So...Ella and Me are writing a story for you all this Christmas. We're both main characters because we love ourselves. More will be on the way in the coming week. Enjoy, and Happy Christmas. It was snowing in the future, on Jesnailsmas Eve. It was snowing in that fluffy, gentle way that it always does in such quiet, tranquil scenes, before exciting things start to happen. There was an immensely black fortress-like building, a huge, obtrusive block of a thing with lots of decorative sharp and pointy bits reaching towards the heavens on its sides. It was almost blasphemous in a day and age where the smooth, the sleek and the silver were all the rage. But, as Emperor Chrisbot, currently seated in the topmost part of the fortress upon a mighty beanbag, happened to rule the world, there wasn’t much anybody could do about it. Emperor Chrisbot’s much feared and revered emblem was the Baked Bean, something that he had used to ruin people’s lives since the days of his early campaigns, when he had eventually triggered the complete destruction of the global supercompany Heinz. It had been a stroke of genius on his part, opening up a corporate wormhole for the worldwide economy to plummet into. With that in his control, the rest of the world was easy. Not that people were all that fussed. Most of them got to keep their jobs and continue living their lives as they had been doing, while Chrisbot, having reached the peak of his power and not wanting to go down the same route as previous evil overlords, tried to think of a fresh and creative way to make everybody miserable. It had only been the wealthy corporate masterminds who had lost out, now imprisoned in the Vault of Former Billionaires. Many even approved of the Baked Bean, for it was smooth and rounded in design. Chrisbot climbed out of the comfy depths of his beanbag with some effort. He readjusted his eyepatch and made his way to a large table in the centre of his stone-walled room, limping slightly due to his faulty cybernetic leg. He lit a candelabrum, placing at the table’s edge and allowing him to see the map of his latest diabolical plan. This most recent campaign needed only the invention of the time machine, which he optimistically expected to happen any day now, so that he could go back and prevent the existence of the only power that still challenged him, and the only individual who was worshipped as much as he was by the largely indifferent population: Jesnails. Of course, she hadn’t stepped foot on this earth for thousands of years, but she was still present... still a threat. Chrisbot picked up a stick that had been propped up against a table leg and used it to push small figures across the map, which consisted mainly of fields. Two of the figures, he and a loyal servant disguised as shepherds, cruised across the fields to where the target and her guardians lay: a small stable in the very centre of the map. He had the sudden urge to laugh maniacally. ‘DOWN WITH BEANS! WE HATE BEANS! SOD YOUR BEANS! YOUR BEANS SUCK BEANS!’ came a voice from outside. Chrisbot limped towards the window. A robin was happily hopping about on its sill. He peered down and could make out a girl marching around in circles at the base of the fortress, holding up a banner of his beloved Baked Bean with a line through it. Her voice was amplified by some invisible technological witchcraft. He sighed and retrieved a pen and some paper from about his person. He scribbled something, rolled up the paper and attached it to the robin’s leg with an elastic band. ‘Fly, feathered messenger!’ he commanded, throwing the robin out into the air. The robin dropped like a stone, bouncing neatly off the girl’s head. Toaf, for that was the girl’s name, detached the paper, threw the robin to one side, unfurled the note and read it. ‘Be gone, considerable annoyance!’ it said. ‘Eschew!’ Toaf scowled and looked up at his window. ‘YOU RUINED MY LIFE!’ she cried. ‘YOU AND ALL YOUR WRETCHED BEANS! YOU HAVE DESTROYED EVERY POTENTIALLY BEAUTIFUL MOMENT OF MY EXISTENCE! I HATE YOU! WITH A PASSION!’ Chrisbot turned to his servants, who stood hidden in the shadows. ‘Have the guards silence her,’ he said. Then, remembering his quest to be original, he added, ‘Give her a partybag or something.’ One of the servants departed. Chrisbot hobbled back to the table, muttering under his breath. ‘Poor guy,’ one of the two remaining servants whispered to the other. ‘He just hasn’t been the same since the unfortunate incident with the marmalade and the lightbulb.’ And although he didn’t yet know it, his time-travelling idea may have come too late. Things were about to happen. * * * The snow fell softly from the sky, landing with a puff on the grass. Robins darted around purposelessly, sometimes landing on the handles of spades left sticking out of the ground seemingly for the purpose of becoming living clichés. The sky was pure white. Eight year old Tiny Tephlon stared out at the monochromatic landscape with longing in his eyes. How he wished he was out there! Making snowballs, writing his name in the snow, skating around on the ol' frozen lake... Tiny Tephlon's parents sighed at the sight of their son with his nose pressed against the window. Dad walked over and crouched down next to him. 'I'm sorry son. The ice is too thin for skating. It's barely frozen over at all.' Tiny Tephlon's lower lip trembled. Dad stared into his huge watery eyes and sighed unhappily. 