A Right Old Fiasco in Borrington

by M W Foolster

  The Trojan streaker somehow managed to escape in the mayhem and is yet to be apprehended. A reliable source within the Borrington Police Dept has since informed me that the matter is now under internal investigation.

  Yet again, his mind drifts back to last night and that damned ghost. A European Champions league football game being shown live, no idea who was playing but the bloodsuckers were definitely engrossed, he'd heard them cheering enthusiastically. A vague recollection of staring up at the screen through tired and blurry eyes, but gave up when he kept seeing double of everything on the pitch. A final stumbling visit to the gents, legs not co-operating and sending him off at an angle that in turn led to an accidental collision with the raised plinth. And the ghost collapsing unceremoniously into his arms. The blood suckers oblivious to everything, the dozen or so punters remaining in the pub not remotely interested, Tony laughing and yelling. "Hey Jay, you've finally pulled, knew you had it in you."

  And so it began, his romantic evening with the Jolly Roger's ghastly ghoul. Tony improvising, changing the lyrics to ‘Storm Girl’ as he’d sung at the top of his voice, serenading both him and the newly named Ghostly Gertie as they'd danced down the street.

  ♪It can rain

  It can pour

  It can soak me through

  Don’t give a damn

  Gerts

  Now I’ve found you

  You’re my Ghost Girl

  So hold on tight

  You’re my Ghost Girl

  Gonna dance through the night

  Thunder can crash

  And lightning can strike

  The world can go to hell

  Cause

  I know this is right

  You’re my Ghost girl

  Know it’s true

  You’re my Ghost Girl

  Gonna work this through

  Monsoons can come

  Gales can blow

  Tidal waves can ♪..................................

  At that point, a deluge of water had appeared from nowhere, or so it had seemed, and soaked him from the knees down. That was then closely followed by yet another heavy downpour that left a thoroughly drenched Tony staring at him in stunned silence. Mystery solved as they’d then heard a deep, gruff voice yelling from the window above.

  "There's your rain you noisy sods. Now bugger off home an’ let people sleep will ya?"

  And so their merriment was brought to an abrupt end. Jason had doubled up with laughter, and could only watch on as a huffy Tony had squelched off in the direction of home, leaving a trail of drips in his wake. He'd only asked if the water had washed away Tony's sense of humour. Admittedly he had burst into hysterical laughter but hadn't intended any offence by it. And with Tony gone, he remembers having talked aloud to the ghoul.

  "Well Gerty, looks like it's just the pair of us now babe, still, two's company and three is just complicated."

  He had only walked a short distance before his conscience had got the better of him, decided to send Tony an apologetic text, the only problem being that he wasn't wearing his jacket. Had left it on the back of the chair in the pub, the mobile carefully concealed within an inside pocket. The thought of either Toby or Ryan discovering it had spurred him into action, and despite running at some very strange angles backwards and forwards across the road, Gertie was soon carefully hidden behind a bin as he once again entered the Jolly Roger. Jacket now safely retrieved, jeans slowly drying out, he’d felt a sudden chill running through body. Had decided that a double whisky was needed if only for medicinal reasons, after all, he couldn’t risk catching a cold. The usual delay before the moody bloodsucker Toby had banged it down in front of him. Knows that they had a brief conversation but has no memory as to what was said.

  A vociferous, "Last orders," had almost led to him dropping the glass. A vague recollection of looking at his watch and realising that they were shutting early. And then the smug satisfaction at having a little payback because he fully intended informing Big Mike. Several lights suddenly turned off which had led to Jason gulping down the whisky quicker than he’d intended before exiting the pub. Had staggered out, and with ghostly Gertie safely back in his arms, he’d caught sight of Toby moving swiftly in the direction of Addlington cemetery. Well, he isn't a cat and with curiosity having got the better of him, Jason couldn’t resist following. With the alcohol clouding his judgement and a full moon clearly visible in the night sky, following Toby towards the cemetery had sent his imagination into overdrive. Was it to be the night that the theories regarding Toby and Ryan would be proven to be true? Despite colliding with several bins, tripping over a bicycle and accidently kicking a food waste container across the pavement, he’d somehow managed to remain undetected. And sure enough, Toby had hesitated at the cemetery gate, checking to make sure the coast was clear, before climbing over. He’d hesitated for several minutes himself before attempting the climb, having been distracted by the strange noises coming from the car parked up in the Cul-de-sac, but it might be the only opportunity he'd get, so had decided it was worth the risk. With Gertie having been safely thrown over, Jason had found scaling the wrought iron gate anything but easy. Bitter cold to the touch and extremely slippery, he'd lost his grip several times on the wrought iron railings and had shrieked out in panic when his buttocks had slid across the sharp points at the top. The air knocked from him as he'd landed heavily on the other side, remembers scrambling to his feet but what happened next is blurry. He'd definitely crept amongst the grave stones in search of Toby, Gertie hitched up on his back and then he’d been struck on the head by of all things, a torch. Had appeared out of nowhere.

