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a story from the insane minds of Ell & En
Part 1
Once upon a time, in a county not really very far away, there was a cow. One day she was chewing on grass when she heard a little voice call, "Please don't eat me". The cow (whose name was Tulip) looked down and saw a fairy. "If you don't eat me, I'll make you magic, and you could have whatever you want - I can do this, you're not a human and I know you won't abuse the gift as a human would." Tulip (who could understand English, Sheep, Bird, Pig and Mouse, as well as Cow) said "moo - ok". And the fairy waved her wand and Tulip the cow became Tulip the Magic Cow. "Well, I'm sick of this field" thought Tulip. "I'm bound to get CJD or foot and mouth (she was a most literate ungulate) with all the crap Farmer Giles feeds me. I think I'll test the fairy's gift and go and see the world". So Tulip carefully considered what she would do with this very precious gift first. "Right" she thought. "I shall make sure that berries always grow on trees so that the birds shall never be hungry. She then chanted a spell to make this happen.
Magic gift
The spell did not produce the exact result expected but Tulip seemed to be pleased that she had created a blackberry the size of Ben Nevis (and believe me, Mr Nevis was very tall). "OOOHHH" chirruped Mrs Blackbird "thank you so much Tulip, but I think you need to work on the gift to perfect your skills, that last one went a bit awry." "How did you get to hear about it?" enquired the bemused cow. "I was listening" said Mrs B. "Never mind - the family and I will enjoy this lot". With that she called her family and all their friends and their friend's friends, indeed most of the birds in the county. They feasted until the blackberry was finished. Tulip was pleased, and the birds flew by singing their thanks. Tulip was then at a loss as to what to do. Night was falling, and she did not want to spent it in her crummy byre, with Daisy who fancied the bull in the next field and droned on and on and on about him, or with Bessie who never talked of anything but her daughter who won a prize in the county fair five years ago. She decided to chance making another spell:
Magic gift
So Tulip The Magic Cow was whisked away to the sunny south of Spain and landed gently and gracefully in a beautiful beach with a nice green field nearby. She was very happy to me in her beautiful home but was a little worried at how the passengers of a Boeing 747 reacted when she passed by their window. She had noted one small girl calling to her mummy - and how the mother had screamed. "Oh well" she thought "it will give her something to talk about". And after muttering a quick spell to understand the local languages -
Magic Gift
- she decided to explore her new surroundings. She strolled into the town, which was just waking up, and saw the market men setting up their stalls. One of them hit her on the rump and said "Móvete vaca!" in a rude tone of voice and then yelled to his fellows asking who had this ###### cow. Well! Tulip was not used to such rudeness and decided to teach this nasty Spaniard a lesson.
Magic Gift
And with that she turned her head around and asked politely (for she had been well brought up and saw no reason to descend to the level of this rude human) "Excuse me - but I'm not with anybody - and do you mind not hitting me there?" "Who said that" asked Pedro (for that was his name). "Jesus - is that you making stupid voices again?" But his friends were all out of earshot. "No it was me" said Tulip who turned around to face Pedro. "Are you Spaniards so chauvinistic that you refuse to believe that a lady can speak?" "Whaaa whaaa?" said the disbelieving Pedro. "Dios Mío"!!!! He turned frantically "Jesus - you've not learned to throw your voice have you?" "I believe that the narrator pointed out, sir, that your friends are all out of earshot. It is I, Tulip The Magic Cow, a native of England, the land of gentlemen, who spoke to you - no one else, and I wish to tell you that you have been quite excessively rude to me, you sir are no credit to your country," said Tulip firmly. Really these humans were denser than she ever thought possible. And with that she turned - wondering if an intelligent animal would ever have a say anywhere in the European union. Pedro stood there gawping. He sat down and pulled out his rosary vowing to our Lady of Burnley-on-the-Stait (where the English colony had been seeing her in their crisp packets lately) to be kinder to animals. Tulip meanwhile continued her stroll into the town centre, pausing now and then to sample the local flora. She was curious to see the market, the only one she ever went to was the one where she had been parted from her mother (at this she sighed, where was Mummy now?) and she wanted to see what the humans got up to at these affairs, especially as she had heard Mrs Farmer Giles talk with enthusiasm about Continental Markets. She strolled in elegantly, she was confident that she was the best looking cow in the market. The humans there were gobsmacked though they were polite. However it is worth mentioning that more than a few vowed to become teetotal. Tulip was intrigued with chatting to the humans. However the only humans who were not stunned at her speech were the children and she found their conversation either a little limited - or parents kept whisking them away while they cried "pero Mama, la vaca habla, quiero hablar con ella." Tulip despaired at there ever being intelligent Human/Bovine converse. She decided to relax by talking to her fellow cows. Noting that they had truly appalling quarters and tutting to herself she went to converse with them. They were astonished to see that one of their number was walking round freely. "Hello, lovely day isn't?" she said in Cow to break the silence. But the cows did not understand the English Bovine dialect in which she spoke. There was an awkward pause. "Erm - hola" said one. There was another pause. And then - !!!! "Toolip - is thet yew gal?" cried an elderly cow from the back. "Oi'd know yar voice anyweer, thought Oi an't seen yew since yew was a li'l calf". "Who is it?" cried Tulip. "Mummy?" It was indeed her mother. The other cows parted for her to come through to her daughter. "Oh Toolip! Oh Toolip" she said. Oi'm so glad ter see yew agin. Oh yew wouldna belive how Oi croid whin tha' took yew from me!" "Oh Mummy" said Tulip. And that said it all.
Part 2
[Zed, who typed it, apologises for any mistakes. Ell's handwriting is difficult enough to comprehend at the best of times, but the Suffolkese and French proved especially taxing. Also, Zed is pants at typing.] Tulip became aware of the crowds behind her and realised they would have to go, otherwise she would be caught and separated from Mummy again. "Come on Mummy, we'll have to go. I can hear police sirens." "But, my li'l darl'n - there's tew many people a-crowdn' our way - we can't git through." It was true - a large crowd of people encircled them, eager to see the talking cow and Tulip knew that they were not going to let them go. There was only one possible route past them - and that was blocked by a cheese stall. There was no other way and the crowd were closing in and the sirens were getting closer. She chewed the string off the pen and charged at the cheese stall - it was a flimsy thing and got destroyed, the cheeses flying onto the road, causing the oncoming traffic to spin out of control, into the other stalls whose wares were flying about causing even more chaos. The police cars crashed into the walls of the nearby loony bin, causing the loonies to escape. Tulip was satisfied at the diversion and she and her mother strolled nonchalantly out of the town and back to the fields. Tulip learned on her mother's safe life since she had been sold and exported. "Oh Toolip, they put me in a big ol' truck what didn't hev no light or air - an' oi was in that for days! Oi thought England was bad, but thas's a lot wass here. Oi b'live one poor gal doid 'cos there warn't no food nor water. Cor - the stink! Oi 'on't never forget that. They took us tew a market loike that one an' oi got sold agin - theer warn't no truck that toime but we had to walk. That's foine oi thought - but th? Was so hot, oi warn't accustomed to th'heat comin' from England. But that farmer, 'a wouldn't let me rest but he kep' hitt'n me with a nasty leather thing. Well t'farm warn't tew bad, as farms goo. Oi, well . . ." She broke off, giggling. "Ooh - did you meet a nice bull there, Mummy?" her daughter enquired, interested. "Yis my darl'n Toolip oi Did. Oh he was so sweet to me, he tol' me he'd marry me an' every thing'd be a'roight forever. An' he meant that - he never went after no other cows. But" She stopped talking and bowed her head. Tulip saw there were tears in her eyes. But they took 'im away one day - they said that was for a Bull foight - an dew yew know what that is? They get a bull and make him cum 'till he's so exhausted that 'a can't move - an' then they stick big ol' sticks int'him an kill im - an' they call the hoomans what dew that brave, but tha's so cowardly cause the bull ain't got no chance and . . . and . . ." She stopped. She really was crying now. Overcome by her loss and the lack of justice for cows. "Let's rest Mummy, we're a long way from the town now. Could you see about my hoof - there's something stuck in it and I couldn't stop before." There was indeed something trapped in her hood and it took some time to get it out. At last it was free. "Thank you. I feared I would asphyxiate had my time there been prolonged much further," said an educated voice. "What was that?" said Tulip, looking around. "Your auditory senses detected my speech Madam," said the voice. Mummy looked down. "Toolip, tha's a door wedge - an' tha's what spoke!" "Madam, you are most assuredly correct. May I be permitted to introduce myself - my name is Martin. Martin the marvellous door-wedge." Mummy was gobsmacked, but tulip had had so many amazing things happen that she was most unabashed. "How do you Martin? I am Tulip the Magic Cow and this is my Mummy." "Enchanted," said Martin. "Would you be offended if I enquired what two English ladies are doing in this accursed foreign land, whose natives have no respect for a decent and hard working door wedge?" Tulip agreed with the latter statement and told Martin their stories and then begged Martin to tell his. "Ah! My history is long, but I believe it is not devoid of interest to the casual listener. Much of my early life was spent in a room. Ah, it grieves me to reflect back upon hose years - when I could neither speak nor hear nor reflect nor feel. I was an inanimate object, no better or worse than any other door wedge . . ." "Git on with it! You're a-talkin' a lot o' squit! How come yew can talk?" said Mummy, annoyed by Martin's verbosity. Martin looked annoyed [don't ask me how a door wedge can look annoyed, but Martin did - author's note.] "Pray, do not interrupt my narrative, Madam. You will ruin my flow, an artist such as myself . . ." "Cut the crap! Stop talkin' 'bout yourself an' get on with it!" cried Mummy. "Oh, very well," said Martin, still annoyed. "One year, a young lady student who was resident in my quarters conceived a mad passion for me! My good looks, my stunning edges made this young maid quite faint with desire." [What Martin did now know was that the 'young maid' was later admitted into hospital suffering from severe, very severe, personality