'Maybe... maybe tomorrow, son. Maybe tomorrow.' The truth was, the inhabitants of Little Pigglington hadn't been able to take advantage of their lake for a very long time. Chrisbot's tyrannical regime was taking its toll on everything from the law to the environment. His preferred foodstuff was now a mandatory dietary requirement in every home across the empire. Unfortunately, there are certain nasally detectable consequences to a whole country of people eating baked beans every single day. The staggering increase in methane ripped its way through the ozone layer with ease; global warming meant iced lakes were a thing of the past. Tiny Tephlon turned back to his vigil from the window. Dad got up and went to light another candle; they had electric lighting, but in moments like this he felt it just wasn't ambient enough. No. What he really needed right now was a gas lamp, an adjustable one which could provide several different types of lighting for any situation... His musings were interrupted by a shout from his son. 'DAD! DAD! There's someone by the lake Dad! It's a ghost, Dad!' Dad frowned and walked over to the window. Indeed there was a solitary figure standing by the lake, and indeed, it did look a bit like a ghost. The figure seemed to emit an ethereal glow from its very person. Doors were opening all along the roadside as others noticed the figure. Dad picked up his son and walked outside. The figure stood perfectly still on the other side of the lake. Tephlon thought it looked female, and less like a ghost than an angel. She had some kind of soft halo outlined by the spooky light. The villagers peered across the lake curiously. 'I!' she said suddenly, making everybody jump in fright, 'am Jesnails.' She threw her arms out dramatically. The effect was spoiled slightly by the fact her eldritch aura was flickering slightly. She noticed this and reached around behind her, turning slightly in the process, in order to switch off what was revealed to be a torch strapped to her back. Her halo was exposed as an impressively prominent afro. Still, nearly everybody screamed or gasped ungracefully, apart from the geeks who had actually previously considered how to react at the Second Coming, and who hurriedly arranged their faces into realistic-skeptic-yet-open-minded-intellectual mode. Jesnails ignored them and raised a hand in a greeting. 'Word up homies,' she drawled. 'Whatcha doing over there, man? It's been thousands of years, yo! Come give a brutha some love!' Tephlon jumped down out of his fathers arms and walked to the edge of the lake. 'We can't get over there, Miss Holy Lady... The lake isn't frozen!' Jesnails looked slightly put out by this news. The villagers watched her anxiously. Some of the more traditional people knelt down in the snow and assumed a traditional pose of worship. Despite this there was an air of uneasy confusion over the crowd. Not even the geeks who had actually practiced for this day expected anything quite so informal as 'Yo.' Jesnails chewed a fingernail. 'Righto dudes. I'll have to go to you then.' The villagers watched her walk backwards a few feet. Suddenly, she raised a hand into the air. There were some hurried mutterings about blessings from the know-it-all's in the crowd. However, Tiny Tephlon, who was closest to her, knew what she had in her hand, and he had never heard of any deity performing blessings with a remote control. 'HIT IT!' Holy music blared from a bush at the side of the lake. Tiny Tephlon recognised it as the Most Holy Anthem of Disco, from the much-revered classic film of all time - 'Saturday Night Fever'. Jesnails leapt through the air soared towards the lake. 'She's mad!' a blasphemous old man shouted over the music. 'She'll never make it to the other side of the lake!' Tiny Tephlon ignored him and watched Jesnails land on the lake and spin around in a graceful pirouette. She slid along the lake on her knees, and performed the funky robot before launching herself into an impromptu breakdance. Non-believers believed. Believers believed even more. Those who had already prostrated themselves across the ground were at a loss of how to show yet more awe and reverence, and cursed themselves for using their best moves too early in the game. The children cheered loudly. As the hymn ended, Jesnails rotated slightly and finished her dance routine with an expert moonwalk before calling 'Check ya on the flip side y'all...' And she was gone. Everybody stared at the spot on the lake she had so abruptly vanished from. Nobody spoke. Then Tiny Tephlon stepped forwards. 'We can stand on the lake! It's a miracle!' All the children rushed forwards and yelled in delight. The adults stood by, smiling contentedly, and watched their kiddies playing on the dangerously thin ice of the lake. Tiny Tephlon's dad put his arm around his wife. 'It's a Christmas Miracle, darling,' he simpered. His wife looked slightly uneasy. 'Darling, did I really just see the manifestation of Jesnails dance on the lake with tennis racquets tied to her feet, and a torch stuck to her back?' Sadly, her question remained unanswered, as the ice chose that precise moment to cave in after the groovy assault of jiving it had received moments earlier. Most of the kids survived. * * *
Hey, is this the first boardfic that has actually been started on this Board? Also: More. I mean: More!