  The bus jolts to a sudden stop. He instinctively grabs hold of the seat in front, those standing aren't so fortunate and are thrown forward. A few raised voices, an apologetic bus driver, no harm done. He looks across at the teenager sat next to him, had she even noticed? An iPod plugged in, text book on lap, drumming away on her smartphone, oblivious to everything. Looking out of the window, he gasps in horror, the sight that meets his eyes sets his nerves on edge. He breaks out in a cold sweat. Every bus passenger’s worst nightmare. Buggy women. And he was sat in their domain. He nervously watches them surveying the territory, marking their spot, choosing the right moment to make their move. Doors open. Charging through what should be the exit door, obese buggy woman is the first on board, using her shear bulk to her advantage as she rams the huge double buggy towards him at a frightening speed. Nearby passengers visibly cringing as they desperately attempt to ease themselves out of her path and find a safe spot. Jason, though, is trapped, nowhere to escape to and sure enough, the huge buggy smacks heavily into his leg. He hesitantly looks up at her.

  ‘Shit, she really is enormous.”

  Buggy woman briefly makes eye contact with him, almost inviting a confrontational scene, well, she glares at him with one cold grey eye at any rate, the other is obscured by her lank and greasy hair. Best not to say anything or he would only be on the receiving end of a lot of abuse. The red haired woman in the business suit, who’s stood to the side of him, isn’t so restrained, tutting loudly as she glares menacingly at buggy woman before leaning into him, "Hey, you ok?"

  He smiles up at her and nods before suddenly becoming aware of obese buggy woman's two children, now strategically placed in front of him. He can't help but wish that somebody would give them a packet of tissues, their little red noses streaming, his stomach churning at seeing the green mucus hanging from their nostrils. Knowing when he is beaten, he stands up and leaves them to argue over who should have the seat. Second buggy woman isn't far behind, expertly slipping her 3 wheeler into the space next to the huge double buggy. Jason looks down at the free newspaper again, noticing the centre page headline for the first time, 'Spectacular Meteorite Shower over London.' He attempts to read the story but is suddenly feeling very self-conscious, having become aware of the attractive red haired business woman who seems to be constantly glancing across at him. Decides that trying
to concentrate on anything in this commotion is near on impossible, and with the newspaper now folded and rammed into his sports bag, he turns his attention back to the obese buggy woman. Sighs as watches her continue to create total chaos on the bus, which still hasn’t left the stop. In between yelling at her children to sit, and arguing with some now very irate passengers, she barges her way along the centre aisle in an attempt to get to the front of the bus, presumably to pay her fare. Deciding he’s had enough, Jason politely forces his way through the horde and after a few apologies, he finally exits the bus with a huge sigh of relief. It would mean a thirty minute walk but with any luck, he should make it to the library by 8:30, if not, then one of the others would have to open up.

  9 NostraTone

  On escaping the bus, Jason briefly catches sight of one of Borrington's more colourful characters. No mistaking that tall brown top hat with its green and yellow ribbon. Or the brown wool coat with its distinctive green velvet cuffs and collar, flapping open to reveal a red and yellow t-shirt with the roaring lion print. No doubt at all, it could only be NostraTone. And he's almost definitely here to preach to the commuters waiting for a tram. Jason desperately wants to stay for the entertainment that NostraTone will inevitably provide, but a quick check of his watch confirms that he just hasn’t got the time. But, then again, a few minutes won't hurt. He scratches at his head in surprise on noticing that NostraTone has come armed with a yellow megaphone, hasn’t seen that before. Jason grins as he watches NostraTone clamber to the top of a grey ticket machine, but starts to grow concerned, where is? And then he spots him. NostraTone's huge and constant companion, the trusty bull mastiff Rafa, slowly stomping his way across the platform. Muscles glistening in the morning sun, the powerful fawn coloured beast glances up at his owner before sitting at the base of the ticket machine. NostraTone surveys the bemused crowd, Rafa growling menacingly at anybody foolish enough to venture too close to his master. Shaking his head purposefully as he stares down at them, a steely determination in his eyes, his long grey beard flapping wildly in the wind, NostraTone nods approvingly. And with a less than steady hand holding the megaphone close to his mouth, the rich sound of his voice booms out.

  “The end is a coming so you all listen up... Don’t go turning your back on me. You hearing me Sister?”

  His fierce brown eyes piercing into the back of the disinterested woman wearing a denim dungaree, who now appears, not surprisingly, to be in a desperate hurry to escape the platform.

  “You all got to listen up and I am telling you, listen good. You is all sinners and you is all being judged... Don’t turn your back man.”

  A plump, suited man wearing spectacles blushes furiously, dismissing NostraTone with a shake of his hand.

  “Brothers and sisters, you all got to listen up. Got the gift of the sight and the message in my head,”

  As if to prove the point, he thumps his own head, possibly a little too hard because it causes him to waver precariously and almost lose his balance, drawing sniggers from the newly formed and attentive crowd. Having steadied himself, he continues.

  “Come all you people, don’t walk on by.”

  NostraTone waves his finger theatrically in a semi-circle.

  “Come, gather around… Brothers… Sisters. What I got to tell you is no word of a lie. Not from books that I read. No Sir. This came as a booming in my head. Told me to preach this message when it gave me da words,”

  Several male teenagers, school shirts hanging loose, blazers undone and collars raised, start heckling him.

