by Paul Vayro
Chapter One
“You’re fired!”
“Ha, ha.” Spiritwind Jones offered Brick a playful kick to accompany the news their boss had imparted.
“You’re fired too Mr Jones. I didn’t invite you here just to gloat over your friend's misfortune.”
“Oh.” Spiritwind took back his kick with a nonchalant face; Brick added a smug grin as garnish before raising what he believed was an essential point.
“Technically Mr Doyle you can’t actually fire us. You can only return us to our agency with a shake of the head and thorough disapproval.”
“Sending you back to your agency with a shake of my increasingly infuriated head simply would not cover the level of annoyance you’ve caused me in the three days you’ve been here.” Mr Doyle grew slightly red as he spoke. “Now, we’re in my office and I can say and do whatever I like, and I’d really like to say that you are both fired.” Displeasure boiled to polite anger.
“Could I ask why?” Spiritwind required a reason.
“You just did mate.” Brick required a slap for pedantic behaviour.
“Well I had to ask in order to ensure I could ask.”
"Then should you not have also requested permission to ask if you could ask?"
"I suppose by my own rules then yes, but you're forgetting...."
“Shut up, shut up, shut up.” Mr Doyle rubbed the top of his increasingly bald head. It was all he could do to stop his hands reaching out to the pair’s throats. “Why does everything have to turn in to a mindless debate?”
“Because Mr Doyle all too often in life we let the small things pass us by when in truth they are the most important things in disguise.” Brick looked wistfully towards the picture of Mr Doyle and his area manager. The windy day it was taken on had done nothing to improve either man’s image.
“How enlightening Mr Wall. Perhaps you should write a book and try to sell it to people who give a crap.”
“As much as I appreciate the career advice Mr Doyle I’m not sure it should be expressed with such language.” Brick sensed a man on the edge of flying into a rage, a curious beast that should be teased to the exact point of snapping before being allowed to calm down.
“No need for……I’ll give you no need.” Mr Doyle wagged his finger to release some of his fury. Brick was about to query exactly what being given 'no need' would entail. The question was deflected by Spiritwind pulling a hand sized slice of gateaux from his pocket. He was considering the best angle to attack it from when Mr Doyle noticed. “What are you doing?”
“I’m having a snack. You two seem to be getting on fine without me.” Half the slice disappeared.
Mr Doyle’s crimson tint increased as the little hair he had grew ever more flustered. “And where did you get this ‘snack’ from?”
“The waste trolley.” Cream remained on Spiritwind's top lip as he swallowed the majority of the treat.
“The waste trolley you were instructed to dispose of and under no circumstances eat from? The trolley you are being sacked for eating from?”
“That’s the one. You wouldn’t really sack someone for eating something that’s being thrown away would you?”
“I’ve just done it. Am I the only person in this room that's actually listening to this conversation?”
“It would appear you're not listening very well yourself Mr Doyle. I think we previously established that you haven't fired us, you've merely sent us.....”
“I don’t care, alright!”
“Now that’s not a very professional attitude Mr Doyle.” Brick risked an actual punch.
“And sleeping in the skips is Mr Wall?”
“I’d like to reiterate that they were purely cardboard skips. Such material, in such quantity, makes a more than suitable mattress.” Brick felt this somehow justified his daily naps amongst the rubbish.
“If it’s going in the bin what does it matter if it ends up in my mouth instead?” Spiritwind wished to raise a legal point.
“Because it’s the rules.” Mr Doyle added bewilderment to his rage.
“Sometimes Mr Doyle we have to question the intention behind the rule before blindly following it. The rule is never our master but merely the messenger to keep us from harm. Should we not be free to interpret that message in any way we see fit?” Brick verbally offered his chin to the waiting fist, of his ex-boss.
Mr Doyle could hardly speak as his face contorted through various emotions, all negative and rooted in inflicting pain on the duo. “Interpret……why…..what……Get out.” He settled on removing them from his sight instead of risking a lengthy prison term.
“I think I’ve proved my point. Come on Spiritwind. Let’s leave Mr Doyle to contemplate the message we’ve brought him.” The pair rose and left the office, waving goodbye as they went. The door closed behind them to the sound of several pens striking the other side, followed by a gentle weeping.
Mr Doyle sat in his office with his head in his hands for the remainder of the morning; gibbering various insults and re-enacting the violence he wished to inflict upon the pair he’d let go. Had somebody told him the duo had in fact saved the Earth from invading aliens only a week hence he would probably have thrown that person out of his office too, but it was the truth.
Unrecognised and ridiculed rather than believed, Brick and Spiritwind had found themselves in the same situation as before their adventure. With bills to pay they had returned to their temping agency for work. It was the second job they’d lost in a week. Not that they let it get them down. Instead they wandered through the streets of Puddleton in the general direction of home, pondering their options.