'Where the hell is Kenny?' Garner muttered. Grace sighed. 'Relax honey. It's only... ' - she consulted her watch - 'bean past pea.' She scowled at her watch. 'I fucking hate this new time system! Damn that Chrisbot to hell!' Garner looked scandalised and quickly beaned himself. 'In the name of the Green, the Runner and the Holy Baked, Amen,' he mumbled. 'Don't blaspheme, darling,' he chastised nervously. 'Chrisbot may be watching us.' 'Well.' Grace huffed sulkily, pointing at a large, bean-adorned clock behind her. 'Just look what it did to Big Ben.' 'GRACE!' Garner snapped. 'Big Ben is a sexist, sizeist term.' Grace sighed wearily. She was so sick and tired of all the over-the-top political correctness. To stop anyone being offended, Jesnailsmas lights had recently been renamed 'happylights' in public. Oddly enough, it wasn't Chrisbot's doing, either. 'Of course I meant Proportional B, dear,' she said. Their bickering was interrupted by a group of men trying their hardest to look shifty. Two of them wore a red carnation in their buttonholes. The third, who didn't appear to have understood the concept, had opted for a more stylish pink tulip. They were conferring together and shooting very obvious glances in Grace and Garner's direction. Grace nodded at her husband and said importantly 'I'll affirm their identities with the Sign, and the Password.' She sidled over to them. She raised her hand and placed it conpicuously on top of her head. The men stared at her. 'Password?' 'Er... the shaded albatross unclips the dusk from Australian roads,' one replied. There was a short silence. Grace turned to the man with the pink tulip, who repeated the password dutifully. The last man seemed to be staring gormlessly at some inner vision. Grace prodded him with the spout of her teapot. He gave a start. 'Monkeys!' Grace sighed. 'I'm sure that giving Rinso his own password completely defeats the point. Ben, Dale, Garner's over there.' They walked back over to Garner, who was talking to an irritable looking Doors. He turned towards them as they approached. 'Kenny just texted me, he's going to be late. Apparently some ninja thugs painted his car pink in the night. Now he's refusing to drive it.' 'My car's pink!' Dale said enthusiastically. Ben glared at him. 'It's so bright, it blinds the eyes of other drivers!' he snapped. 'It could cause a MASSIVE ACCIDENT! I'm sure it violates some rules of the Hovercar Highway Code. I don't know why people stand for it myself. Pink hovercars, what next? Let people get away with that and who knows...' He continued to grumble under his breath for several minutes as the party walked down Milkbean Street, through Bean Square and into the round, silver Sugar Snap Café. Everyone ordered the lunchtime special, which was coffee pizza and bean juice, and sat down at a round silver table. Grace cleared her throat. 'So, the second annual meeting of the DMC Brotherhood is now in session. What shall we do now?' Garner frowned. 'Grace, "Brotherhood" is not politically correct. It's dismissive of women.' Grace sighed. 'As the only woman here, I give you repressive male bastards permission to use it.' Garner scowled. Grace rolled her eyes. 'Fine! Fine! We are now the DMC Siblinghood. Is that better?' She took the uncharacteristic silence as affirmation, and plunged on, lest they still be in the Sugar Snap at string o'clock (nee: 11pm). 'Anyone fancy the Chav Museum?' Garner shrugged. Dale nodded eagerly. Doors glared through lowered eyelids at his phone, which had just announced loudly the arrival of another text from Kenny. Rinso was preoccupied staring at his reflection in the back of a spoon as he tried to see what he looked like with two packets of sugar jammed up his nose. Ben looked thoughtful. Grace watched him apprehensively. 'I can see no immediate problems with this...' 'Great!' Grace blurted, before Ben found a few reasons why a visit to the Chav Museum would bring about the end of the world. 'Ancient History is so interesting!' Doors snorted. 'You know what else is interesting? Kenny's had his car repainted and managed to get out of his garage.' Dale gasped. 'But he's still running late.' He passed the phone to Garner, who stared at the message with his mouth open. He looked up at Doors with an incredulous look on his face. 'But how the hell did he manage to get to France!?' * * * The Chav Museum was a round, silver building in Poddington Road. At this time of day it was packed with tourists and sightseers, all eager to learn of the mysteries of this intriguing creature of the past. Now sadly extinct, the chav had quickly become something of a phenomenon in these stylishly futuristic days. Thick gold chains hung behind thick sheets of breakproof glass. Checked trousers, jackets and hats were arranged on lifelike models of chavs, made and dressed by expert chavologists. To complete the experience, chav music was piped in to give the tourists that feeling that they really were all the way back in the year 2005. Dale wiggled his hips along to a dance remix of something that was dreadful in the first place. 'These people must really have known how to dance!' he called over to Ben, who stared intently at a display of 'bling' and tried his hardest to act like he didn't know who Dale was. Rinso and Grace appeared. Rinso was fiddling with a lead pipe he'd just bought from the gift shop. 'Apparently it's just like the ones they used to use to like, break windows and stuff!' He mimed the smashing of a window, then leapt around in the imaginary broken glass. Grace called them together. 'Guys, we've got dinner booked at the Le Ha soon. I think we should leave when Garner and Doors are done in the interactive chavmobile.' They proceeded down through Ye Olde Crack Alley to the Interactive Experience, where Garner and Doors were busy spitting onto a virtual pavement and stealing virtual tyres. When they emerged, Doors regaled the party with tales of his loud music to speed ratio, while Garner lagged behind, glowering. 'Stupid bloody game if you ask me,' he muttered angrily. Dale patted him on the arm sympathetically. * * * The Le Ha restaurant was a place that couldn't decide whether it was going to be extremely classy and continental, or extremely Jesnailsmassy. It had therefore attempted both, resulting in something that was cataclysmic to the brain. Ba was seated at a red and white checkered table, wondering what was taking the others so long. A waiter with slicked-back hair and a silly little moustache sidled up to the table. 