  As if on cue, his head pointed skywards, Rafa releases a blood curdling howl that results in the nearest commuters warily backing away. Even NostraTone is taken by surprise, forgetting that he still has the megaphone pushed to his mouth as he reassures the dog.

  “Chill Rafa is cool. Nothing to worry about, they be kids who don’t see the light, but theys’ will. Good boy. Chill.”

  He pulls what appears to be a savaloy from his coat pocket and throws it, probably harder than he’d intended, at the dog. Watches as it bounces up from the dogs head into crowd. Not that Rafa seems to mind. Nose on the ground, he sniffs it out from between the feet of a petrified schoolboy. NostraTone smiles on seeing that it’s one of those who’d been heckling him but seconds earlier. Rafa gives a growled warning to any would-be savaloy poacher before greedily gobbling it down, and returning to his master. NostraTone is delighted with the effect that Rafa has created, nodding his head enthusiastically, his finger wagging at the now subdued school boys. Almost daring them to speak. And with the next tram having been delayed by ten minutes, according the message board, the frustrated commuters are left with little alternative other than to stand and listen.

  “I to walk the streets day and night

  And gather up you sinners to shows you da light.

  Time is short and da day is a dawning

  When will be too late to pass on da warning.”

  He pauses dramatically, his finger raised towards the crowd, and continues,

  “I tell you, brothers

  And I tell you, sisters.

  In da blink of an eye

  It will arrive in da sky.

  Through da blackness of night

  Comes da blood red light.

  To purge this here planet.

  Cleanse it of sin.

  Be da day of the comet

  When da new world begin.”

  “What are you doing, Tony? Trying to scare these poor people to death?”

  All eyes now turn to the ginger haired male, who’s busy brushing Rafa’s slobber from his green corduroy trousers with a soggy hanky.

  "And will you please get down from up there."

  Hanky disposed of, and now tugging furiously on his ginger goatee, his long and wispy red hair escaping in all directions, the man stares up at NostraTone over the top of his silver rimmed glasses. Rafa seems content enough to just lean against him, the man’s hand gently stroking the head of the appreciative dog. However, NostraTone is anything but appreciative of the interruption.

  “This here man, brothers and sisters, he is da man of science. He not believe in nothing that his eyes not see beneath the microscope. He not have faith. He lead you alls into the darkness.”

  The commuters murmur amongst themselves, growing agitated at seeing that there is yet another delay to the trams arrival, now showing 12 minutes.

  “Will you please get down from there before you fall and hurt yourself? Come on Tony, I will buy you and Rafa breakfast. What do you say?”

  “I say this. I seen it with my own eyes man of science. And I tell you this brothers and sisters, it will come. I seen its fiery breath. I hear its message.”

  His finger wagging furiously in an attempt to regain the attention of his now disengaged audience.

  “Da fire all consuming

  Screams all through da night

  Hells blood, red breath

  Burning all in its sight

  For is da force and da fury

  Leavin’ death in its wake.

  Nowhere to flee to.

  Nowhere to hide.

  Is da day of the comet

  Come to claim all da life.”

  Triumphantly thumps at his chest as he stares skywards, perhaps too enthusiastically because he starts to wobble, only this time he does lose his balance, and staggers backwards. A gasp from the crowd as he disappears over the edge of the ticket machine. Fortunately, the wire fence sectioning off the tram platform’s from the raised embankment breaks his fall, and he slides down it before slumping to the ground in a mild state of shock. The crowd erupt into laughter. Having struggled to manoeuvre his leg away from Rafa’s bulky body, the ginger haired male is the only one who makes any attempt to assist NostraTone.

  Jason considers yelling across to his ginger haired library colleague but doubts that Robbie would even hear him, besides which, he now seems to be playing peacemaker. NostraTone has become involved in what appears to be a heated conversat
ion with the plump, suited commuter he'd drawn attention to earlier. Struggling to refrain Rafa with one hand, waving the yellow megaphone around threateningly with the other, NostraTone's voice is now raised in anger. Robbie's in the middle of them, oops, and has just been poked in the eye by the irate commuter; looked accidental though. Despite that, Robbie is waving his fist in retaliation. Possibly not the best course of action, the commuter appears to have taken offence at the gesture and now has hold of Robbie in a headlock, frog marching him along the fast emptying platform. That is until NostraTone, perhaps unintentionally, loses his grip on the megaphone which scores a direct hit on the back of the plump commuter's head. But that does at least lead to the shocked commuter relinquishing his grip on Robbie. Jason then draws a sharp intake of breath on seeing the megaphone bounce up from the commuter's head and hurtle towards a pair of enormous guys wearing high visibility yellow jackets and muddy builder’s boots. Jason releases an enormous sigh of relief at watching it fall short of them. However, Robbie's face has now gone a furious shade of red and he looks to be shaking with anger, and despite looking unsteady on his feet, he gives the commuter a hefty boot up the backside. That, in turn, leads to the commuter flying helplessly towards the two builders who do at least prevent him from flying off the platform, their bulky frames bringing him to an abrupt stop.