Enigma Variations, 22/?: Time for Tea
Title: Enigma Variations, 22/?: Time for Tea
Summary: Vince and Howard have a visitor
Rating: PG-13, mostly for language
Warnings: discreet puking. And the tentacles are beginning to creep in: the H-man’s name has been mentioned. Just sayin’…
Spoilers: someone has four sugars in his tea
Length: about 1400 words
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters, I just borrow them to play with now and again (and again and again and again). For twisted love, not for profit
Notes: I think (no guarantees) that I finally know where this story is going. Would it help you to endure the tentacles if I said that I'd already written the happy ending? OK then, well, I've already written the happy ending...
22 Time for Tea
“Aww, bollocks.” Vince peers out of the window. “Why does it have to start pissing down right when we were gonna go to the pub?”
Howard goes to stand beside him. “We could take an umbrella.”
“Too windy. Look at the aerials all blowin’ about. An’ that pigeon’s goin’ backwards. No way am I taking my hair outside in that.”
“Well… I could go to the offy, lay in a few beers, pick up a film from the rental shop…”
“They’ll be shut. They close early on a Sunday.”
“Just the beers, then?”
There is a bright flash in the distance. Vince shivers. “Nah, I’m fine.”
“Oh,” Howard says, and puts his arm round Vince just in time, right as the rumble of the thunder reaches them. “On second thoughts, how about we just draw the curtains and make a nice pot of tea, eh?”
Vince hugs him. “Cheers, Howard. That’d be great.” He jumps, as another flash splits the sky and another roll of thunder follows it, closer and louder.
They’ve just settled down on the settee and are working on a new crimp about thunderstorms, when there is a frantic banging on the shutters downstairs.
Vince jumps again. “What the fuck’s that?”
“Maybe Naboo forgot his keys and is too wasted to magic the lock. D’you want me to go and see who it is?”
“Nah, you’re alright Howard. If it’s not thunder, I’m not scared of it. You be mother, an’ I’ll go an’ let ’em in.”
Howard pours out, smiling to himself.
There are noises off on the stairs - stumbling footsteps, and Vince murmuring encouragement. Naboo must be really wasted.
But when the door opens, it’s Saboo who comes through it, leaning heavily on Vince’s shoulder.
Vince helps him across the lounge; he collapses on the sofa, next to Howard.
He looks a wreck. He’s shaking, dishevelled, his hat battered out of shape and its feather hanging limply.
“What happened?” Howard asks, though he’s afraid to hear the answer.
The big shaman buries his face in his hands.
Vince sits down on the arm of the sofa, his face very serious. “It’s Naboo. He’s been arrested. By the Testicular Dominoes or somefink.”
Saboo raises his head, his face rain-streaked. “Heptacular Dominion, you teacup.” Even his insults aren’t up to their usual standard.
Howard looks in horror at the row of raw weals down the shaman’s jaw and neck. “What the - ”
“A race of seven-tentacled aliens on a remote planet in the Xooberon system. Unpleasant, violent, ruthless. Keep themselves to themselves. Trespassers will be executed, that’s what their boundary markers say. And even legitimate negotiators - well, as you can see…” Saboo scratches at the scars.
Dread gnaws at Howard’s stomach. “What was Naboo doing there? He was supposed to be at a council meeting.”
“The satnav on his carpet malfunctioned. Took them to the wrong planet. Little tit was too stoned to notice until they were almost down. Fell off the carpet right in front of a security guard and was arrested on the spot.”
“And B-Bollo?” Vince’s voice is trembling.
“Managed to stay on board, hit the default autopilot and get back to the Council. They sent me to negotiate. I was unsuccessful. Lucky to escape.” Saboo tears at the marks again.
“What can we do?”
Saboo throws Howard a look of despair. “Nothing.”
“But the Shaman Council -”
“Won’t take the risk of aggravating them by sending a second negotiating team. You know how cautious Dennis is. There aren’t enough of us who give a shit about Naboo anyway.” Saboo’s eyes fill with angry tears.
“Where’s Bollo now?” Vince passes the tissue box.