'Bon day!' he announced. 'I am le Hermes! Qu'est-ce que voulezvavavoomvous, mon customeur?' 'Ba is waiting for his associates,' said Ba, considering the waiter barely worth a glance. But somethimg made him doubletake. 'Why is the foolish servant dressed like an elf?!' he demanded. 'Pourquoi? Mon customeur, c'est le time for Jesnailsmasss! C'est festive! C'est jolleee! C'est--' 'Silence!' 'C'est ne silence pas!' 'Ba demands that you refrain!' Le Hermes gasped. 'Mon croissant to you, mon customeur!' he shrieked, hurrying away with his elf-bells jingling. 'Ah, there he is,' said Garner. 'Ba, why didn't you meet up with us?' 'Ba does not like museums.' 'I don't blame you,' said Garner. 'It's downright disrespectful to those existentially challenged. I mean, to... to make an exhibition out of them...' 'Shut up,' said Grace. 'Let's order. The sooner we leave this place, the better.' She looked around with disgust at the festive décor, hugging her teapot. 'It makes my eyes hurt.' 'Now now, dear, don't be rude,' said Garner. 'But yes, ordering sounds like a very good idea indeed.' 'Kenny's just texted me again,' said Doors. 'He'll be a bit delayed again. He says he's become disillusioned with European politics and is running for French President, but that we should order something for him because he'll be here as soon as he can.' * * * Rinso was contemplating the unusual taste still lingering in his mouth as they left the restaurant. 'So what actually is poisson fromage yule log?' He paused. 'And weren't there more of us before?' There was a blood-curdling scream from back inside. Le Hermes suddenly burst through the doors. 'LES MURDEREURS!' he screamed. 'MUUUURRRDERRRREEEEEEUUUUURRRS!!' Ben raised his eyebrows. He should have expected as much. But which of them was it? He surveyed the group. They all looked mightily suspicious. Was it Rinso, clutching the slightly bent-out-of-shape spoon? Was it Dale with the poison-tipped pink tulip? Was it Doors with the gas-filled sporran? Or was it Ba with his inherent hatred of humanity and the lead pipe he had stolen from Rinso? The many possible scenarios ran through his mind as he clutched at the hilt of his concealed katana, ready to defend himself if things got any uglier. One thing was certain, however. 'THE WORLD IS GOING TO END!!!' * * * Small kids toddled around the room, trying to pull the decorations down and having tantrums when Mynona, who was trying to keep them all under control, rushed over to stop them. 'No!' she shouted. 'Leave the overly tall and heavy-with-baubles Jesnailsmas tree alone!' The child this was directed at turned around and glared at her, before resuming his tugging. 'Gah! Right, enough! Orange juice time!' She handed out beakers in an attempt to calm them all down. She didn't notice the juice's slightly odd colour. The kids slurped away at their drinks, and Mynona took this opportunity to collapse onto a chair and reflect on life and her plans for the holidays. Maybe she'd go skiing... 'Wassup, babizzles!' She looked up. As if from nowhere, a greatly-afro'd apparition had appeared before her. 'I's turned all yo' juice into alcohizzle, dudes!' 'What?' 'May y'all be merry! Ya dig?' The kids started to giggle. One fell over. 'Oh God no...' * * * Obob McGlory stood behind his white lecturn, grasping its sloping sides and leaning forwards. 'I know some of you out there are sceptics,' he said, his face set into an expression of determined conquest, 'but I believe we may have the return of Jesnails on our hands.' His hair was snowy white, big, and vaguely omega-shaped. He wore a suit of the same colour, dazzlingly bright. His eyes were pale grey. Behind him was a studio-built home, various religious ornaments displayed prominently. 'I have been told,' he continued, 'and I feel it in my very bones - no, in fact, the very souls of my very bones - that miracles have been a-happening!' He pulled back and stared emotionally at the camera, giving what he had just said time to sink in. 'They say she walked upon dangerously thin ice and that it did not break, and I say this is true!' he cried. 'They say she turned orange juice into fine alcoholic beverage, and, by the Big G, I say this is also true!' He felt the world hanging on his every word. He felt the world on the brink of religious revolution. Finally, a challenge to the loathéd Bean! 'Er... and I say... I say REJOICE!!' * * * Emperor Chrisbot did not rejoice. Neither did most people, being their usual indifferent selves, but Chrisbot's refusal to rejoice was stronger and more pertinent. He slammed his fist into a big, black button on the wall and yelled into the speaker right by it. 'I want Jesnails stopped immediately!' he commanded, his voice echoing around and about the fortress. 'She must be destroyed! COMMENCE OPERATION REDSUIT!' Outside, two passers-by looked up at the fortress, wondering what had happened now. 'That dictator has some serious problems,' said one of them. 'He wasn't always like that, apparently,' the other told him. 'They say it all started with an unfortunate incident involving an inexperienced pyrotechnician and a refrigerator.' * * *