disorders. However, if he did it would wound his vanity too much - author's note.] "I presume she went home one weekend, became inebriated, but she ended up telling the barmaid of her local public house of her passion for me. What a happy chance! This barmaid happened to be the august goddess of all doorwedges, my patroness. At last! Thought the goddess. Someone appreciates the wonder of door wedges. I shall make her happy and bring martin to life! And so I became a sentient being. Our love blossomed. But, I hasten to add, I would never have violated such a good and pure young virgin. Our union was entirely chaste." "Oi don' see how that coul'a bin anything else," said Mummy frankly. "Oi think she sounds a bit funny in th' head." [She was!] "Really Madam! You are a cynic of the very highest order! How can you know of the good and pure emotion of a young girl's heart? But I digress, our love blossomed and we spent many hours discussing poetry, music, the great wide world, history, the immortal genius of Hitler! She favoured me with her confidences, how she hoped to get a first in her degree, how she liked sweets, how the demons who lived in her head wanted to set fire to her house at the full moon and how she longed to please the dark forces! Alas! These ambitions were never realised - they took her away, no doubt jealous of her brilliance and the depth of our love! What could I do! She had had her trust violated and I determined to find my angel. I heard tell of some elves who were coming to Spain, having won a holiday in 'Elf & Strength' (with apologies to Frank Muir) magazine and they deigned to let me accompany them. Alas! Here I have had no luck in finding my true love. I am on a quest to find her, like you ladies who desire to find a home where cows may live unmolested by humans. It strikes me that we should join up in our travels. I am sure that wherever my fairy girl is will be a paradise for cows." Tulip and Mummy ummed and erred - did they really want a manic door wedge? But Martin took their silence for consent. However, he made a useful suggestion. "I have heard my love tell of a land called India. There the cow is regarded as sacred - none may harm the cow or the consequences are dire. Indeed - my angel girl desired to go to India to make a pilgramage to the Goddess Kali who would aid her in her quest of darkness! Let us therefore go to India." The suggestion was a good one. Tulip murmed a spell: Magic gift
For they had to go on foot. As Mummy pointed out, "If we fly, we moight miss that 'cause yew don't know where that is." Placing Martin carefully on Mummy's back, Tulip then said, "Let's go!" and they set off at speed. By the end of the following day they had crossed the Pyrenees and were in France. They were however in grave danger - news from Spain of a talking cow had spread all over Europe and the whole countryside was out looking for our heroes. The owner of le cirque du Monsieur Georges Dupoint, France's greatest circus, had offered a reward of F 200,000 for anyone who could bring them in. He thought that a talking cow would make a perfect interval act. One night our heroes had settled to sleep in a sheltered glade in the woods, when suddenly they were surrounded by men armed with tranquiliser guns and large dogs. A car drew up and out of it stepped Georges Dupoint, the circus owner. "Eef you please," he said in his broken English, "May ah speak wiz ze talking cow, Mees Tuleep?" "What is it - what do you want with us?" "Madam la boeuf, you are coming wiz me to mah ceercus. As eet 'as been ze greatest ceercus in France ever seence mah farzair Georges Dupoint Sr founded eet, eet must remain so. You will comply and come. Ozerwas . . ." and here he pulled out a shot gun, "your maman weel die - ah meen eet, what eez ze laf of a cow to me - nozing at all, only entermainment value. You, ah am conveenced, 'ave eet. Now," he aimed the gun at Mummy, "weel you come - and go out eento ze reeng tomorrow night?" Tulip saw that she had no option. There were so many people, even if she did refuse then she still could not escape, and Mummy would be dead. "Very well Mister Doopwunt - I agree - just don't hurt Mummy - or Martin," she added. "Oo ees Marrteen - zees?" said M. Dupoint, grabbing Martin. "This is an outrage!" cried Martin, but as Mr Dupoint has his hand over him, he was not heard. "'ow useful - ah need a new wedge for mah door," he said, pocking the irate Martin who had by this time fainted with rage at the indignity of it all. Tulip and Mummy went quietly into the truck and were driven to the circus. They were put into a cage next to a lugubrious looking gorilla. Mummy began to cry again. "Oh Toolip - oi had such hopes that was all agoing to be noice now - an' now we're trapped again!" "It is fate. We are but pawns in the hands of man. Our time may come, when God avenges the beasts, but we may never live to see it. All we can do is bear it. Take courage! Do not let them see your tears," said the gorilla. "God knows, I have suffered. I am from Africa! Ah my beautiful home, with the forests that spread as far as the eye could see. It is a good land - warm and bountiful, not like the coldness of air and earth in this land, there I lived with my wives and my children. But one day, I was kidnapped! Taken from them, taken to this abominable land of cold and snow. I was sold to this circus - now I spend my days in this cage - except for when the clown makes me drive a car around the ring for a short while every night. They called me Gavin, because they thought it was funny. Such is my life," he ended bitterly. The cows sympathized and offered up their stories and he in turn sympathised with their plight. However, he commented, "You have suffered - I have suffered. I believe even humans suffer - I have seen them bleeding and wounded. It is our lot to stand stings. We cannot fight what is." "But," said Tulip. "If you could escape, would you?" "Of course my friend, every night I dream of my Africa, my family, but they are far now. So far, so far . . ." and he tailed off. The cows resumed discussion. "Toolip, are you a-goin' t'talk in t'ring, as Mr Doopwunt want yew tew?" "I was thinking Mummy . . . all he said was to 'go into the ring'. There was nothing said about actually talking." She then went silent. The day passed and she slept. Finally she was prodded out of her cage by a trainer and led to the ring. "Mesdames et Monsieurs. Aujourd'jui, nous presentous à vous, la seuil boeuf sous la ciel qui peut parler. Je vous present TULIP." She went on and heard the applause. "Mesdames et Mousieurs. Tulip perlera maintenant pour vous!" The applause was even more wild. The ring master turned to her. "Tulip. Parlez aux hommes et dames." Tulip said nothing. There was silence. The ring master went to the back of the tent. "Je pense qu'elle ne parle pas français - es que c'est possible d'avoir un persone qui parle anglais?" he then went to address the crowd. "Je vous prie mesdames et monsieurs, avoide de patience - elle ne me comprends pas - elle est anglais." Eventually, M. Dupoint was found - only he knew English. "Now Tuleep," he said, in an oily manner, his charm belying the threats of the previous night. "Tuleep, say someseeng nace for ze ladies and ze gentlemen." The crowd was silent. The ring master, all behind stage, M. Doupt - all were silent. So was Tulip. "Erm, Tuleep - please say somesing," repeated M. Dupoint. Tulip kneeled down and mooed. The crowd grew restive, M. Dupoint grew desperate, he cajoled her, wheedled, pleaded, all to no avail. The crowd grew angry, began jeering and demanding their money back, booing and throwing things at M. Dupoint. However, there was silence again. There was an unmistakable smell of smoke - flames shot up from the wooden seats. FEU! FIRE! There was panic as the crowd screamed and surged towards the exists. Only one girl stood in amongst the flames, laughing hysterically, calling, in English. "FREE THE COW! BURN IT ALL! COME HOLY DEMONS! FREE THE FUCKING COW!" Tulip did not listen. She ran back to the animals. In the uproar their cages had all been left open. Mummy and Gavin were in a truck, Gavin in the driver's seat. "Toolip, Gavin drove for the clowns an' 'e can droive this car! Come on, less git out o' here!" "Martin!" cried Tulip. "He's still in the office! Oh, someone must get him." "Martin - where is he?" cried someone. Tulip looked - it was the girl who started the fire. "Where's Martin - my beloved! The door wedge of my life!" "Er - under Mr Doopwunt's door, over there." "My angel! The one of my life!" cried Martin. "Oh what have they done to you, my sweetum piesy wiesy?" "Martin! She yelled, pulling him from under the door. "Oh, my darling, they sent me to a vile place - they tried to tell me the demons weren't telling me things, that Satan doesn't want me to light fires, and that you aren't anything but a door wedge, my darling! They tried to break me and convince me that I'm something I'm not. They thought I was better so they let me go on holiday and to the circus - but - I'm not beaten! I know my role in life, but stay with me, my wonderful one." "Of course, my sweet maid, the only one for me. I shall ever be with you." The police came then, so did an ambulance. Gavin drove off. Tulip just caught the girl saying, "Don't take away Martin - I love him" and an official look startled when Martin declared his love. M. Dupoint knelt and wept at the fire and the ruin of the greatest show in France. Gavin drove swiftly. They covered much ground - only pausing occasionally to steal petrol. They encountered no problems and drove east. Italy, Slovenia, Hungary, Rumania, Bulgaria, Turkey, all in less than a week. In Turkey a noteworthy occurrence occurred. They had stopped at a stream one night. Gavin had got enough petrol for the next day and the three animals were resting a while under the starry sky, far from any human habitation. They heard a noise and a medium sized bird wearing a fez came up to them and muttered something incomprehensible. Tulip made her comprehension spell again and asked the bird to repeat itself. "I said, good evening my friends. I am a wanderer. May I join you a while?" The animals assented. "Such a night. When all is calm and beauty in the world. Yet nothing lasts. Do you wish to know the future - where do you go?" "India." The Turkey [I know they are not native, but Bernard Matthews had opened a farm in Turkey as it was more cost effective - author's note] pecked a little. "No - not you, my friend," he said, looking at Gavin. "Beneath the dark hill
"How strange," said Tulip, "do you understand?" "My dear Tulip, only too well," he sighed. "It is my family. Long have I wondered if they still live. I fear they do not. Yet - if this beast is right, I may have another chance for a family. Is that so?" "Know knows - details, details. All I speak of is a pattern. The details fit the pattern, but they are not the pattern itself. All I can say is what will be. How it will be - who can say? Now you," he addressed Tulip and began to peck again: "Beware the wide river
"What does that mean?" But the Turkey had gone. Strange, she thought, strange. They finally reached Egypt. Gavin stood facing west. "There, my friends, there is my Africa. There I must go, I do believe we part forever. I believe you will reach India" and he embraced them and drove the car west. Tulip and Mummy stood watching him drive towards the setting sun until they could no longer see - and they turned East - to India and freedom.