Saboo sniffs, and wipes his eyes. “Dennis is looking after him. He’s in a terrible state. Says he knew the carpet was playing up but couldn’t be bothered to fix it. If the others hadn’t been there, I’d have flayed him on the spot and turned his flea-bitten fur into a bathmat. I still might.”
Howard shudders. “What’ll happen to Naboo?”
“They’ll execute him,” Saboo says bleakly.
“Can’t we rescue him?” Vince asks.
“Didn’t you hear what I just said? Hostile planet, hostile aliens, nobody gives a shit… and even the water’s toxic to most other species, you wouldn’t last more than a day.” Saboo heaves a huge sigh. “They say they don’t believe he’s there by accident. They’re going to torture a confession out of him. I - I saw him… couldn’t get to him, but I managed to pick up a signal on my mobile app… look…”
He holds up his phone and presses a button.
‘Welcome to EyeBall, where everything is crystal clear,’ a syrupy female voice declares, accompanied by cheerfully tinkly music.
A crudely rendered glass globe appears on the screen, then dissolves into a blurry circular image.
The music tinkles uncaringly on, as a tiny, black-haired, naked figure writhes in pain in a tank of greenish fluid.
Vince stares in horror for a few seconds, then staggers to his feet, bolts into the kitchen and throws up helplessly into the sink; Howard is rooted to the spot, unable to tear his eyes away.
“They hate bipedals.” Saboo switches the phone off and stuffs it back in his pocket. “Soon as they get bored with torturing him, they’ll use the slightest excuse to terminate him - or worse - and there’s nothing any of us can do…” He swallows hard.
Vince splashes water on his face, and comes shakily back. He leans against the back of the sofa, wide-eyed and pale. “What about Tony?”
“What about him?” Something flickers in Saboo’s eyes. Hope, or regret.
“Well, isn’t he a related species? Couldn’t he talk to them, or… or something?” Vince bites his lip.
Saboo shakes his head. “No way. He looks down on them for having an extra tentacle - the sixes and sevens split off aeons ago and went their separate ways.”
“But it’s gotta be worth a try, yeah?” Vince flicks the wet hair out of his eyes.
“Waste of time. Dennis already asked him, but he won’t risk it. He wouldn’t even stay on Xooberon. He’s just crawled off back to his Belgravia mansion saying it’s nothing to do with him.”
Vince frowns. “There must be a way to persuade him. He must have a weakness - something he wants.”
“He’s a multi-millionaire pink ballsack with twelve houses, a glamorous wife and a jet-setting, interplanetary lifestyle. He’s got everything he wants.” Saboo looks up at Vince. “Everything.”
“Everything?” Vince looks back at Saboo, with a challenge in his expression that Howard doesn’t understand. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
Saboo buries his face in his hands again. Vince goes to sit next to him; puts a hand on his shoulder.
“I’ll… make you some tea, shall I?” Howard isn’t sure what else he can do to help.
“Four sugars, please,” Saboo says weakly.
As he fills the kettle and rummages in the cupboard for the sugar, Howard can hear Vince sounding comforting, and feels a warm glow. He loves Vince’s caring side. He’s sure Vince can get Saboo to tell him what they’ve got that Tony Harrison could possibly want…
Some magical artefact in the shop, perhaps? Information in Naboo’s spellbooks?
Then Saboo says “No,” in a voice that sets alarm bells ringing in Howard’s mind.
“No, seeing you together - I can’t, I can’t ask it, not even - oh, little one…” He breaks down and sobs.
“Come on, this is Naboolio we’re talking about, I’ll do whatever it takes. Howard…”
Vince looks up and sees Howard standing there uncertainly, holding the mug of sugary tea.
“What’s going on?” Howard asks.
Vince turns back to Saboo. “How do I find him?”
The shaman delves into a pocket, and hands over a small device with a big green button.
“What?” Howard is horrified. “Vince, where is he taking you?”
“He’s not goin’ anywhere. But I’m goin’ to see the H-Man. He’s our only chance.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“No. It’s a one-man transport. You stay here, look after Saboo.”
He scrambles up and comes to stand next to Howard; takes the cup and puts it down on the table.
There is a rumble of thunder in the distance, but Vince doesn’t even blink; his blue eyes are bright and determined.
“Howard… I’m sorry.” He reaches up and kisses Howard fiercely.