“So what should we do with this unexpected day of freedom?” Brick revelled in the return of his own clothes to his tall yet slender frame. The rigid uniform of capitalist oppression had been choking the very freedom from his soul, and making his legs itch a little.
“Perhaps we should knock on at They’s house. See if he can offer any inspiration.” Spiritwind took another slice of gateaux from nowhere in particular.
“Sounds like we have a plan.”
The pair strolled aimlessly towards They’s house, discussing the world with a wisdom no scholar was interested in. The weather became a brief focus. The winter nip had increased. Not enough to force Brick to add an extra layer of clothing to his cardigan, or Spiritwind to his T-shirt, but its presence was noted. Soon the daylight would grow shorter as the sun spent more of its time shining on the other side of the globe.
Arriving at They’s house Brick depressed the doorbell and awaited their host. They worked as one of the concepts that came with the Earth franchise. His duties were to spread myths and rumours around the world, ensuring humans always had something to talk about. After being involved in Brick and Spiritwind’s previous success the trio had formed a bond that could easily be fashioned into friendship. They, opened the door and offered his usual warm but slightly preoccupied welcome.
“Morning. Come in, come in. I thought you were working today?” He didn’t await the answer, strolling towards the living room backwards in order to maintain eye-contact. Thoughts could be seen dashing across his face. “Fate’s here; popped round for some cake and a chat.” They continued to rub his head in the hope it would remind him where he was up to with whatever he'd been thinking about. The human duo followed, although Spiritwind lagged behind. They’s hallway was lined floor to ceiling with books, a decorative theme that ran throughout the house. Spiritwind scanned the shelves while Brick entered the hub of the home to fulfil the social duties. He answered They's work based query as he entered the lounge.
“We’ve been sent back to our agency in a thoroughly disapproving manner.” Brick still refused to label their departure as being sacked. “Morning, Fate.”
“You disapprove of the manner you’ve been sent back in?” They attempted to clear up the ambiguity.
“No. Although now you mention it yes. Our boss disapproved of our behaviour.” Brick took the empty armchair as his seat,
leaving They on his favourite thinking chair and Fate on one end of the sofa.
“So you were sacked?” Fate risked Brick’s ire.
“Technically only the agency can sack us. Let’s just say we no longer work at Squintock’s emporium. How’s Karma? Still fallen out?”
“No. We’re fine. Why? What have you heard?” Karma was Fate’s girlfriend and had a notoriously fickle mood. Her often forays in to anger were usually blamed on Fate; his obliviousness as to why was never ample defence.
“Nothing, it's just last time we spoke you seemed to be having a disagreement. Anyway how have you been? We’ve not spoke for ages.”
“We were at the same party two days ago. We spoke for a good twenty minutes about nothing in particular.” Fate ran Karma’s mood through his mind. He felt sure everything had been okay that morning.
“Were you at that party? I’m a bit blank on it. I remember turning up, and falling down the steps on the way out, but everything in between is gone.”
“It was at my house.”
“Oh.”
“Can I borrow this?” Spiritwind appeared around the doorframe. He was holding a book titled ‘All the Things That Spin', and aiming his question at They; who still looked confused.
“Of course. It’s good. Key to the universe is in there.”
“You said that about ‘Ponies that Smoke.’ Morning, Fate. Karma still in a mood?”
“No. Why does….Morning.” Fate gave up and checked his phone for any messages.
“Obviously Ponies that Smoke is a bit more subtle about revealing the key to the universe but it’s in there, or am I thinking of ‘Horses that Don’t?"
Spiritwind sat on the other end of the settee. Fate distracted himself from anything Karma based, delving further into the pair's morning. “So why were you sent back to your agency in a thoroughly disapproving manner?”
“For exercising our rights to the basic needs of man. Honestly, when the corporations stranglehold on our very liberty grows so strong it is surely time….”
“Did you go to sleep when you should have been working?” Fate interpreted the rant to perfection.
“That is how the fat cats chose to label my contemplation time.”
“And did you eat some of the stock?” Fate turned to the bald companion.
“Eummpghh,” It was the only noise that could escape past the final piece of liberated gateaux.
“How’s the hero life then?” Fate moved the topic of conversation along. He could see Brick had a pointless rant brewing. It was diverted seamlessly.
“Marvellous. Except I can only gloat to Spiritwind and he doesn’t care.”
“I don’t.” The gateaux had gone. Only crumbs were evidence it had ever existed.
“I keep telling people but they don’t believe me. One girl phoned the police. Is it that ridiculous to think we saved the world?” Fate dodged the question and offered advice instead.
“The true reward of heroics lies in the satisfaction you feel, not the glory others heap on to you.”
“I’m satisfied. I’d just like to be satisfied with a pile of cash and a few ladies to go with it.” Brick began scouring They’s shelves as he sat. They were impossible to ignore, and even harder not to be drawn in to.