Part 3
They watched the sun set in the west as they settled down to rest one evening. “Toolip, who did you not get us out of Mr Doopwunt’s wi your magic?” asked Mummy. “I just didn’t think to, Mummy. I was so frightened. But I suppose it’s an ill wind - Martin wouldn’t have found his ‘angel girl’ and Gavin wouldn’t have escaped from the circus. I wonder if he’s found his home yet.” “Oi b’live he will dew, ‘specially after you made up that spell ter make ‘as car run ‘athout petrol. Just hope ‘as family aren’t dead. An’ Oi’m glad fer Martin tew - oi know he annoyed me but Oi don’t wish ‘um no harm. But Oi dunno - theer was suffin rum ‘bout that girl.” “What Mummy?” “Dunno what ‘xac’ly. S’jis’ - Oi carn’ say what. But she ain’ roight. S’not jist har brain - fallin’ fer a door wedge, suffin’ else too. Oi can’t put moi hoof-“ (she had no fingers, remember!) on ut.” “Well, we’ll never have to see her once we’re safe in India. Oh, I hope it’s as wonderful as they say!” For among the cows of south Asia, whose lives are hard, India is a dream. Our heroes had often to stop ad ask the local cows for directions. They were appalled at the sorry state of them, but they bore up, believing that they would one day go East to India - that magical land. As it was, our cows were near to their dream. Not far away lay the greet Indus river - the last obstacle they had to face before they reached their promised land. And indeed, the following day, they crossed this. In the heat of the midday sun, they struggled out of the water. They were sodden and panting with the exhaustion sustained in swimming the river. Then - “Mummy - look!” cried Tulip. Huge crowds of people playing festive sounding music, dancers and children carrying garlands of flowers, all single and looking excited were coming. “What dew ut mean?” “I’ve no idea. Gosh, I hope they are friendly. I’ve no idea what we shall do if they aren’t.” They stood, gazing at all the people who came ever closer. Finally, only a few yards away the people stopped and fell silent. Two individuals holding garlands of bright red flowers came forward and bowed. Then, putting them round the cows’ necks, they said, “Tulip, and mother, we extend our most cordial greetings. Welcome, welcome, welcome to India.” Tulip was amazed. Never before, in her life, had she received such courtesy. Then her mind cleared and she said, in impeccable Hindi, “Thank you, thank you everybody. We’re really touched at your welcome.” And the crowd roared and cheered. The band started up again. “But - how’d tha know we was a-comin’?” asked Mummy. Tulip translated this. “Ah, ever since we heard of a cow with human intelligence, everyone knew you would come here. Here Tulip, alone in all the world, the cow is respected,” said the official who greeted them. [He of course neglected to mention other Hindi nations who would have respected them. However . . . ] “Well.” Tulip decided to do something nice for them. “Magic gift
And from the sky chocolates, jellies, and other confectionary rained down for well over an hour to the delight of all the children and their parents. But before the children could run to the cows and give their tanks, the cows were led away by the officials. “Boundless is your kindness oh Tulip. But come now and partake of our hospitality.” The cows were happy to accept. But they would have done well not to. For the government of India, like all governments, was keen for the population to be drawn away from certain national problems such as health, corruption and poverty. They knew that if they could get Tulip on their side, and get her to perform a few magic tricks, the newspapers would focus on that, rather than mattes in the national interest. It was their plan to make Tulip go on a national tour. And they were also aware, the entire Hindu population would regard Tulip as divine. To secure Tulip would be to secure the eternal support of all the Hindus in India and thus remain forever in power. But Tulip and Mummy knew nothing of politics or spin (?) and they went with officials in all innocence. Anyway, readers, so as not to detain you, all that needs to be said is that Tulip willingly acquiesced to the plan to tour India and sow off her magic. After all, she was very pleased with the way the sweet trick went, she would be able to perform some similar spells. We must now leave our heroes and travel south to a small cave outside a village nearly Bangalore. This particular cave was very popular with those Gap year Planeteers (?) who come to India to travel, spend most of their time avoiding the local people [the Author recalls E. M. Forster’s comment about people who want to see India but never meet Indians] and wasting their money on dope and western style clubs and food, not going anywhere not in Lonely Planet . . . and seeking spiritual enlightenment. Real enlightenment takes many years of study and discipline, but these planeteers do not have the time, after all, they have to be back to start university in September and then afterwards they have to hurry to get the most cushy jobs the rat race has to offer. Fortunately there are plenty of lite gurus in India to cater for these busy westerners who want more instant decaffeinated enlightenment lite. Well, in the cave near the village near Bangalore was one such Guru. No one knew his real name but he had styled himself Kamadev (who, oh wise reader, you will know is the Hindu God of love). However, he was not a Guru. He was not even an Indian. He was an Austrian who had been christened Cyrano Von Kugelschreiber. However some years previously he had had to flee Austria for a heinous crime. It was nothing to do with the war - the Von Kugelschreiber family had been opponents of Hitler and Anschluss and during the war had sheltered a great many Jews and intellectuals and they were well known liberals. No, his crime was far worse. Cyrano Von Kugelschreiber’s maternal uncle - Ludwig Von NuBkracker had, through the study of certain arcane texts he had found preserved in the library of a mansion he had (baft?) near the remote village of Gänzlichbelanglos - learned how to distil brussel sprouts to produce a potent aphrodisiac. After the war he had begun to sell it in the newly reopened bars of Vienna. The excellence of the aphrodisiac - and the comeliness of the girls of the brothel next door - meant that demand was high. Ludwig Von NuBkracker had died (he was found with five girls in his bed - and a huge smile on his face) but he had left the secret to his favourite nephew. The business went from strength to world’s strongest man strength. To cope with demand, Cyrano Von Kugelschreiber had to begin smuggling in Brussel Sprouts from Russia. However, the success of the business could not be kept hidden. This was at the height of the cold war and so those in authority (who would have benefited from Viagra had it been invented) tried to arrest him. But he had been tipped off and escaped to India, none but a few friends knew of his whereabouts. He changed his name to Kamadev and gave the brussel sprouts mixture to attractive seekers after enlightenment, he claimed it was part of the exercise. “For,” he said, “Kamadev brought about the union of Parvati and Siva, the universal regulators of the universe, so does our union reflect that divine union and leads to our comprehension of the great mysteries” - and the girls were always prepared to swallow this thanks to the aphrodisiac. He had studied the rudiments of Hindu religion in Paris and knew how to make all his b******s sound convincing. But to return to the narrative. Georges Dupoint had been Cyrano Von Kugelschreiber’s greatest friend in Paris and was one of the few who knew where he was. Georges Dupoint had vowed revenge on Tulip and knew she was in India. Thus one morning Cyrano Von Kugelschreiber was awoken. “Georges!” he cried, “vot a vonderful surprise. Komm and haf some tea - ve haf lots to talk about.” “Mon ami, I too em delated to see you - but Ah ‘ave not come for ze pleasure chat - but on ze most amportant sing possible.” And he told his friend all about Tulip, how she had ruined his circus, how he had vowed revenge and followed her - and the lunatic who had burned down the big top - Yes! Martin and Angel girl were also in India! They had managed to give their minders the slip on the way back to England and as both wished to go to India, Martin to be with his new friends and Angel Girl to learn of Kali. And Georges Dupoint knew all of this. And he asked his friend, “Can you ‘elp me get mah revenge on Tuleep!? And on ze insane file ‘oo ruined mah caircoos?” “Mein freund, I knew der girl. She is obzessed vit Kali! Ah! I told her that Kali vas an incarnation of Shakti - ze female und that her husband Siva vas der male in all zings. Ah - she vas a gut lay! [Martin would have been most upset to know this!] but I know zat she has a demon in her. I studied enough of mein sanskrit in Paris to pe able to recognise zer signs!” Georges’ eyes lit up. “A demon you say? Well, zat weel be of use! Now, mon ami, we ‘ave to work queekly! I know zat Tuleep and ‘er mozair are on ze tour of india. Zay are coming to Bangalore demain! You will ‘elp