Rebel Without a Clue
Page 20
“See what happens when you don’t”—crash—“listen to me,” snapped Bunnie. She toppled to the ground, missing a screeching cat by inches. The cat jumped from cans of paint to one shelf and then another, sending debris flying. He landed on the third shelf, skidded on a pile of leaflets, and rolled off the edge. A paw grabbed the edge, and for a moment the cat dangled like spaghetti from a fork as leaflets cascaded to floor.
As the last leaflet fluttered past Bunnie, she caught a glimpse of some of the words on the cover: Edinburgh, Johnny, and free.
“Johnny,” she shouted as the last leaflet fluttered on to pile of hen poo followed by the cat.
Archie, Woody, Pete, and DJ stood at the door.
DJ pick up a leaflet; on the front, written in comic text, was “Johnny Gets Legless at the Weekend.” Underneath was a cartoon picture of a blond-ponytailed man in a kilt hanging over a motorbike looking more than hung over.
“Looks like Johnny’s doing his storytelling at the festival,” said Woody.
“We’ve just been there,” muttered Pete.
“And it’s free,” said Woody.
“I could have told you that,” said the Ol’ fella. “All’s you had to do was ask.”
Hilda’s Epilogue
“A WORM NEVER TURNS, it only rolls”—the Ol’ fella
Hilda was lying in her onesie watching the only H-Pad working on her planet. Hilda had, thanks to the footman, connected to the remote control sitting on the shelf in the shed, and she now had access to all of DBO’s operations—and no one had a clue, which was probably not always a great thing. Now she knew what women thought of her and, to be honest, she was a little shocked. She had always prided herself in her taste in clothes and her ability to be fair.
She watched Mex bliss out on tablet, she watched Don and Bunnie search the shed, and she laughed until her sides split.
Hilda saw it all while sipping her chilled sparkly; she watched as they left for the festival.
She continued to watch as the Ol’ fella talked to the dog. “Look after the cat will yer, I’ll be off for a while.” She watched as he pulled out a kilt and slipped it on, took off his wig, and brushed his hair into a ponytail. She watched as he pulled out a motorbike, slipped on a backpack, and headed down the track . . .
Hilda looked in the mirror and stared at her kookaburra like hair, she brushed it down and it spiked up again. Soon that spark plug will be mine and then we’ll see who’s fair on this pickled egg of a planet.
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Dedication
I would like to dedicate this novel to my husband. He finds me funny even in the morning. English is not his first language and yet he has listen to me read and laughed in all the right places.
He also fed me wine, curry and more wine during the making of this book.
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Also by Kerrie Noor
Bellydancing and beyond
Sheryl's Last Stand
The Downfall of a Bellydancer
Planet Hy Man book 1
Rebel without a clue
Watch for more at Kerrie Noor’s site.
About the Author
A few years ago I married into a Bangladesh family often helping in their Indian restaurant on the West Coast of Scotland. Living in a culture so different from my own I began to see stories in outsiders trying to understand. Most of the time I was the only woman and I often wondered about a world without men; before I knew it Planet Hy Man was born, a comedy Sc Fi Rebel Without a Clue being the first in the series.
Read more at Kerrie Noor’s site.
About the Publisher
Kerrie Noor is a self published author, who would like to thank Joanne Penn, Nick Stevenson and Ben Gallery all Indie authors who are generous with their support and provide excellent courses for self publishing Authors. Kerrie is also grateful for the support of Peter Urpeth of Emergents.co.uk,and Creatthinkdo