Clovenhoof 05 Beelzebelle

by Heide Goody

  “That!” yelled Nerys. “Run! Everybody, run!”

  The world shifted beneath Michael’s feet. Or, to be precise, the waist-deep bog of eternal stench shifted about him. He managed to maintain his grip on the van door and hold himself in place. Just. He made a grab for Chip but, caught unawares, Chip Malarkey was pulled under the surface as though he had been grabbed by a tentacled horror from the deep.

  “Chip!”

  Michael clung to the van door and fought the pull of the ooze, the forces dragging the crane line several degrees away from the vertical. His arm muscles screamed in agony. If he could just lift his legs out …

  Above him, cables snapped loose, and the van swung free to hang solely by the straps wrapped around its front axle.

  The deck beneath him suddenly gave way and, within the church building below, walls imploded and Michael was no longer stood on the flooded deck on an ark but mired in the walls of a rapidly emptying bowl. At what had been the centre of the deck, a whirlpool-like vortex appeared, and Michael found himself not dragged directly towards it but off to the left, drawn into its sucking gyre.

  He let go of the door handle, rolled in the muck, and looked up to the distant crane cab.

  “Andy …” he called, and then the foul soup closed over him.

  Nerys had grabbed Ben’s hand and pulled him away, but they got no more than a few yards before the Consecr8 doors exploded outwards, and then the wave bore down upon them. Ben had never been in a washing machine, but he imagined it would be a similar experience, if the washing machine was the size of Boldmere and it was filled with human crud. For long, terrifying moments, he had no idea which way was up, and was convinced that he was going to drown in the tumbling blackness, but then he found the pavement. He found it by being slammed upon it painfully, but he clung to it, wondering if he might possibly be able to stand and break the surface of the water. He tried, but then a huge, unseen current dragged him sideways, and he tumbled over and over in a different direction. Panic turned to despair, but then he felt a hand grab his waistband and haul him above the surface. He gasped for air and sucked it in so greedily that he started to cough.

  “Put some effort in, Kitchen!” shouted Clovenhoof.

  “What?”

  “Get on board my inflatable tits, man!”

  Ben flailed and felt the touch of slippery plastic. Scrabbling with his hands and with Clovenhoof hoisting him up by his belt, Ben managed to flop onto the sanctuary of the bouncy castle that was now afloat in the vile flood.

  Looming above him, Clovenhoof’s grinning face was like something out of a nightmare, as Ben spat out the unspeakable detritus from his mouth. Nerys was there already, panting and spluttering. All around them, people were crawling from the filthy water.

  “Come one, come all!” bellowed Clovenhoof. “Everyone, come on my tits!”

  Ben sat up and took in the scene.

  Their inflatable raft drifted on the wave, away from the remains of the church, picking up bedraggled and confused people on its way. The church was gone. Splintered wood and oddments of furniture bobbed in the water. All signs of the formula milk display were gone too, although the sewage in that area had a thick, porridgey look that suggested it was forming part of the flood. Cars had been washed down the street but, miraculously, the disco lorry was still standing, with Toyah, Belle, several boys, and a capuchin monkey gazing down upon the flood.

  Ben crawled over to Nerys and gave her a nudge.

  “You all right?”

  Nerys gave him a look.

  “Define all right? I think I’m physically unharmed, until the typhoid from the sewage kicks in anyway.”

  The water level quickly dropped as the dark water spread out across Beechmount Drive and the Rainbow housing estate. The bouncy castle, a score of flood survivors clinging to its lewd surfaces, washed up in Jenny’s front garden, where it had been originally placed.

  A thought occurred to Ben. “Jeremy, did Michael get out?” he called.

  Clovenhoof shrugged. “Michael’s a survivor, but I’m not sure exactly where he – ah, there!”

  Two figures rose from the swampy remains of the Consecr8 church. Initially, it was hard to determine that they were even human, but, as the sludge slid off them, it became clear that it was Chip and Michael.

  “Michael!” shouted Ben. “You’re all right!”