The shopping precinct was strangely deserted. Jingly music could be heard in the background and festive decorations and lights were aplenty, but there was no one in sight. Until Jesnails entered through the roof, floating down like a messianic feather with a rope tied discreetly around her waste. Due to a slight miscalculation, she was upside down. Her hair, however, allowed her to touch the ground quite comfortably. She rolled over onto her feet, removed the rope from her person and looked around. She was in a great, shiny-floored open space with shops lining the walls. There appeared to be absolutely nobody with whom to spread her name. She considered this for a moment. It probably forebode something. 'Fo' shizzle,' she said aloud. * * * An old, decrepit memory of days gone by thundered down the street, its engines growling and snarling. It was a caravan of begrimed red trucks, their huge, archaic, ungodly wheels churning and sludging the snow beneath. Their exhausts spat and spluttered like phlegm-filled coughs, leaving a trail of vaguely marbled liquid on the ground. All things electronic in nearby buildings flickered and short-circuited as they passed. Happylights exploded. The trucks left in their wake fear and darkness. On the back of the rearmost truck was a hologram of Santa. He was tapping the palm of his left hand with a broken bottle, which he held in his right. He didn't look very jolly at all. Sparks flew as they suddenly slammed down the brakes, sliding on the ice and spinning around, finally grinding to a halt in a haphazard sprawl. The doors were flung outwards and the backs opened up, and lots and lots of men in padded red Santa costumes climbed out. * * * In the centre of the open space were three cylindrical tubes, each containing an elevator. Jesnails turned to them as they lit up electric blue. They were being operated. She walked slowly towards them, stood several metres in front of the middle one, and waited. The first to arrive at the top was the one on the left, followed almost immediately by the one on the right, and then the one in the centre. Seeing three menacing-looking Santas in a row through the transparent doors, Jesnails knew that it was time to pound some padded backside. The doors opened with a ping. 'Yo, biatches,' she said. She kicked out at the centre Santa, who fell backwards, hitting the control panel on his way down and causing the elevator to plummet. The Santa on her left cried out and jumped onto her back. She span around, trying to throw him off as his mittened hands closed around her throat. She leapt into the air, diving so that the Santa hit the ground first. When she got up, half a dozen fake Santas were now waiting for her. She launched herself at them, punching the first right between the eyes and catching the side of another's head with her elbow. She dropped to the floor to avoid a vicious swipe, and swept the attacker off his feet with a capoeira-style strike, cracking his nuts with a sharp kick. The elevators pinged as more foes arrived. Jesnails started to work faster, sending Santas cartwheeling in the air with head-height kicks and stumbling into each other as she smashed into their soft chests with palms of power. She hadn't noticed the rows of elevators lining the walls on either side of the floor. Now they were glowing blue, too. Whole waves of Santas started pouring forth. Jesnails was becoming overwhelmed. She was slapping a Santa silly when three more suddenly came up behind her, lifted her up and sent her flying through a shop window. The masses of Santas watched, waiting to see if they'd done the deed. Several readjusted their padding and beards. Then she reappeared, fragments of broken glass glittering in her clothes and afro. She strolled forwards with her hands behind her back. The Santas, angered by her refusal to be dead, advanced with refreshed vigour. Then Jesnails revealed what she had been hiding, whipping something long and metallic from behind her back and swinging it up into the air. 'Check out my polizzle!' The nearest aggressor got clonked on the head. The rest slowed and stood back, watching her newly improvised weapon apprehensively as she span it around in her hands, making whirring noises as it sliced through the air. 'I rizzles yo' asses, dawgs!' The Santas dared to attack and got every which way clonked as the first had, Jesnails deftly twirling the pole around her person like a drum major's baton. 'PILE ON!!' yelled one of the Santas. In a final act of desperation, the fake Santas piled on top of her. She tried to fend them off, but there were just too many of them. She struggled for oxygen as the padding of the Santa suits started to suffocate her. She fumbled around for her last means of defence and found it: a tiny button protected by a small plastic case attached to her belt. She managed to lift the case, and pressed her thumb firmly down on the button. A great pulse of electricity shot through the building. She grimaced as it passed through her, but her afro managed to absorb most of it. The fake Santas fell away as it tore through them. Jesnails got up, grabbed the pole and smashed a window with it before jumping from the building, hundreds of feet above the ground. The shock of electricity hit the elevators, causing them to explode. Fire ripped through the elevator shafts along the whole length of the shopping precinct. Jesnails' parachute opened up and she drifted away from the building as the whole thing combusted and collapsed. 'Damn straight,' she said. * * *