The button clicks.
There is a green flash, and Vince is gone.
Summary: Vince and Howard have a visitor
Rating: PG-13, mostly for language
Warnings: discreet puking. And the tentacles are beginning to creep in: the H-man’s name has been mentioned. Just sayin’…
Spoilers: someone has four sugars in his tea
Length: about 1400 words
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters, I just borrow them to play with now and again (and again and again and again). For twisted love, not for profit
Notes: I think (no guarantees) that I finally know where this story is going. Would it help you to endure the tentacles if I said that I'd already written the happy ending? OK then, well, I've already written the happy ending...
22 Time for Tea
“Aww, bollocks.” Vince peers out of the window. “Why does it have to start pissing down right when we were gonna go to the pub?”
Howard goes to stand beside him. “We could take an umbrella.”
“Too windy. Look at the aerials all blowin’ about. An’ that pigeon’s goin’ backwards. No way am I taking my hair outside in that.”
“Well… I could go to the offy, lay in a few beers, pick up a film from the rental shop…”
“They’ll be shut. They close early on a Sunday.”
“Just the beers, then?”
There is a bright flash in the distance. Vince shivers. “Nah, I’m fine.”
“Oh,” Howard says, and puts his arm round Vince just in time, right as the rumble of the thunder reaches them. “On second thoughts, how about we just draw the curtains and make a nice pot of tea, eh?”
Vince hugs him. “Cheers, Howard. That’d be great.” He jumps, as another flash splits the sky and another roll of thunder follows it, closer and louder.
They’ve just settled down on the settee and are working on a new crimp about thunderstorms, when there is a frantic banging on the shutters downstairs.
Vince jumps again. “What the fuck’s that?”
“Maybe Naboo forgot his keys and is too wasted to magic the lock. D’you want me to go and see who it is?”
“Nah, you’re alright Howard. If it’s not thunder, I’m not scared of it. You be mother, an’ I’ll go an’ let ’em in.”
Howard pours out, smiling to himself.
There are noises off on the stairs - stumbling footsteps, and Vince murmuring encouragement. Naboo must be really wasted.
But when the door opens, it’s Saboo who comes through it, leaning heavily on Vince’s shoulder.
Vince helps him across the lounge; he collapses on the sofa, next to Howard.
He looks a wreck. He’s shaking, dishevelled, his hat battered out of shape and its feather hanging limply.
“What happened?” Howard asks, though he’s afraid to hear the answer.
The big shaman buries his face in his hands.
Vince sits down on the arm of the sofa, his face very serious. “It’s Naboo. He’s been arrested. By the Testicular Dominoes or somefink.”
Saboo raises his head, his face rain-streaked. “Heptacular Dominion, you teacup.” Even his insults aren’t up to their usual standard.
Howard looks in horror at the row of raw weals down the shaman’s jaw and neck. “What the - ”
“A race of seven-tentacled aliens on a remote planet in the Xooberon system. Unpleasant, violent, ruthless. Keep themselves to themselves. Trespassers will be executed, that’s what their boundary markers say. And even legitimate negotiators - well, as you can see…” Saboo scratches at the scars.
Dread gnaws at Howard’s stomach. “What was Naboo doing there? He was supposed to be at a council meeting.”
“The satnav on his carpet malfunctioned. Took them to the wrong planet. Little tit was too stoned to notice until they were almost down. Fell off the carpet right in front of a security guard and was arrested on the spot.”
“And B-Bollo?” Vince’s voice is trembling.
“Managed to stay on board, hit the default autopilot and get back to the Council. They sent me to negotiate. I was unsuccessful. Lucky to escape.” Saboo tears at the marks again.
“What can we do?”
Saboo throws Howard a look of despair. “Nothing.”
“But the Shaman Council -”
“Won’t take the risk of aggravating them by sending a second negotiating team. You know how cautious Dennis is. There aren’t enough of us who give a shit about Naboo anyway.” Saboo’s eyes fill with angry tears.
“Where’s Bollo now?” Vince passes the tissue box.
Saboo sniffs, and wipes his eyes. “Dennis is looking after him. He’s in a terrible state. Says he knew the carpet was playing up but couldn’t be bothered to fix it. If the others hadn’t been there, I’d have flayed him on the spot and turned his flea-bitten fur into a bathmat. I still might.”