  Ben slipped off the bouncy castle, rolled in the shallow muck, and picked himself up. Clovenhoof and Nerys managed to make a more graceful exit, and they walked over. Around them, hundreds of people, some clothed, many not, some shit-spattered, many coated in filth, staggered and stared in bewilderment, horror, and revulsion.

  “I bet you’re loving this,” Nerys said to Clovenhoof.

  “Don’t think I’ve ever been happier,” he agreed.

  “Get back!” yelled Chip, flinging his arms and flecks of sewage at the approaching people. “Stay away from me, you filth!”

  “It’s all right,” said Michael, soothingly. “It’s over.”

  “But look at them! Filthy, depraved, sordid, and base!”

  He flung out an accusatory finger which seemed to pin this accusation on Nerys’s breasts, although Ben couldn’t necessarily say which one specifically.

  “You ridiculous shit-gobbler!” she snapped. “You’re the one who’s ripped off hundreds of local people. You’re the one who’s corrupted local politicians. And you’re the one who ran over my dog!”

  “Dog?” Chip’s fury reduced his voice to an exasperated and breathless squeak. “Who gives a damn about your dog?”

  Ben heard a groan (or was it a growl?) from the crane overhead. He looked up at the dangling transit van, then to the empty cab.

  Down on ground level, Andy and Zack were approaching through the slurry from the opposite direction. Andy broke into a run.

  “You’re the animals!” Chip ranted. “Yes! You! All of you! I’d rather be drowning in human waste – yes, you heard me – I’ll take any amount of sewage, but you people are rotten to the core!”

  “The Almighty has faith in them,” said Michael, and placed a hand on Chip’s shoulder.

  Chip shrugged it off angrily. “Don’t try and force feed me that drivel.” He looked up to where the top of his ark had once been. “Up there, you almost had me convinced. But now I’m down here with them, up close …” He gave the crowd an ugly scowl of hatred.

  “I admit I struggled with that too,” said Michael. “I loved them more the further away from them I was but, down here on earth, eventually …”

  “Michael!” shouted Andy, waving.

  Michael grinned and made towards his boyfriend.

  “Go!” screamed Chip to the crowd. “Go, all of you! Run to your homes, your pits of sin. The day of cleansing is yet to come, but it will come!”

  “The van!” shouted Andy.

  “I know!” Michael shouted back. “Ingenious!”

  “No!” yelled Andy. “The van!”

  Michael frowned.

  “You will see God’s power in action,” snarled Chip. “You will see it come down and wipe the evil from the face of the earth.”

  “The van,” said Michael.

  Ben squinted. He felt it might have been a trick of the light but, for an instant, he saw something dark and beastly moving on top of the precariously hung van. There was another growl (or was it a groan?).

  Chip looked up at the van – his van – directly above him.

  The stretch transit van slipped its final bonds and nose-dived to earth.

  “Oh,” said Chip.

  The van crumpled into the ground, end on, and then stayed there, upright, like a battered white monument to the man it had just squished. Stunned silence held sway over the on-lookers.

  “Do you think he’s dead?” said Reverend Zack, eventually.

  “What?” said Ben.

  “Are we sure he’s dead?” he said. “I mean, should we try and get him out, give him first aid?”

  Cloven
hoof clapped Zack on the shoulder. “He’s currently taking up a space that looks to me to be about two inches high. I’ve got a much better idea. Let’s order deep pan pizza and then we can make sure we’ll have a coffin that’s the right size.”

  “You are a sick, sick man,” said Michael.

  Zack pulled a face as Clovenhoof cackled at his own joke.

  The foam guns of the disco lorry and the hoses of the local fire service were employed to clean off the crowd. An orderly queue formed (because the British – even in an apocalyptic toilet-themed disaster – understood the importance of a good queue).

  As they emerged from the human-washing process, Ben took off his jumper and gave it to Nerys to cover her naked upper body.

  “Is that your dog?” he said.

  “Twinklestein? No, he’s at home with a chewy …”

  The Yorkshire terrier yipped at her from the roof of a nearby car.