me to work out a plan will you not?” “Of course, mein freund!” Let us leave these schemers and return to Tulip. At ever city, Delhi, Calcutta, Bombay (they were taking the long route!), thousands - possibly millions - had crowded round to see Tulip. Tulip had adored all the attention she was getting. But many of the people had not just come to see her - they honestly believed she had come from the Gods and there were crowds who surged towards her with their petitions. They begged Tulip to send rain (for there was a drought all over India), food, to deliver them from the corruption of the government, to improve the hospitals and the schools. But Tulip didn’t listen - even when, screaming desperately with tears of despair in their eyes they spoke in English. All Tulip did was lazily congratulate their language skills and make more sweets fall from the sky. “Toolip,” asked Mummy one night, “Whoi ever doon’ yew make the rain come or get the governmen’ ter give more money ter schools an’ thet? Yew could dew it easy ‘s breathin’.” “Well Mummy, it isn’t easy to make it rain and talking to Mr Jayashavtor and Mr Cheskpur, I realise that politics and economics really is beyond my control.” “Reckon tha’s all a lot o’ squit moiself. Oi hard ‘em talkin’ ‘bout corn proices an’ Oi don’ see why Indian corn gits liss than Russian corn. ‘S’all same stuff, ain’ it? An’ Oi saw Mr Jayaskavtor take some money from some big pl’ man fer a-dewin’ suffin what ‘a promised ‘a wouldn’ dew ter the town ‘cause that would stop people sellin’ stuff an’ tha’ wouldn’ earn no money an’ tha’d gew hungry. But, what was that? Yeah, they’re a-goin ter build a big ol’ build’n fer the rich men an’ knock down the market an’ all oil because that man gave Mr Jayasavtor lots o’ money. From what Oi c’n see, yew can’ get no one ter dew nothin’ in India ‘athout money.” “Oh I’m sure it’s all for the best Mummy. I really can’t do anything now, why don’t you try some of the lovely flowers they put in this hay? Mmm! And fresh stray every hour. No - life’s a lot better than in England. People treat me with the courtesy I deserve! Surely it can’t be bad here if they can afford to treat cows like this - normally people treat cows worse than people after all. If it’s so good for us, it must be a paradise for humans!” “Oi jist don’ belive it darlin’. Oi think they don’ pay no attention ter no one what h’ant got money. Doon’ you recall today - that woman carryin’ the l’il boy what had had ‘as ligs crushed so’s ‘a couldn’t walk? Yew could ‘a mended ‘em but yew didn’t. Whoi not? The governmen’ ain’ a goin’ ter take care of people like that.” Tulip had no answer. “An’ h’ain’t yew heard everyone sayin’ that you’re a God or sent from heaven or some such squit? Yew didn’t come from heaven and yew knew you ain’ divoine. Whoi don’ yew say suffin’ - tha’s just loike loi’in not sayn’ anythin’ and lettin’ ‘em belive whas not trew. Din’ Oi tell yew tha’s wrong ter loi? Oi know Oi don’ ceer fer humans, Oi ha’ suffered with em - buit still Oi don’ think tha’s right to let anything suffer when yew c’n stop ‘ut - even humans.” Tulip again did not answer. The fact was, sad to say but it must be said, that the magic gifts bestowed on her and the adulation she had received since coming to India had gone to her head. She had come to believe that she was somehow better than all she had seen. She did not wish to do anything for those dirty, nasty and noisy humans. The politicians were nice to her. They said nice things, treated her as a glorious thing which she believed she was. All humans, she had thought, should be as good to me. She could not believe they were less than exemplary, or that she was not behaving as she ought. “You’re just jealous ‘cause I’m special and better than you!” yelled Tulip. And she lay down with her back to her mother. Mummy tried to nuzzle up to her, but Tulip would just incline her head away. So Mummy settled down in her corner, tears dripping down her muzzle. She slept only fitfully. She had many nightmares. What would a newly petulant Tulip do? What would become of them both? She needed to keep her temper - with her magic powers she could do real harm. And why that outburst? Didn’t she love her anymore? The thought was truly awful. And the train made its way inexorably down to the next city on the tour - Bangalore. They arrived there early the next morning. People had come from all over southern India and the crowds were, as usual, pretty vast. There were of course the usual petitioners and Mummy noted to her dismay that Tulip didn’t listen, she merely complimented them on their English and said they should easily find jobs if they spoke it. Mummy sighed. She wished they had never come to India. It was nice to be pampered but it had ruined Tulip who used to be so kindly. She did not care for the heat and smells of the country, she was sure it was making Tulip more irritable. And she did not trust the politicians. Animals have instincts for this sort of thing and for all they were kindness itself to Mummy, still the incident of the bribe rankled. The desperation of the people who came to see Tulip bothered her but she could not think quite how. But Tulip would not listen to her and she could not speak the language of the humans or the local cows. She felt very alone. She sighed and turned her head towards the road. It was crowded with people, the police had closed it to vehicles - but she saw a truck. It looked exactly like the one which had brought them from France. Gavin! Was he in it? Mummy got off from her float and started towards the truck. The crowds moved to one side and let her by. They revered the cow who had borne Tulip! And she pressed forward. It was Gavin! And lots of other gorillas! “GAVIN!” she cried. The door of the van opened and Gavin crawled out. He embraced her. “Ah, Mummy, I am filled with joy. Glad, glad I am that we are met again!” They stood like this for a while before Gavin released his grip. “But, my dear friend, I am sad. What the Turkey said was true. I drove through Africa, I reached the Mountain Silverback, where I founded a family. But search as I did, I could not find them, only bones.” And he began to sob. “My family - dead!” And he wept. As he did so the two other adults in the cab came out and embraced him, both comforting him and telling him not to weep. “These ladies,” he said when he had calmed a little, “are my surviving wives. Marie and Thérèse [they had been christened thus by the park rangers] and in the back - my children, or the surviving ones.” Three little faces peeped out over the side. “C’n we come out yet Daddy? Kwame keeps pinchin’ me - tell him to stop.” “That is little Célèste speaking. And by her are her brothers - Kwame and Joe, the only three children of my family left. Their mothers are dead, dead, killed.” And he fell to weeping again for his loss. “Please, husband, do not weep,” said Thérèse speaking for the first time. Mummy could see in her face the resilience and resourcefulness which must have enabled them to evade the murderous poachers and she felt that here was some one who could help with Tulip! Marie spoke. “Mummy, our children are dead, the mothers of these children are dead. It was only a matter of time before the poachers found us too. Gavin told us of Tulip’s magical powers, and of her kindness to him. We came here in the hope that you could help us and that we would find sanctuary here in India.” At this Mummy burst into tears. We must now return to Tulip. She had seen Mummy dash off into the crowd. But instead of following she merely reclined. “Silly Mummy - disappearing and getting upset over her inferiority! Honestly, she can’t stay still for five minutes - oof, that’s pretty.” Someone had thrown a beautiful garland on the float. “Mm, tasty too. It really is nice to think I have nothing more to do and I can just relax all my life.” She had forgotten she wanted to make the world better for all cows. She had fallen into the sins of pride and decadence, she was spiritually weak. She trusted the officials, her instincts were clouded and she was ripe for being misled. The parade ended and Tulip got off the float while the police held back the crowds of petitioners - shooting one occasionally for fun. And then she spied- “Martin!” She had forgotten that he annoyed her - she only remembered his admiration of her. “And who’s this? Your young lady I’ll bet!” “Oh Tulip! You’re right. This is my Angel Girl. The most wonderful girl in the world!” “Oh darling door wedgy - don’t!” said Angel Girl giggling coyly. Martin spoke. “Yes Tulip, we are reunited and all is well, thanks to you!” This was what Tulip liked to here. “Yes, it was rather good of me, reuniting you, wasn’t it?” she said. “It was indeed. Without you, my life’s happiness would be unfulfilled. I am forever in your debt. You are, unquestionably, the most wondrous, miraculous, splendiferous, superlative cow in all the world! You know, I even heard people call you divine! These ignorant smelly illiterate superstitious and worthless peasants are capable of remarkable insights, aren’t they?” “They are, they understand my needs so,” sighed Tulip happily. “I am