'ORDER! ORDER!' The low murmur of chat that had been buzzing around the courtroom dropped immediately at the command of the formidable looking female judge. The Right Honourable Lady Justice Avgi peered down sternly at the faces in front of her, turning her gaze from person to person in turn, eyebrows narrowed menacingly, and let the silence grow. 'We are here today to find the murderer of a Mr. Garner. Mr. Garner was murdered. MURDERED. Killed - killed DEAD! - by a person in this very room! Whomever it was will NOT get away with it!' She slammed her hammer down to emphasise her point, then slammed it down again to reinforce the emphaticness with which she emphasised her point. Miss O. Kranti, the defending lawyer, leaned towards her clients. 'She always does this,' she whispered wearily. 'Third hammer this month. She hit me with it once. Said I was daydreaming. I wasn't! I was thinking about cheese.' 'KRANTI!' Avgi bellowed. 'SHUT UP!' Kranti sat back in her chair, glaring mulishly at the judge. When Avgi turned away, she stuck her fingers up at her. 'Bring in the ... people ... who, er, have been, um, accused! The Accused! Yes. Bring them in!' Avgi yelled irritably. Ben raised a hand. 'Er, we're already here, your honour. Been here for ages.' The others nodded. 'You were late,' he added petulantly. Avgi scowled. 'Bloody people in this town, always wanting justice. Can't drive down the road without getting stopped. "Oh Lady Justice, a man stole my hat! Oh, Lady Justice, an alien killed my dog!" Well, what the fuck am I supposed to do about that? Reincarnate it? Send the alien to prison!? I'M ONLY HUMAN!' The attendees waited patiently for her to finish ranting. Eight minutes and one new hammer later, when she had concluded her tirade, Rinso stood up and clapped. Kranti dragged him back down into his seat. Lady Justice Avgi really didn't suffer fools very well. 'So, anyway,' she snarled bad temperedly. 'Whodunnit?' Everybody looked round at everybody else. A few people stared at the ceiling. There was a muttered chorus of 'wasn't me'. Avgi rolled her eyes. 'You!' she said, pointing at Ba. 'Your hair is on fire.' Ba remained cool in the face of her stare. 'Ba's hair is not on fire. Ba's hair is fire.' Avgi gestured with her hammer. 'Right, well, get up here then. You look like a murderer to me.' She turned to the jury. 'Convict him quick and I'll slip you all a tenner or something. I want to get home for my stories.' Dale sighed. 'Justice isn't what it used to be.' * * * Ba sat in the witness box with his hand on his chosen religious text of choice, The Book of Pie. Kranti tried to guide him through the oath. 'Now, repeat after me. I, Ba...' 'Ba, Ba...' 'No, no. I Ba...' 'Kranti, Ba...' 'No! You, I, Ba...' 'Ba does not understand...' Avgi smashed her hammer down so hard it exploded into a veritable firework of splinters. 'FORGET IT! Ba, you are accused of the murder of Mr Garner. Did you or did you not horribly, brutally, hideously, completely, utterly and totally hugely, kill Mr Garner?' Ba smirked and said nothing. Roman stood up. 'Ba is an evil fiend who proudly takes delight in hurting people and animals, and, in fact, anything which is capable of being hurt. Did he kill Garner? Mayhap! There are many reasons thereof. No, wait. Two 'there's. There are a multitude of reasons why he would do such a thing!' He paused. 'A Multitude!' he cried. 'Mult,' Rinso echoed. Ba's smirk turned into a leer as Roman went on, listing all the atrocities Ba had committed, or had been blamed of, in the past. By the end, he looked distinctly proud. Avgi rubbed her cheeks wearily. 'Ba, you're a right bastard. Down you go! I sentence you to...' Just as the hammer was about to fall, a shrill cry rang out through the courtroom. 'WAIT! YOU 'AVE ZE WRONG MAN!' Heads turned towards the intruder. Avgi let go of the hammer in surprise, and it sped through the air, making contact with Kranti's nose. She yelped. Nobody paid any attention. They were all staring at the man who had just entered the courtroom. Hermes the French waiter paused by the door, discreetly trying to get his breath back. 'Madames... Monsieurs... I 'ave 'ere in my 'and... zome EVIDANCE of anuzzeeeur persons geelt!' Avgi banged the desk with her hand impatiently. 'Talk English, man!' Hermes sighed. 'Fine, I'll drop the accent for a while, seeing as it's life and death and everything... But if anyone from Le Ha comes in here, I'm just putting on this English accent for your own convenience, alright?' He swaggered up the aisle with his chest puffed out importantly, and placed a tiny microchip in front of Avgi, who stared at it. 'This is our CCTV footage from the time of the murder. Well, it will be, once you put it on that screen thing over there.' Kranti rushed forward and put the microchip in the microDVD player. The screen crackled, and a blurry picture appeared on the screen, obstructed by a lot of static. Kranti fiddled with some knobs until the picture was clear. 'Ztep... I mean, step back, madame!' Hermes called. 'Everyone must see the evidence that shows that Ba is completely innocent!' There were chuckles at this ridiculous statement. Kranti walked away. Avgi got down off her pedestal and walked around to watch. Ba remained in his seat. His smug leer now looked a little pained. The image on the screen showed... Ba. Ba and somebody else. A woman. An elderly woman. There was a road... old fashioned land cars speeding past. Several women with a good sense of perception suddenly felt the need to turn away. Kranti covered her eyes. She felt she knew what was coming. However, she didn't. Instead of hearing the screech of tyres and the soft thud of a squashy body hitting a bumper at 70mph, she heard... gasps of amazement. 'He's helping her to cross the road...' Kranti's eyes flew open in disbelief. Sure enough, it was Ba on the screen, helping the woman cross the road safely. Kranti felt faint. 'Ba... why, Ba was merely feigning assistance!' Ba stammered from his seat. 'He was using the pretence as a method of installing a bomb into the old woman's pocket!' Kranti didn't know whether to be alarmed or relieved. Hermes flapped his arms around in agitation. 'There's more! Keep watching!' All heads turned back, this time to see Ba on the other side of the road, walking towards a group of small children. Nobody had any doubt about Ba's feelings towards children; namely, that they were better not seen, not heard, and not, in fact, breathing. Rinso hid behind Dale's back. Dale hid behind Doors' back. Doors punched Dale in the kidneys. Kranti couldn't take her eyes off the screen. Now it appeared to show Ba giving the children something. It wasn't sharp. It wasn't fiery. It was an apple. 