  “Twinkle!” she said sternly. “Come here now!”

  The tiny dog stepped from foot to foot nervously, apparently unable to get down from the car. Nerys went over to pick him up.

  “Good boy! Who’s my beautiful boy, then?”

  She tickled him under the chin.

  “You know,” said Ben, “I had wondered where your dog was because, just before that van came down, I thought I saw something up there and …”

  He stopped, derailed by the ludicrousness of the idea. He looked away.

  Andy approached with a pile of fresh clothes.

  “Thank you, Andy, my man,” said Clovenhoof, reaching for them.

  Michael slapped his hand away. “They’re not for you,” he said, and took the T-shirt from the top. “You were magnificent.”

  “Thank you, dearest,” said Clovenhoof.

  “Again, not for you,” said Michael.

  “I was quite magnificent,” agreed Andy.

  “I don’t know how I can ever show you how grateful I am.”

  “May I suggest sorting your friends out with somewhere to stay, for starters. You know, now that we’re nearly done with ‘the decorating’. I heard they’ve been living in utter squalor.”

  Toyah stepped down from the truck, holding Belle, Spartacus behind her, sploshing experimentally through the muck on the floor.

  “Do most protest events end like this?” she asked.

  “Jeremy specialises in death and destruction,” said Nerys. “This one more than most.”

  “I’m thinking how we could commemorate this astonishing event,” said Ben thoughtfully.

  Nerys narrowed her eyes. “Are you about to say something about recreating it as a scale model using stuffed gerbils or something?”

  “Um, maybe.”

  “Naked mole rats would be better,” said Clovenhoof.

  “Not sure the SCUM mothers would like to be represented as naked mole rats,” said Nerys.

  “Speaking of which,” said Clovenhoof. “Where are they all?”

  “They went straight to the Boldmere Oak,” said Toyah. “I saw from up there. Lennox has a hose outside to wash them down. I’ll join them in a mo.”

  “I told you you’d enjoy joining a mother’s group.”

  “I’ve offered to run a self-defence class for them.” Toyah beamed with pride. “Anyways, you did all right in there. You got my Bea out safe, although I think your monkey’s the one with the brains, to be honest.”

  “He is an amazing monkey.”

  Gorky back-flipped. Belle clapped her hands in joy.

  “And a show off,” Clovenhoof added. “You know, you really ought to take him on as your live-in nanny.”

  Toyah gave him a look. “Has he got some monkey disease or something?” she said suspiciously.

  “No, but he really, really loves to care for babies. And you can pay him in oranges.”

  Gorky jumped up and down in approval, while Toyah considered the plan.

  “I suppose I’m used to the strange animal smells and things that aren’t necessarily house-trained,” she said.

  “Was it that bad when you were with Animal Ed?” asked Clovenhoof.

  “No, I’m talking about Spartacus.”

  “Mom!” moaned the pre-teen menace.

  “And I hope you’re still okay with me helping out from time to time?” said Clovenhoof.

  “Sure, long as you put some clothes on, that is.”

  “Hmmmm,” said Clovenhoof, regarding his own lack of clothes. “I reckon Heinz would have got some superb shots of me. Wonder what happened to them?”

  “You might want to check out hashtag Sutton Sausage,” said Toyah, pulling out her phone. “It looks as if Heinz is in the pub as well.”

  “Come on then, gang,” said Clovenhoof to the rest of them. “If Lennox has been kind enough to get his hose out, we really shouldn’t ignore the man. To the pub!”

  About the authors

  Heide and Iain are married, but not to each other.

  Heide lives in North Warwickshire with her husband and children.

  Iain lives in south Birmingham with his wife and two daughters.

  Acknowledgements

  As John Donne said, no man is an island, and no book is a solo effort. I mean, obviously, this isn’t a solo effort because there are two of us, but even if we had been just one person or were like two people squashed together to make a single author, this still wouldn’t be a solo effort.