“Or even this month’s rent and an alluring glance from the girl on the till at Allsorts' Bazaar.” Spiritwind tailored his ambitions nearer the achievable.
“That reminds me. I took a look at the note you gave me.” Fate aimed his sentence at Brick. It was the first Brick had heard of it. “The note you gave me at the party.”
“Oh the note.” Brick felt obliged to play along, all the time panicking. He’d been working on an elaborate pulling technique involving a note. He hoped he hadn’t implemented it at the party in question.
“You told me you’d lost it.” Spiritwind joined in. Brick was still unsure which note was in question. He searched for further information under the guise of manners.
“Don’t interrupt Fate while he's talking. I apologise for my eager friend. Carry on with the words you were using.”
Fate expressed his own confusion. He hadn’t even been about to talk. He was busy removing the note from his pocket. As the metallic envelope came into view Brick felt relief. It was the note the duo had received in the post upon returning home after saving the Earth.
“So you’ve heard of the Heroic Guild?” Spiritwind spoke. Brick wondered what had happened to his other note. A memory of a disappointed girl holding a piece of paper appeared in his mind, offering no clue as to when it may have been. Brick tried to remember the last time he'd attended a Calypso party. The girl's grass skirt had no other explanation.
“Everyone who knows anything about the wider universe knows about The Heroic Guild of all Things Heroic and Splendid. Only thing is it didn’t say what you said it did, Brick.”
Brick nodded, nonchalantly masking his panic. “Remind me what I said it said again?” Maybe he had passed Fate his chat up note after all. Being aware of the power it held Brick feared Fate was about to declare his undying love. Karma would hate him and he’d be stuck with a boyfriend. Brick didn’t even want a heavy relationship never mind the love of somebody from a gender he didn’t fancy.
“You said it was a welcoming note from The Guild.”
“And what does it actually say?” Brick tensed as he awaited the end of his days of chasing women. With no knee caps and a jealous boyfriend he could never flirt unsuccessfully with random ladies again.
“I’ll read it shall I?” Fate opened the envelope and poured the silken puddle in to his waiting hand. The information trickled like the purest spring. Brick curled up wondering why Fate would want to publicly humiliate him in such a way? “It says:
Dear Mr Jones and Mr Wall
An urgent gathering has been called for all grade one heroes and above. The assembly will take place on Velos 19 in the Plotlinius system in the Galaxy of Intertextuality. Your universe needs you and your heroic powers more than ever before. If you require transport press the small box below, next to the phrase ‘I need transport to Velos 19 for the urgent gathering’. We will contact you with further details soon.
Yours
Irish Delirium
“Well that isn’t half as romantic as I remember writing it.” Brick emerged from his position, confused but warming to the idea of growing old with Fate.
“Who’s Irish Delirium?” Spiritwind ignored Brick and followed his own line of questioning. They answered in his inimitable style.
“Irish Delirium is a legend, a myth, an ideal. More than a collection of atoms strung together in the shape of a mountain of a man. Irish is the only breathing being to hold the highest achievable grade of hero: grade five. He leads the Hero's Guild from the front with the experience of a man who has seen tyranny at its worst, once single-handedly saving the universe from the efforts of Verros Flexx.” Fate nodded in agreement, an expression of pride on his face.
“So we’re not in love?” Brick slowly realised something else was going on and maybe he should stop thinking of themed table centres for a gala wedding. Only puzzled looks returned in his direction. Spiritwind took the note and read it again, then spoke.
“Are we definitely grade-one heroes?” Spiritwind double checked the entry requirements; he didn’t want a repeat of the whole university fiasco.
“It’s the standard reward for saving your own planet.” Fate still looked proud, and a little worried at Brick’s confused staring.
“Fancy an adventure?” Spiritwind turned to Brick. The query snapped him out of his daydream.
“Always.”
“I guess we’re going then.” Spiritwind requested a lift with a flourish.
“Sorry. What are we doing?” Brick felt he’d definitely missed something important.
“We’re off on a mission to save the universe.”
“You know it could be dangerous.” Fate felt obliged to offer some warning.
“How dangerous can
it be on a planet full of heroes? All we have to do is show our faces at the right times and places, look a little busy, and everyone will get on with the real heroics around us.” Spiritwind applied the pair’s work ethic.
“Leaving us free to talk to the lady heroes. There will be lady heroes won’t there?” Brick was over his brief foray into the world of homosexuality.
“I’d expect so.” Fate didn’t see why not.
“They are in for a treat.” Brick settled into his mind, imagining himself at the centre of various laser battles, demonstrating gymnastic skills that came naturally in the heat of battle. Spiritwind imagined the cake they’d get to celebrate saving the universe. Fate decided to give Karma a quick ring to check things were really okay, and They finally remembered what he’d been trying to remember, but could no longer recall why he needed to know it. It was a room of intrigue in a multitude of forms.
Contents