'Poisoned, Ba assures you!' Ba yelled down, a note of hysteria in his voice. The audience were silent now. This was parallel universe territory. 'Oh, there's more,' Hermes whispered ominously. Kranti fanned herself with her notes. She didn't know how much more she could take. The jury had crowded around the screen. She could no longer see anything. She closed her eyes and tried to think about cheese. 'Stilton, cheddar, brie...' she muttered breathlessly. 'FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WHAT'S HE DOING TO THAT POOR KITTEN!?' Kranti abandoned her meditation, pushed her way through the crowd to the TV screen and stared, open mouthed, at the picture. 'Is he torturing it?' Dale quavered fearfully, eyes hidden behind his hands. 'No...' said Kranti quietly. 'No. He's stroking it.' 'Well?' demanded Avgi. 'Are you all stupid? Well, yes, undoubtedly, BUT. Isn't it obvious? The man's innocent! Q.E.D., case closed, die another day, nip tuck, schtum. Everybody go away.' 'But...' said Ben. 'But we haven't found out who the real murderer was!' 'Hakuna matata, it's not your responsibility, don't you worry your pathetic little head about it,' the Right Honourable Lady Justice Avgi said on her way out. * * * Grace was on the run. Murder wasn't something she had planned, but she had been pushed so far... A herd of reindeer stood up ahead. She cursed Jesnailsmas for its ridiculousness and plunged on, weaving her way through them. The teapot was still in her hands. To her unbelievable luck, she saw an old hovercar parked close by. The owner was talking to a friend just a few feet away, but she decided to risk it. She made her way towards it, her foot managing to get caught in the herd's reins. She cursed again and tried to shake it free while still running, pulling at it and triggering grumblings of complaint from the reindeer. She tried the car door. It was unlocked. She climbed in, placing the teapot on her lap, and glanced nervously in the direction of the owner. His friend was pointing at her with a look of alarm on his face. The owner turned and cried out, running towards her. She slammed the door shut, the reins still wrapped around her foot. She looked at the glowing dashboard. It was a very old car. It required a key, not a fingerprint. A key which he'd left in, the fool. She just hoped the ancient thing would go fast enough. She turned the key and hit the accelerator. She pulled the steering wheel back and the car lifted up into the air. The reindeer were somewhat startled as they started sliding helplessly across the ground before taking off. There were about a dozen of them in all, although the twelfth was in fact a wonderllama called Brad, wearing fake antlers. 'Put me down this instant or you'll be hearing from my lawyer!' he said. * * * Emperor Chrisbot was extending his wrath. If he couldn't get Jesnails, the least he could do was cause misery and dispair among those fools who chose to follow her. He walked down the street, wearing a long, black robe just for the occasion. Huge chasms had been opened up in the ground, endlessly deep, and people were running out of their shiny silver homes, screaming. 'Give me back my bloody Jesnailsmas tree!' one woman said, whacking one of Chrisbot's servants over the head with a shoe. The servant was not stopped, however, and proceeded to throw the tree down into the chasm. An orc-like creature hobbled up to Chrisbot. 'The trees are weighty, my Lord,' he said breathlessly. 'Their decorations are heavy.' Chrisbot glared at the creature. 'Rip them all down.' He paused. 'Oh, and activate the Ice Age Machine.' * * * Mal and Marcia were in the building of the great library. Marcia was standing in the long, high-roofed, black-marbled corridor outside the library itself, waiting for Mal to finish perusing the toilet facility. 'Come on, Mal!' she said. 'Just a sec!' came Mal's voice. Marcia sighed and leaned against the wall. She shivered and hugged herself. It was cold out here. Then she looked up. She thought she heard a strange noise. A...crackling, almost. She walked to the middle of the vast corridor and looked up and down it. Then she saw it: ice, spreading along the walls and across the ceiling and floor. 'Er...Mal?' she said, weakly. 'Hang on!' There was the sound of a fly being zipped up, and then of a toilet being flushed. 'Mal!' she shouted, starting to panic. The ice was rapidly approaching. The door opened. 'Yeah?' said Mal. 'RUN!' screamed Marcia, grabbing Mal by the arm and running down the corridor. Mal looked over his shoulder, bewildered. 'Oh dear...' They raced through the building, the ice chasing after them like a nightmare. They skidded on the marble as they turned corners, desperately trying to get away. They crashed shoulder-first into a set of heavy, wooden double doors, bursting through into the library. The librarian looked disapprovingly up over the rims of her half-moon spectacles. 'Ahem!' she said. 'No ice in the librar--'