  We’d like to offer a big thank you to Tracy Fenton, Laura Pontin, Sarah Hardy, Karina Garrick, Tracy Karet and Lindsay Stone from THE Book Club who read early drafts and gave us feedback and advice and all round support when we needed it.

  Thanks also to Keith Lindsay (for some skilful edits and more than a couple of gags in this volume), to Christina Philippou (for proofing this work and helping us see the errors of our ways here and there) and to Mike Watts (for yet another cracking cover).

  And, always (and not just because we have to), an enormous thank you to our better halves, Simon and Amanda, who put up with our stupidity on a daily basis.

  Seriously. Daily.

  Many, many thanks for reading this book.

  Readers are the reason that we do this, and we appreciate each and every one of you.

  If you'd be kind enough to leave a review, we'd be very grateful for the feedback.

  Clovenhoof by Heide Goody & Iain Grant

  Charged with gross incompetence, Satan is fired from his job as Prince of Hell and exiled to that most terrible of places: English suburbia. Forced to live as a human under the name of Jeremy Clovenhoof, the dark lord not only has to contend with the fact that no one recognises him or gives him the credit he deserves but also has to put up with the bookish wargamer next door and the voracious man-eater upstairs.

  Heaven, Hell and the city of Birmingham collide in a story that features murder, heavy metal, cannibalism, armed robbers, devious old ladies, Satanists who live with their mums, gentlemen of limited stature, dead vicars, petty archangels, flamethrowers, sex dolls, a blood-soaked school assembly and way too much alcohol.

  Clovenhoof is outrageous and irreverent (and laugh out loud funny!) but it is also filled with huge warmth and humanity. Written by first-time collaborators Heide Goody and Iain Grant, Clovenhoof will have you rooting for the bad guy like never before.

  F. Paul Wilson: "Clovenhoof is a delight. A funny, often hilarious romp with a dethroned Satan as he tries to adjust to modern suburbia. The breezy, ironic prose sets a perfect tone. If you need some laughs, here's the remedy."

  US: http://www.amazon.com/Clovenhoof-ebook/dp/B008PYLULG/

  UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Clovenhoof-ebook/dp/B008PYLULG/

  Pigeonwings by Heide Goody and Iain Grant

  As punishment for his part in an attempted coup in Heaven, the Archangel Michael is banished to Earth. The holiest of the angelic host has to learn to live as a mortal, not an easy job when you’ve got Satan as a next-door neighbour.

  Michael soon finds that being a good person involves more than helping out at Sunday
school and attending church coffee mornings. He has to find his purpose in life, deal with earthly temptations and solve a mystery involving some unusual monks and a jar of very dangerous jam.

  Sequel to the best-selling Clovenhoof, Heide Goody and Iain Grant have written a wild comedy that features spear-wielding cub scouts, accidental transvestites, King Arthur, a super-intelligent sheepdog, hallucinogenic snacks, evil peacocks, old ladies with biscuits, naked paintball, stolen tractors, clairvoyant computers, the Women’s Institute, and way too much alcohol.

  The novel is available from Amazon.

  US: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00EGP9UNS

  UK: http://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B00EGP9UNS

  Godsquad by Heide Goody and Iain Grant

  The Team:

  Joan of Arc, the armour-plated teen saint of Orleans.

  Francis of Assisi, friend to all the animals whether they like it or not.

  St Christopher, the patron saint of travel who by papal decree has never existed – no matter how much he argues otherwise.

  The Mission: An impossible prayer has been received by Heaven and it’s a prayer that only Mary, Mother of God, can answer. Unfortunately, Mary hasn’t been seen in decades and is off wandering the Earth somewhere. This elite team of Heavenly saints are sent down to Earth to find Mary before Armageddon is unleashed on an unsuspecting world.

  Godsquad:

  A breathless comedy road trip from Heaven to France and all points in-between featuring murderous butchers, a coachload of Welsh women, flying portaloos, nuclear missiles, giant rubber dragons, an army of dogs, a very rude balloon and way too much French wine.

  Godsquad is available from Amazon