so glad to feel appreciated, Martin.” Cyrano Von Kugelschreiber decided at this point to put in an appearance. He smiled at Tulip through his thick and uncombed beard. Angel Girl spoke: “Oh Tulip, I must introduce you, this is my Guru - Kamadev. He has been teaching me Shivaic philosophy and helping me to get closer to Kali and the destructive forces that call me. He was very keen to meet you and congratulate you on everything.” “Well, thank you,” said Tulip. She was very pleased to meet a holy man. Besides, it was good PR. She turned and smiled for the photographers. When they finished, Cyrano spoke. “Tulip, mein dear, I vould esteem it a great pleasure und privalidge if you vould komm to my cave. Zere, ve could talk apout spiritual matters. Please komm.” “Oh yes - please do,” echoed Martin and Angel girl. Tulip was flattered. Besides, they were due to be here for several days. She could easily go. “Yes indeed,” she said. “Come on - we’ll go now shall we?” And so they walked off to Cyrano’s battered car and drove off to the cave. Gavin and Mummy arrived just as they were leaving - they followed. The journey itself was uninteresting - let us take the opportunity to look upon Mummy and the gorillas. Mummy had tearfully told Gavin about how fame had warped Tulip. “An’ Oi’m that ‘afeared Gavin. ‘cos if she git real angry she’ll dew a lot o’ harm. An’ she ‘on’t listen ter me at all.” Gavin, Marie, Thérèse, Célèste, Joe and Kwame collectively looked sombre. “It is as the Turkey said,” said Gavin after a long silence. “Beware of the heaven that will lead you to hell.” “Tha’s ‘xac’ly that,” said Mummy, “they is - what c’n we dew?” “Mrs Cow - hey!” Mummy, astonished at hearing cow spoken, turned and was even more astonished to see a human woman (for the crowds had now left), entirely naked except for her hair which reached down to her knees and covered her modesty. This was Sarasvati, and she was a holy woman who had lived in the wood in meditation ever since she was a child. Her patron, the Goddess of Wisdom after whom she was named had blessed the child at her birth and had given that she should understand the languages of animals. She had ventured out from the forest for the first time in nearly thirty years because she wished to see the holy cow. She had lingered after the crowds had gone because she wished to hear Mummy’s tale. “Mrs Cow, my name is Sarasvati. I live in the forest - I heard your story - it is terrible - I just wanted to say that I want to help.” Mummy was cautious but few humans knew Cow. Besides, he instinct said this human was ok. “Well, thankee Sarasvati - Oi’d be glad o’ some ‘elp.” So they got into the truck and drove off to find Tulip - only to see the car speeding away. “Who was she with?” asked Marie. “Well, Oi saw Angel Girl and Martin. Oi didna know tha’ was in India. Martin was allus flatterin’ Toolip an’ there was suffin’ rum ‘bout Angel Girl. Dunno who t’droiver was.” “I know,” Sarasvati blurted out. “He calls himself Kamadev and he is a bad man! He drugs and sexes them and blasphemes the Gods. I have him for it! If he has Tulip then there is trouble coming soon! And I am certain that is Demonker.” “Don’t you mean Angel Girl?” said Marie again. “No - she has a demon, the worst of Shiva’s servants in her. Durga (an incarnation of Kali and the destroyer of demons) could not kill it before she fought for a thousand years, so powerful is it. Yar - this is trouble - bad trouble.” At that Gavin needed no prompting - he pressed the accelerator down and they hastened to save their friend. Meanwhile, Cyrano had reached his cave and was talking eloquently about the benefits of his meditation. “Ja, Tulip, I teach a form of meditation which aims to put the practitioner with the major forces of the universe. Creation und destruction, light und dark, male und female. It brings to mind the mystical unions of Kali and Shiva - which of course Kamadev, the God of love, brought about (ha ha!) It is always very rewarding to lead young minds from the path of materialism and the ways of the shallow west and to dig deep into der heart of things.” Tulip remarked that it was all very interesting and said she would be interested in a course in his meditational practices. “I zink that my normal methods vould not be appropriate for you,” said Cyrano quickly, “But I think that I would like to do a group meditation exercise mit you, me and Angel Girl. Martin was speechless. He had been left by the car and was being totally ignored. Both Tulip and Angel Girl were totally absorbed in this silly Guru! He was reading something from a large book. Angel girl was sitting in the lotus position, her eyes closed and a beautiful smile on her face. Tulip was lying down, her eyes closed too. Suddenly they both began writhing and screaming like banshees on acid. It was terrifying - horrible. Martin tried to move towards Angel Girl to help her, but, being a mere door wedge, couldn’t. At that moment, Gavin and his family, Mummy and Sarasvati arrived in their truck. They got out and gaped at the horrible spectacle. Suddenly, Sarvasvaci ran towards Cyrano - followed by Marie and Thérèse. The girls did a rugby tackle and brought Cyrano to the ground while Sarasvati caught the book. “By all that is holy,” she cried. “it is a most evil and pernicious spell - a charm for the transferral of demons from the wicked to the spiritually weak - from Angel Girl to Tulip!” “Ja!” cried Cyrano / Kamadev. “und I have finished its recital!” Angel Girl was now lying prostrate on the ground but Tulip was leaping around like a demented slinky spring. “TOOLIP!” cried Mummy, agonised, but Tulip could not hear. She was shouting things. Cracks of thunder could be heard. Cracks in the very fabric of the sky were appearing at an alarming rate. The trees were turning to toffee and thousands of wasps were stinging everyone who stood in front of the sticky trunks. In the midst of all this, Mummy saw a familiar figure in a blur and white shirt, creeping slowing away. “Mr Dupoint! Oi bet tha’s him beoind all this.” She charged towards him. He pulled out a gun but Mummy was too incensed to fear a bullet. She ran straight at him -her head hit his stomach and he fell down, winded, spread-eagled on his back and Mummy pinned down his arms with her hooves. “Now them yew Naster barsterd,” said Mummy, so cross she broke who own non-swearing rules. “Was’s all this wi’ moi gal?” He snarled, “She rueened ma caircus - eet was ze fanest een all of la France - and she and zat mad wooman zere destroyed eet. Well, Ah wanted mah revenge! Ah ‘eard you all say zat you would come to L’Indie, so ah came to eenlist ze ‘elp of mah old friend Cyrano.” “Kamadev,” said Sarasvati. “Non - Cyrano - or whatever ‘e calls ‘eemself ‘ere.” “You mean he is not ever a Hindu and he has been blaspheming our Gods?” cried Sarasvati - and without waiting for an answer she rolled him over and tied his hands to his long unkempt hair. “Now Mister - you want to tell me what you’re doing here, yar?” “I don’t mean any harm - I am an Austrian. All I vanted vas to escape my government und get laid.” Meanwhile the Gorillas were trying to keep Tulip still. The children were throwing stones while the adults tried desperately to keep her from leaping. Finally, Gavin grabbed a branch and hit Tulip on the head. This quietened her. “But it will not be for long,” cried Thérèse. “Sarvasvaci - is there a remedy for the spell in that book?” Sarasvati picked it up and checked. Her face grew pale as she read. “Yar, there is a counter spell, but . . .” “But what?” cried all of our heroes. “But it is not written down. It says it is a spell that would melt the pages if it were written. The only way to get the spell is if a creature, a thing out of the reach of evil, were to go into the deepest layers of hell itself - there the spell is.” There was silence. It grew dark as pieces of the sky began falling down in the distance. Then - “I will go.” It was Martin. “Yis! He ain’ aloive properly - he’s out o’ the reach of evil,” said Mummy with glee. “This is indeed true,” said Saravaci. “He is a perfect candidate.” Kwame had found a rollerskate in the entrance to Cyrano’s cave. “Now, ‘ef we toi thet noice n’toight tew Martin ‘a c’n travel along,” said Mummy. Martin began mumbling - he didn’t really want to go, he just wanted to mark a grand gesture. “Now, I must concentrate. I must perform a certain rite to the God of the North wind,” said Sarasvati. “It will carry you on the air to the gateway to hell in the middle of the ocean - but I need to get the ritual exactly right.” “Ooh - the ocean - yew’ll enj’y ‘at ‘on’t yew Martin?” said Mummy, enjoying herself for the first time in weeks. “An’ hell tew! All foir an’ bad smells fer all the evil folks theer!” Martin was beginning to wish he had not volunteered. But he saw no reason why he should not make a grand speech. “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began - but Sarasvati began her ritual and he found himself rolling backwards. Then he felt himself being lifter faster - faster - ever faster, the wind whistling past his sides. Finally, he was conscious of falling and the water slowing.