* * * The entire city was covered in ice. There were no hovercars in the sky. Everyone was hiding in the warmth of their homes. Doors' phone bleeped as he received another text. He sighed. 'Guys, I don't think Kenny's going to be able to make it. He didn't win the election, so he was on his way back... and then something else happened.' 'What?' 'He drove into a wardrobe and found himself in another world.' The remainder of the DMC Siblinghood shook their heads in disbelief. 'Ba, what are you doing with all these fireworks?' asked Ben, as they watched him place the last one under a parked car. 'Ba is preparing to reclaim his former notoriety,' said Ba. 'Well, I hope you've read the safety instructions, at least.' 'Generally, fireworks are lit and then go bang. This is appropriate for Ba's task.' 'What is Ba's task, exactly?' asked Doors. 'Ba plans to blow up the city.' The group gasped collectively. 'Fireworks are so pretty,' said Dale. 'Exactly,' said Doors. 'Pretty. As far as the entire city goes, that's about all the impression they're going to make. Why don't you go back a step and use gunpowder?' 'A fright is all the inferiors need,' replied Ba. 'That doesn't sound very evil.' 'Doors, don't encourage him,' said Ben. Ba mumbled something inaudible. Doors thought he heard the words 'old' and 'lady'. 'How's it all going to work?' asked Ben. Ba grinned evilly. 'Remote detonation.' 'Will there be spoons?' asked Rinso. * * * Obob McGlory gazed passionately at the camera, as the entire world tuned in. 'All of our lives, we have fought this Bean. Tonight I believe we can end it. Tonight is not an accident. There are no accidents. We have not come here by chance. I do not believe in chance. When I see twelve drummers drumming, eleven pipers piping, ten lords a-leaping, nine ladies dancing, eight maids a-milking, seven swans a-swimming, six geese a-laying, five golden rings, four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree, I do not see coincidence. I see providence. I see purpose. I believe it our fate to be here. It is our destiny. I believe this night holds for each and every one of us, the very meaning of our lives.' The sound guy looked at the cameraman. 'What's he on about?' he whispered. 'Who knows?' said the cameraman. 'He's almost as crazy as the Emperor himself.' 'Oh, I wouldn't go that far,' said the sound guy. 'Emperor C's pretty unhinged. And all because of that unfortunate incident with the skateboard and the polar bear.' * * * Two figures stood in the snow, facing each other in plump snowmen outfits. 'So it has come to this,' said Chrisbot. 'Fo' shizzle,' said Jesnails. They were dressed for an ultimate battle like no other: a snumo battle. 'I got your note,' said Chrisbot. 'Give up, you robomofo!' said Jesnails 'Surrender now and I will make sure your death is ever so slightly less drawn out and painful, Thou of Incredulous Coiffure!' 'I'll never surrender! I'm the daughter of Big G up there, I don't do surrender, ya dig? I'm Divine, baby! Fo' shizzle!' 'Enough of this pointless parleying! Let us begin!' Chrisbot barged into Jesnails, but was deflected as she kicked out, sending him running the other way. He was quick to correct his misdirection, however, and this time jumped at the afro'd messiah. Jesnails flung out her arms as if she was about to preach, and a thick wire shot out from her afro, curled around in a halo shape. It glowed electric purple.When Chrisbot landed on it, he was deflected with a shower of purple sparks. He rolled backwards, his snumosuit doing a good job of making him spherical. 'GAH!' 'This ain't no saint's halo, kid!' Jesnails called after him. 'It's got this wicked added fizzizzle!' Through some mechanical trickery, the halo suddenly detached and flew in Chrisbot's direction, sprouting spikes. Chrisbot managed to get up in time to dodge this, but had a ring-shaped burn mark in the centre of his sumosuit from his first encounter with it. The Emperor then removed his cybernetic leg, leaving a thin metallic pegleg that kept him propped up. He lifted his leg and aimed it at Jesnails, and it transformed into a derivative of the minigun. 'I'll show you FIZZLE!' The leg started firing bullets at an incredible rate. The bullets ripped through the air and buried themselves in the snow around and about Jesnails' feet, the barrel of the gun spinning wildly. Jesnails grooved like she had never grooved before and dodged every single one of them. As was predictable with such a rapid-firing weapon, Chrisbot soon ran out of ammunition. He yelled in frustration and hopped towards Jesnails with the leg raised above his head. And Jesnails ran at him. And then an old hovercar crashed into the snow a few feet away, eleven distressed-looking reindeer and a wonderllama following. 'I'm dying,' moaned the wonderllama. The bonnet of the car was smoking. Grace got out, marched towards them with the teapot in her hands as the vehicle exploded behind her and the reindeer bolted into the night, and caused the two of them to stop in their advances. 'Right,' said Grace. 'This ends here and it ends now. I am so very tired of you both and all the chaos you cause! I mean, look at this,' she said, showing them her watch and tapping the face. 'Bean o'clock. I mean, bean o'clock?! It's so stupid!' Jesnails chuckled. 'It true, dawg. You suck.' 'And you're no better with your silly hair!' snapped Grace. The silence that followed could have ended Jesnailsmas all by itself. 'Yo' crossed the line, daddio!' 'Shut up!' 'You can't treat us like this!' protested Chrisbot. 'We could easily destroy you!' Grace laughed horribly. 'Oh, I don't think so. I've killed once before, today, and I could do it another twice so easily...' 'Quit yo' jizzle,' said Jesnails. 'I jizzle not, my dear Jesnails.' She removed the lid of the teapot. 'Little did they know that it was I'--she pulled something out like a rabbit from a hat--'WITH THE SHOTGUN IN THE TEAPOT!!' 'What?!' said Chrisbot. Jesnails scowled. 'Fuck's sake,' she said. 'Losers,' said the wonderllama in the background, half-buried in the snow. 'Hey look, a lit firework...' And then the city was filled with light.
Oh man, fantastic. I laughed so hard at the I, Ba bit, classic. Love it. Oh, and the santas attacking Jesnails, like in some freak Matrix scene. That was good. More, more, more, how do ya like it, how do ya like it, more, more, more.
