one hell of a climb though, don't you think? Biltong anyone?"

 

[Randomnerd]

"Noodley. Bring in the hampers will you? Biltong for everyone, especially those vegans in the corner"

 

[roadrash]

Just as noodle was carrying in the hampers of biltong, he tripped over his......broken flip flop

 

[colly]

The air was still, unmoving, with a hint of something noxious and malodorous nearby. A faint noise, almost nothing but........
looking round suddenly his hackles rising. Who is it? What is it? The thin edge of panic began deep within, with trepidation rising he turned, almost against his own terrified will to face whoever or whatever it was. The smell was getting stonger, becoming ever more insistent. The foulness and corruption eating into his nostrils.
His eyes widened .........Oh no.....no! It can not be. No, dear God no please don't let it be him, not again. Unbidden his hand flew to his face as if to protect himself from the oncoming horror. The stench grew and became that scent he will forever fear. His deepest fears all crowding in on him..........It can not be he told himself. As his mind settled on the identification of the rank odour he knew it was true......................boiled cabbage !

ROCKY MOUNTAIN was alive again.

'Oooo hello' came the reedy voice from the shadows, 'I couldn't 'arf do with a cuppa an' a chocci biscuit'

 

[Randomnerd]

The Big D pushed his crumpled frame almost upright, the torn sinews in his side ripping beneath the whalebone corset, holding him manfully in under the merino onesie.
The Big D danced his kitty cat shimmy to the snug bar where the Doc draughted the last of his amytriptilene soda and shook his little white crystal baggie crumbs into the remaining shards of biltong thins.
"You here for trouble Doc?"
"Here for the same thing you are, stranger'
"The race? Tell me you're not here for...the race?
Doc Froome tried to focus on the jutting jaw before him, but the saltiness of the dried meat and the effect of the drug-free soda were clouding his responses. Instinctively, Doc drove a big bony elbow right into Drago's soppurating side, sending him to the sawdust-strewn floor...

 

[Randomnerd]

[...nicely back on track there...get Ed. another DF Mars and put it on my tab...]