Part 4
When Martin awoke, the first thing of which he was conscious was heat. Then he was conscious of lots and lots of noise. As he recovered he became aware of legs and queues. More and more details sprang out at him. The lines were long. He began to make out people’s voices. “Fuck this - I’ve been here for 700 years!” “Huh! I’ve been here for 50,000 years! But I can’t proceed until I’ve got form X88.5½bQ. I’ve forgotten how many times I’ve been at this desk . . .” “But they won’t give you that until you’ve got the form from the other desk . . .” “Which you can’t get unless you’ve got the pink form in triplicate . . “ “Which you can’t get until you’ve got X88.5½bQ.” “Sigh. Honestly, and they don’t seem to care at the front desk.” “No.” Just then a demon walked up and said to one of the talkers, “Excuse me Sir - but do you mind moving to the other queue. Over there?” “But-“ “Please sir - it’ll make things so much easier for our staff.” And he smiled. He looked so much like Tony Blair that Martin shuddered. “We’re very busy today - it’ll help our staff if you’d move.” And he pulled him roughly to another queue, right at the back. Assorted children were crying, whining over nothing at all and asking the adults innumerable questions. The demons at the desks were filing their nails, picking noses or reading. Occasionally they muttered a curt “You’ve not got the right paperwork. Can you go over there please?” “But-“ “Look. I can’t do anything without the correct form. You’ve got to go over there.” Only one person had a form - and Martin thought from the looks of it he wasn’t even homo sapiens. People jostled and pushed. They smacked people in the head and the demons at the sides laughed and egged them on. Martin felt oppressed and claustrophobic. He asked a passing demon (who bore an astonishing resemblance to Cherie Blair) what was going on. “Aren’t you supposed to be in line?” she snapped. “No - I’m a door wedge. I have no soul.” “Oh - well,” - and she smiled - “this is the reception area - and you have to get five forms signed in triplicate and stamped by the relevant authorities before you can enter hell proper.” “Isn’t this hell?” gaped Martin. “Oh no, dearie! But you might call it purgatory if you will. If you don’t have the patience to wait. Time has no meaning here.” At that moment in the line behind them began crying. She fell to the floor in despair and began hitting the ground. “Oh God! Oh Christ!” she cried. From a door Martin hadn’t noticed came some people in white coats. They gave withering looks to the laughing demons and picked up the fallen woman and carried her away. The demon pursed her lips and made a tally mark on a clip board hanging on the wall (which was painted a disgusting shade of turquoise puke). “Dear me - that’s the 89th this hour - the boss won’t be pleased.” “What happened?” asked Martin. The demon frowned. “They took her away.” “Where to?” “The OTHER place.” “Where’s that?” “The enemy’s house.” And she shuddered. “You mean,” whispered Martin, “God and heaven.” The demon winced. “Please don’t use language like that. Anyway, that woman was a penitent. And the enemy always sends those blokes in white whenever anyone repents - it reflects really badly on us. Just because he created the universe and is all pervasive and in everything he takes our people too!” She shook her head. Then snapped, “Anyhow - why are you here?” “Erm - I’m looking for the merciful one. You see my friend Tulip the-” Just then a whole group of people began screaming ad howling. More white coats came in and took them away. “Oh drat. I’ll have to get Satan to look over these figures, she said. “But you won’t find the merciful one here - thank the dark lord.” And she smiled, horribly. “He’s in the seventh layer of hell. Ooh - you’ll be warped and traumatised.” And she began giggling with the delightful thought of the horrors Martin would encounter. “This place is nothing to the lower layers, oh no! Hahahahaha! Oh Beelzebub - you’ll be so tortured you’ll forget to find the merciful one.” And she roared with delight. Martin was afraid. “Just tell me where to find the merciful one,” he said. Still laughing, the demon pointed to a door marked “Hell - level one. Permit holders only.” Martin skated along by the sheer power of his will - through the door. He was in hell. [With apologies to Sartre for the next bit.] There were hundreds and hundreds of rows of chairs. They were all filled but no one was speaking to each other. Martin found it soothing after the row of the reception area. He sat on his roller skate and basked in the calm - only interrupted occasionally by a demon calling a name. Then - silence. And more silence. Still more and more and more silence. After a while Martin found it oppressive. The stillness was getting to him. He glanced at the clock. Only 1 minute had passed! Impossible - he had been there for nearly an hour, surely? He began moving around. “Shhh,” went the patient sisters. Obviously they didn’t like movement. There were magazines around but no one was reading. They were nearly all home and garden magazines, save for a couple of cipies of Kred. No point in reading them now you’re dead. Time passed. Martin glanced at the clock. It must be half pa- only another minute gone! Martin gulped. He had to move - he’d go mad otherwise. One poor kid had gone mad. The white coats led him out but people round him looked at him with murder in their eyes. Their faces - they all looked horribly irritable. Hostile even. No regard to their follow waitees. It was vaguely chilling. What time was it, surely it was half past now! Only another minute had passed. Martin began to feel he had to get out. But how? There was no door - even the one to the reception area had gone. He had to get to the seventh layer. He tried moving again. His skate squeaked a little. A chorus of “Shhhh!” But Martin paid no heed. Not even to a grumpy woman who was getting more and more annoyed by the moment. Finally she kicked Martin - sending his skate right to the edge of the room. “Mrs Paterson?” a demon called. The old lady who had kicked Martin arose and moved towards the door where the demon stood. Martin moved quickly - just passing through before the demon closed the door. The second layer. Martin here saw many more white coats leading tortured souls out. Then he saw why. In front of the tortured souls, he saw a huge stage and a Britney Spears lookalike just finishing. “Thank you, everybody! It’s just wonderful to be here today!” “Noooo!” cried several people. “Don’t forget - you can catch me here every three hours - and on every other stage inbetween whiles! Thank you.” “Arrrrgh.” And thousands of people screamed and wept. Martin felt uneasy. Another demon mounted the stage. He had an Elvis quiff, Tony Blair’s grin [anyone get the feeling Ell doesn’t like Tony Blair? - (z)Ed] and a voice like William Hague’s would have sounded if he had been on E. “Are we all having a good time?” he asked. There was no sound. Only a few gibbering people who were crying. “Are we all having a good time?” repeated the demon, still in his unbearable tone of easy good humour. Again there was no answer. He grinned. “I can’t hear you! Are we all having a good time?” Again - nothing. This went on for some considerable time. Eventually it occurred to a few people to cheer and whoop, punch the air and scream “YESSS!” “Oh, I don’t believe you,” grinned the demon. “Are you having a good time?” And this continued for ages until the demon grew bored. “Right,” he said. “We’ve a treat for you this evening. Miss Melanie Simpkin will come on in a moment and treat us to a medley of Britney Spears’ finest. After that, we’ve got Natalie Sykes with her a cappella Britney Spears group. Finally - before the retrn of Sophie Tanner who you just heard - we’ve got Mark O’Conner, Hell’s best Robbie Williams impersonator! Thank you! Now heeeeere’s Melanie!” Another Britney lookalike came on, smiled gormlessly and waved to the crowd From what Martin could see they all looked suicidal - their despair increased by the knowledge that they could not commit suicide and escape it. There were many white coats taking them away - but a few had expressions of dogged determination on their faces. But Martin realised that the door to the next layer was not here. He went to find it. He found another stage. Here, the audience mostly consisted of young girls, girls who looked as though they would have enjoyed the Britney look-alikes. They were all weeping bitterly as the Nirvana like band quietened. “ROCK SOCIETYYYYYYY!” yelled the compeer. “ARE WE HAVING FUN!?” The sobbing increased at the sight of the compeer demon who was tall and hideous [oi! - (z)Ed] with streaming black hair. “Come on! ARE WE HAVING A GOOD TIME?” He yelled. Martin could see that they weren’t. But nearby was a door leading to the next layer - but he wanted someone to explain all of the strange things that he had seen. “Excuse me, my good sir,” he called to a passing demon “What?” grunted the demon. “Erm -“ Martin’s mind went blank. “Why do you not swap audiences? I think these young misses would prefer the other show.” “This is a place of eternal TORMENT,” said the demon, suddenly smiling like Tony Blair again and using a most condescending manner. “Hee hee! Look at those girls - so miserable! Yes - this layer is designed to make people bitter. Each layer desensitises you in some way. The last layer removes desire for human contact, it makes you miserable, this layer makes you even more so, hee hee! I do so like to see their misery. Their tortured faces! The horror as they are desensitised! Hee hee.” And with those cryptic remarks, the demon walked off again. He had said many things Martin couldn’t quite fathom. Still pondering he headed towards the door, to the accompaniment of girls weeping to a Joy Division tribute band (headed, incidentally, by Richard Curtis). Martin span, twisted and turned on his roller skate. He was scared that he would fall off in the tunnel. Faster and faster he whirled and twirled. Finally he came to a halt. He felt so stiflingly hot in the new place. No wonder. Huge boilers spouting smoke and letting loose huge tongues of flame filled most of the room. The rest was crammed with sweaty bodies of men, women and children who were trying to cram coal and wood (at this observation Martin shuddered) quickly into the boilers, but the sheer number of bodies made haste impossible. Demons were walking up and down, grinning, again à la Tony Blair, urging them to be quicker and when they weren’t, whipping them. There was a clock on the wall, but Martin guessed it would be like the one in the waiting room, only ever advancing by a minute no matter how long a time you left between glances. Martin could only see faces indistinctly. What little he could see scared him, especially when he glanced at the clock and saw how little time had elapsed. “COME ON! MOVE IT!” yelled the foreman as he whipped some little boys who had stopped for a second to wipe the sweat from their eyes. They yelped as the whip drew blood from their backs. One of them was sent reeling from the force of the blow and he fell onto a boiled which was glowing white with heat. He screamed, yet no one took any notice. Martin found this horrible. It was true, the previous layers had desensitised them. No joy or horror could move them beyond their own misery now. Suddenly, he felt himself being kicked. The indignity! Suddenly he recollected himself! He was Martin the marvellous door wedge. He was on a mission to save Tulip and the world. How dare any demon kick him!!!! He twirled around indignantly. “Explain yourself!” he called. “Hello! Are you our guest?” enquired the Tony Blair lookalike whose kind Martin had so grown to detest. “I just wanted to say, if you’re looking for the exit to level 4 then it’s over there. How do you like our boiler room?” “It’s - it’s horrible,” said Martin. “Thank you! We do our best. It’s a big operation. Oh