Howard shudders. “What’ll happen to Naboo?”
“They’ll execute him,” Saboo says bleakly.
“Can’t we rescue him?” Vince asks.
“Didn’t you hear what I just said? Hostile planet, hostile aliens, nobody gives a shit… and even the water’s toxic to most other species, you wouldn’t last more than a day.” Saboo heaves a huge sigh. “They say they don’t believe he’s there by accident. They’re going to torture a confession out of him. I - I saw him… couldn’t get to him, but I managed to pick up a signal on my mobile app… look…”
He holds up his phone and presses a button.
‘Welcome to EyeBall, where everything is crystal clear,’ a syrupy female voice declares, accompanied by cheerfully tinkly music.
A crudely rendered glass globe appears on the screen, then dissolves into a blurry circular image.
The music tinkles uncaringly on, as a tiny, black-haired, naked figure writhes in pain in a tank of greenish fluid.
Vince stares in horror for a few seconds, then staggers to his feet, bolts into the kitchen and throws up helplessly into the sink; Howard is rooted to the spot, unable to tear his eyes away.
“They hate bipedals.” Saboo switches the phone off and stuffs it back in his pocket. “Soon as they get bored with torturing him, they’ll use the slightest excuse to terminate him - or worse - and there’s nothing any of us can do…” He swallows hard.
Vince splashes water on his face, and comes shakily back. He leans against the back of the sofa, wide-eyed and pale. “What about Tony?”
“What about him?” Something flickers in Saboo’s eyes. Hope, or regret.
“Well, isn’t he a related species? Couldn’t he talk to them, or… or something?” Vince bites his lip.
Saboo shakes his head. “No way. He looks down on them for having an extra tentacle - the sixes and sevens split off aeons ago and went their separate ways.”
“But it’s gotta be worth a try, yeah?” Vince flicks the wet hair out of his eyes.
“Waste of time. Dennis already asked him, but he won’t risk it. He wouldn’t even stay on Xooberon. He’s just crawled off back to his Belgravia mansion saying it’s nothing to do with him.”
Vince frowns. “There must be a way to persuade him. He must have a weakness - something he wants.”
“He’s a multi-millionaire pink ballsack with twelve houses, a glamorous wife and a jet-setting, interplanetary lifestyle. He’s got everything he wants.” Saboo looks up at Vince. “Everything.”
“Everything?” Vince looks back at Saboo, with a challenge in his expression that Howard doesn’t understand. “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?”
Saboo buries his face in his hands again. Vince goes to sit next to him; puts a hand on his shoulder.
“I’ll… make you some tea, shall I?” Howard isn’t sure what else he can do to help.
“Four sugars, please,” Saboo says weakly.
As he fills the kettle and rummages in the cupboard for the sugar, Howard can hear Vince sounding comforting, and feels a warm glow. He loves Vince’s caring side. He’s sure Vince can get Saboo to tell him what they’ve got that Tony Harrison could possibly want…
Some magical artefact in the shop, perhaps? Information in Naboo’s spellbooks?
Then Saboo says “No,” in a voice that sets alarm bells ringing in Howard’s mind.
“No, seeing you together - I can’t, I can’t ask it, not even - oh, little one…” He breaks down and sobs.
“Come on, this is Naboolio we’re talking about, I’ll do whatever it takes. Howard…”
Vince looks up and sees Howard standing there uncertainly, holding the mug of sugary tea.
“What’s going on?” Howard asks.
Vince turns back to Saboo. “How do I find him?”
The shaman delves into a pocket, and hands over a small device with a big green button.
“What?” Howard is horrified. “Vince, where is he taking you?”
“He’s not goin’ anywhere. But I’m goin’ to see the H-Man. He’s our only chance.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“No. It’s a one-man transport. You stay here, look after Saboo.”
He scrambles up and comes to stand next to Howard; takes the cup and puts it down on the table.
There is a rumble of thunder in the distance, but Vince doesn’t even blink; his blue eyes are bright and determined.
“Howard… I’m sorry.” He reaches up and kisses Howard fiercely.
The button clicks.
There is a green flash, and Vince is gone.