sorry! I forgot to introduce myself. I am Satan.” The head himself! Martin was gobsmacked. “Oh. Why - why do you do all of these nasty things?” he asked. “Because they’ve done wrong,” came the ready answer. “But - do you have to be so, well, horrid about it? They’re suffering.” “Are they?” Martin looked. Though many faces were agonised, there were as many - if not many more - that looked resolute. As though they were determined not to let hell get to them. “Of course they’re all suffering,” said Satan. “But they are not going to admit it. Arrogant creatures, humans. What we do here isn’t inherently bad, they make it so themselves. You’ve seen those who cry out - they’re taken away. They stop suffering. But for their pride, their arrogance - they just won’t go! They make their own hell! Don’t you think so?” “Yes . . . but-“ Then Martin glanced at the clock - FIFTEEN MINUTES!! Satan was trying to distact him from his task! He had get out - quickly or Tulip would not be saved! “It’s really quite fascinating . . .” said Satan, putting his foot in front of Martin’s rollerskate. “How people deceive themselves. You what? Pride . . .” Martin was desperately trying to get round his foot, but he couldn’t. “Erm, excuse me Mr Satan, sir, do you mind if I get past. You see, I’ve got to see the merciful one.” “Why?” Satan’s smile vanished as he said this. “Well - you see, my friend Tulip’s got a demon in her and I have to see the merciful one to get the spell to get it out.” Satan grinned his vile Blairite grin again. “How did she get the demon? She was weakened by her own arrogance. A weak person is susceptible to illness. Likewise, a spiritually weak person - or cow in this instance - is susceptible to possession and other products of this place. It’s her own fauilt! The merciful one might not be able to help, he can’t help those who won’t be helped, who won’t ask for it.” “Are you trying to put me off?” asked Martin. “I’m simply telling the truth. The seventh layer of hell isn’t a nice place. Really, the third layer’s not too bad by comparison. Why make a horrible pointless journey?” Martin paused. Satan spoke a lot of sense. What if Tulip couldn’t be helped? And yet . . . yet . . . he swerved suddenly and be the sheer power of his will skated quickly towards the door. “STOP HIM!” cried Satan. Too late. Martin had got through the door. He was in the lower regions of hell. It was black ahead. Behind him was a yellow glow. An acrid smell. Heat. Coming closer - FIRE!! Damn! It was blocking off the way to level five. It burned up after him. No matter how fast he skated along he couldn’t escape it. Faster! Faster! Yet the fire only got faster too. He heard a scream. It was a girl. She was terrified too - but she didn’t seem to notice the fire. Why? She was even running right into it. Behind her, in hot pursuit, were some huge men. One was carrying a knife. Martin turned and gazed. She seemed to back to a piece of void - as though she were against a wall. The men closed in on her. Then she glanced. From the look on her face, Martin judged that she had seen an opening. She ran again and she was followed again. She kicked Martin out of the way. Ahead of her was a child. She was weeping and yelling “MUMMY!” and looking around. The girl who was being chased pushed the child out of the way and ran and ran. The child cried even more. Martin stopped. “This layer,” he mused, “is obviously what people fear. I fear fire, the girl is afraid of being attacked and raped. That child is scared of losing her mother. They can’t see my fears; I can probably only see theirs because I’m not dead. But their fear makes them unmindful of others and they cannot empathise with others’ fear.” It was brilliant! Simply yet deadly effective. Martin was almost impressed. He turned to face the door to the next layer. The flames were licking round it. But now Martin knew what was happening, he wasn’t going to let Tulip down! He skated through the door and wasn’t even singed. He was surprised to find himself in very opulent surroundings. A fat man sat in a bubble bath. He had both his arms around two beautiful girls who were smiling up at him. Yet he looked bored. He had a bottle of champagne in his hand. One girl was obviously doing her best to pleasure him. The other was giggling most attractively. Yet he looked bored. There was a stage in front of him. There were even more young women and even a few young men dancing on it in a highly suggestive manner. Several girls came up to him and offered more wine, chocolates and other tempting dainties. Yet he looked bored. Martin was intrigued. He skated up and coughed. The man turned and a flicker of interest lit up his face. “Well,” he said. “A novelty at last.” “Erm, excuse me Sir, but why do you look so bored? I mean, hundreds and thousands of men would kill to have what you’ve got if only for a single day.” “They can have it!” he cried. “I’ve had it for hundreds of years. I’ve done everything. No appetite I had - even the most vulgar and brutal has gone unsatisfied. I have done everything millions of times. I have no pleasure in anything! I have been so overloaded with the satisfaction of my every whim that I just can’t feel! Next door there is a gambler, he wins every time. There’s no more excitement - nothing for him. One of my neighbours likes making friends - but she’s made so many all she cries out for is solitude. We want a release from ecstasy - but we can’t get it! But you - you’re new. A talking door wedge! Please stay!” But the man had frightened Martin. Satan had so many torments and this was only the fifth layer! What would the last two be? Level six was quiet. A demon sat at a desk. Standing behind him was a man. The demon held a clicker in his hands and was showing the man some slides. “Isn’t your wife charming?” said the demon. “Such a sweet woman. She has a beautiful smile, lovely eyes and couldn’t you just stroke her hair?” “Yes,” muttered the man. “Wonderful personality too. She could always tell a good joke. But you didn’t give her much to laugh about, did you?” “No,” said the man, quietly. “You spent about ten hours a day at your office, didn’t you? And you were there most weekends weren’t you?” “Yes,” said the man. “And the overwork made you have a heart attack! Don’t you think it was a bit silly? You never liked your job. Very tedious - filing all those reports for a boss you hated, who wouldn’t promote you. You could have spent more time with your wife and little boy, couldn’t you?” “Yes,” said the man. His voice trembled. “You could have gone to that nice house you bought in the country. Your wife said it wasn’t any fun going without you. Yet you hardly ever went. Always too busy. Don’t you think you were rather stupid?” “Yes,” said the man, now choking on his tears. “Just think, if you hadn’t been so stupid and selfish, you could have been with her right now. Doing the garden, playing squash - you liked spending time with her, didn’t you?” The man was so choked up with his tears it was all he could do to nod. “And your son. He’s an adorable little boy! You hardly saw him. Don’t you remember how disappointed he always looked when you said you had work to do. You were going to do so much with him, play football, teach him to ride a bike . . .” “Look - why do you have to go over all of this?” yelled the man suddenly, punching the desk. The demon turned round and looked harshly at him. “You had a worthless and pathetic life,” hissed the demon. “You never did anything for the ones you loved. You wasted your few precious years, you killed your soul, and all for what? Promotion? Something you knew would never happen! That’s why! You don’t deserve any better. You are going to spend all eternity in regret. I will show you what you might have been until you break, until you scream with pain, until you howl in torment. You brought it all upon yourself, and there’s no way that you can make amends now! And believe you me, you deserve every minute of it. “Your son was just going to start school, wasn’t he . . . ?” Martin had listened to this awful litany with horror. Poor man! Having to be reminded of all his waster years. Yet the demon was right - he had wasted them. Yet was there to be no kindness to him? With a heavy heart he turned to the last door. He pushed it open. Beneath him was blackness and a dark swirly hungry noise. It sounded frightening. What would be there? He had seen so many awful things. What would the seventh layer contain? But his friends needed him. He rolled forward into the void. He tumbled down. Down until he felt the black tear him apart, consume him, pervade him. Then, he stopped. A bird chirruped in a tree. Up above were trees. They were covered with tiny fresh green leaves. Beyond he could see the sky, a fresh pale blue. Was this hell? Flowers covered the floor of the woods. He decided to skate on to the edge. Perhaps it was an ironical punishment. He skated on until he came to an open area. There was a little stream. A rose bush beside it - the roses were just starting to unurl from their buds and they were tinged with pink. He heard some voice - happy voices. Two forms were walking towards him. They almost looked like children, but they seemed indistinct. They were light, formless. They were impressions of children rather than actual ones. They held hands as they skipped along. One carried a ball. The other ran its hands over the long stems of grass. “Hello!” called one to Martin. “Are you new here?” “Erm, I’m looking for the merciful one,” said martin. “Over there,” said the other spirit, pointing. In the distance was another spirit. It was sat quietly, looking lost in thought. Martin went over quickly. “Excuse me but my friend Tulip is possessed by a demon an’- an’ an’ I need the incantation to drive it out,” he panted. The spirit looked down and seemed to smile. “Oh! Yes, I know all about that.” The spirit had a slow, pleasant voice. It didn’t seem either male or female. Just very gentle. “Yes, hang on a minute, I’ll write it down for you.” “Please be quick!” cried Martin. “No hurry at all,” said the spirit. “I’m going to send you back to the instant you left. Our time doesn’t relate to earth’s. Just rest a while. You look as though you need it.” Martin did. “Please, merciful one?” “Hmm?” “I thought this was hell. It’s nice her.” “Oh yes. But it’s also heaven as well as hell.” “But - how’s that possible?” “Look at that one there.” A distinct figure was walking up to child spirits who were playing with their ball. Martin recognised him at once, he was that Hitler chap Angel girl had drawn hearts around. He scowled at the two little spirits. “Hello. Come and play with us,” called one of them. “Nein,” scowled the man. He muttered something under his breath. “Why not?” called the spirits. “Do you think I would play with you! You little nigger shits! You don’t deserve even to be near me!” The spirits looked confused. One said, “But we left our bodies in the bitter world. Look at them.” A lion was licking a lamb’s head tenderly. The lamb nuzzled in his great paws. “If they can play together, why can’t you with us?” The man turned away in disgust. “You see, he has not left ‘the bitter world’ as they call it behind. He wouldn’t accept their friendliness. You just wouldn’t believe how much some people hate people being nice.” “So - this place is both heaven and hell - it just depends on your viewpoint?” “Right.” Martin was silent. He couldn’t fathom how people could be so stupid. Things were so nice here . . . “There - I’ve written that down for you,” and the merciful one tucked a piece of paper under Martin so it wouldn’t come off. “Can I . . . ?” began Martin, then he went quiet. “What Martin?” “Come back?” The merciful one smiled again. “Be kind Martin. Be kind, and if you really want to come back, then of course you can. Now I’ll send you back to India.” Martin smiled again and the next thing he saw was Tulip, prancing around, chanting her strange spells.
Part 5
He skated up to the astonished crowd and began to speak. "I am returned!" he cried. "Yes I am come home from the foul pits of Hell! I have seen things which no mortal eyes have ever seen! I have learned lessons which, though they were written on the corner of the eye with a needle, would serve as a lesson to the circumspect. I have.." "Cut th' crap out! Ha' yew got the exorcism spell?" Said Mummy who was rather more concerned for her daughter that Martin's hyperbole. "Yes" he answered sulkily. "Good, give it to me then" said Sarasvati who snatched it from underneath him, causing him to tip off the skate and be partially thrown into the ground. "Mumne mlp me" [someone help me] he tried to call, but everyone was studying the incantation. Sarasvati looked serious. "It is a spell in several parts, each more terrible and powerful than the last." She paused. "Such is their power I hesitate but.." She looked around her. There was enormous devastation, the trees had all been uprooted and molten lava was starting to seep from the ground. There were bits of blue sky here and there and more were falling down. Tulip was still chanting spells and Angel Girl was still screaming. Sarasvati began.
"Hoow many roads must a man waaalk down
[Yes, little did Bob Dylan know that he was a channel for one of the most powerful exorcism spells in all of creation]. "It's working" Cried Therese excitedly, "Look, Tulip isn't prancing any more". No more she was but Angel Girl's screams had increased and she sounded inhuman. "Keep going!" She yelled. Sarasvati had finished the first part of the spell and was now on the second.
"Save your kisses for me
"Tulip's on the ground, she is yelling so hard, my goodness it is bad" Yelled Therese. Mummy would have gone nearer to her but the sheer wall of noise meant that no one could get even remotely close. Angel Girl meanwhile had stopped screaming and was lying on the ground panting. Sarasvati moved on to the last part of the spell. The most fearful part, one that would drive the demon out of the bodies of Tulip and Angel Girl, a spell not to be used lightly. It would melt the flesh of any one who abused its power. She began "tragedy when the feelings gone and you can't go on it's tragedy when the morning cries and you don't know why it's hard to bear with no one to love you you're going nowhere..." [Yes the hypnotic power of the Bee Gees is that bad]. Tulip gave one last heaving cry and so did Angel Girl. From out of their mouths came a green vapour which came together. The Demon! It looked curiously unscary, like a small fat green version of Margaret Thatcher with no arms. "Foul beast of Hell" Cried Gavin. "Pleeble heebgyrrr" Replied the demon, it then ran off and cuddled up to Cyrano and M. Dupoint. "Googh huflrfh" it burbled contentedly. It then began trying to crawl into M. Dupoint's mouth. Cyrano quickly muttered an incantation and it blew up, burning both their faces. Sarasvati untied Cyrano and asked Mummy to let his friend go. "Now run away you bad men, go back to Europe or whatever, I don't care. But go far far from here" and she stood up to her full height (she was over 6 ft, the two men were considerably under that) and they ran away. "Yew didn' oughter 'a let em go. Think o' all they 'a did." Said Mummy "They 'on't stay away forever, they'm raly bad". "No I don't think so. I don't care, a wolf will probably eat them out here anyway. They left their gun and car, I don't think we need to worry. Come Mrs Cow, let us go to your daughter, Therese and Marie are beckoning". Tulip was stirring. Marie was cradling her head in her hands "look, she awakens" she said and tulip began to murmur. "Where - where am I? What happened?" "Shhh," said Therese. "You are safe now. The beast is gone, all is calm my friend". "Wha'" said Tulip. "Where's Mummy?" "Oi'm roight hare moi li'l darlun". "What happened Mummy?" Mummy looked at Sarasvati, the latter nodded. "Moi darlun, yew was possessed! Yew got spuretually weak - or suffin' loike 'at. But yew moind on the tour, yew got all naster t'everyone. That guru bloke what ware with Angel Girl, well that turned out he're a friend o' mister Dupwunt's! An' it tarned out Oi was roight, Angel girl did hev a demon in her an' they did a spell what passed that onter yew. Martin Had ter go tew Hell to foind the spell to get that out!" Tulip was silent for a while. She then said quietly "I've been very silly." She turned her head "there's Martin, he's stuck in the ground. Hadn't someone better fetch him out?" No one noticed Kwame, Joe and Celeste sneak away, bored with the lack of action. Gavin plucked Martin from the ground, spluttering at his ill treatment. But at Tulip's behest they listened to his story. At the end she said "Thank you Martin". At this point Angel Girl began to stir. Gavin carried Martin over so that he could be at her side when she awoke. "Where am I?" She said. She looked round. "Mum? Dad?" she said anxiously. Martin quickly spoke "You have no need of they who thought that you were mad, my darling - do you not recall how they tried to stifle you? To destroy our love and separate us? No longer! Nothing can now divide us. Our tragedy is turned to delight". Angle Girl looked in comprehendingly at Martin. She shook her head suddenly. "Fucking hell, I'm still dreaming" and she pinched herself. "No My dove, Angel Girl, you are not dreaming. The one true doorwedge of your life is here by your side and ever will be forever and ever" "What - doorwedges don't talk, and what sicko would love a doorwedge anyway?" Martin was speechless. "Angel Girl"- he began. "Look stop calling me that, My name's Chloe, I'm supposed to be at University." She stared ahead. "The last thing I remember was going to a party at Rob's. We were all making spliffs. There was this one guy who had a book on the dark side of religion, about summoning demons. He was reading from that. I- I don't remember anything after that". She then burst into tears. "I wanna go home. I - I waaannnaa gooo hommmme". Tulip spoke up - had someone better take her to the town and help her contact her home? "Fuck, talking cows too. Oh God what the hell has happened to me" she wailed. Sarasvati took control. Calming Chloe she looked into her bag and saw she had her passport and enough money for her to stay in a hostel for a few days and contact her family in England. "I think that I must go with her to the town and the police, and you animals, I think you should go away from this place too". "Yeh Oi think soo tew" remarked Mummy. "Oi don't loike this 'ere country o' your'n. Tha's tew full o' people what ain't honest". Sarasvati smiled. "One Day Mrs Cow, our India will be a happy country. Those who are in power will not regard the public resources as things for their own convenience. The ordinary citizens of our country will have their wishes carried out. Charlatans who try and mislead the gullible will be cast out. It has not happened yet, but still I have faith. One last thing, the book which Cyrano used to possess Tulip, you must ensure its destruction, it contains many dangerous things, you see how powerful it is in the wrong hands yarr, even the book itself is full of mischief. This you must see done". Sarasvati left with a hysterical Chloe towards the town. Mummy went to talk to the others, or rather to Gavin, Therese and Marie for Tulip was sleeping off her possession (being possessed by evil spirits is very tiring) and Martin was literally speechless. He Could not believe his Angel Girl had bee possessed and had rejected him! She told the Gorillas what Sarasvati had said and they started looking for the book. Suddenly they heard childish cries. "Mummy look, Joe an Celeste an' me're all flying!!!" "The Children"cried Gavin and they rushed over. The children were indeed floating. They were surrounded with scraps of paper. Mummy recognised them. "Tha's all from that book! They're bin eating it an' Sarasvati said as how tha's dangerous - look wa' tha's done to 'em". Gavin nearly swooned. Therese and Marie were more pragmatic. "We must get some vines so that the don't float away when they move on" said Marie. Little Celeste was crying. "Mummy, get me down, I don't like flying". "Ain' there no way tew reverse the spell?" asked Mummy. Therese answered that none of them could read. In any case the children had eaten all the pages, the scraps of paper left over had nothing written on them. By this time Kwame and Joe were also feeling ill. Joe had vomited over Marie who was trying to tie vines onto their legs amidst Celeste's tears. "Reckon we'll hafter wake up Toolip" said Mummy. Therese agreed. They tried to awaken Tulip from her deep slumber, finally succeeding after nearly half an hour. Tulip tried a spell
Magic gift
Nothing happened. The Children continued to float. Kwame began to cry too. "Troi agin Darl'n" cried Mummy.
Magic Gift,
Nothing happened. Again Tulip tried
Magic Gift
"Oh Magic gift - Just reverse the spell of the book and stop the kids floating" She yelled this in desperation. Nothing happened. Before the astonished group a small light appeared in front of them. It was the image of a fairy which began to speak. "This is a recorded message from the Department of Magical Misuse to Tulip the Cow. We have noted your misuse of the Magical gift awarded to you by Fairy Buttercup on 3rd March 2001. Your abuse of your position has caused a great disturbance in the fabric of the universe and we have reluctantly had to remove Miss Cow's magical ability with immediate effect. Please note that any existing spells will not be undone at this time but any further misbehaviour may well result in this. Any complaints will have to be made in Person to King Auberon as the department does not have the authority to reinstate magical users. He will be located at Faeries Lane, Ambleford, Breckshire until after Midsummer. Any complaints made after this date will not be Valid. This is a recorded message made by Fairy Bindweed on Behalf of King Auberon." And the light disappeared. There was silence.
To be continued . . .
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