P Lot

Eve worked in a large shopping mart. Every single morning, when the sun was still a pinkish haze through the pollution -she drove the short route through the concrete maze and parked in front of the neon-flashing chaos that was the liquor store. With the click of worn, cheap shoes she strode over the vast parking lot and around to the back of the mart, where it smelled rotten and fishy. The following bit she never remembered, because she was usually too tired. But before she knew it she was seated beneath the penetrating ceiling lights of Shop Smart Super Mart, bipping groceries past the cashier and watching people fumble for their wallets.

In addition to getting half an hour for lunch, five minutes for smokes and special offers on Shop Smart Super Mart’s own brand products (like the “Smart Shopping Super Easy Chicken Pastry Pasties 0.79$” and such) – she also got to wear their striped, red uniform. And she had been particularly lucky to get one that was at least two sizes too big, and a little stiff. So when she sat down by the cashier it looked like she was wearing a striped, red tent with “It Makes Sense to Be Smart - Choose Super Mart™” printed on the back.

At least her co-workers weren’t too bad. She even had a friend of sorts, she was named Ty – it was an abbreviation for something, but to be honest she had forgotten what for. And seeing they had worked together for three years – it just didn’t seem appropriate to ask her now. Ty mostly ate frozen peas. Not in their frozen state, but cooked or stewed or fried or anything. She never had a meal without spicing it up with frozen peas. It gave her a greenish tint. Or maybe it was the lighting at Shop Smart Super Mart. But either way, it made Ty look like a giant asparagus. She even had that odd bend in her neck, and had short, fuzzy hair. It all made sense. That’s if asparaguses wore striped, red shirts and red trousers.

A beard with a man was trying to pay for a load of peanuts. Unlike all the other workers at Shop Smart Super Mart – Eve had never stopped trying to figure out why on earth people would buy ten lbs of Goldenhill Farms Roasted Round Peanuts for 0.69$ per lb, or why someone would insist on paying the appropriate sum of 6,90$,  in cents. The beard was 26 cents short, and she found that she simply chipped him in from her breast pocket, without blinking. Let him have his damn peanuts. Her pay was so bad that those 26 cents really wouldn’t make any difference anyway. She was still going to eat Smart Shopping Super Easy Chicken Pastry Pasties for dinner tonight as well. Or maybe she was having just one, and she could drink some Super Easy Juice. It tasted just like flying.

Before going out for her fifth smoke that morning she passed Otto by the dairy section, he was crying again. His limp shoulders were heaving for oxygen as he couldn’t breathe properly between the sobs. He looked up to see her looking at him, she pointed at the packet of Super Easy Nicotine Explosion in her other hand. Without a word he followed her outside, she lit them both in silence, trailed off to different thoughts. Otto’s eyes bore a red edge, and he inhaled so deeply the curly spark on the end blazed. She decided not to rip it up again, they had been over it so many times, and she could tell by his face that he couldn’t sleep at night. Again.

And that was when she crossed the street by the Fancy Nails Salon. Eve didn’t react fast enough, because Otto had already seen her. His eyes refilled with tears, it looked like walls of glass protruding from beneath his eyelid. And she had the guts to come anywhere near Shop Smart Super Mart. Eve pulled the now frighteningly short stump out of his mouth, dropped hers too to the ground and rubbed them into the concrete. She took a hold of his stiff, striped shirt and dragged him inside to the break room and pushed him down into a chair. Eve then loaded a box of Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Ice Cream marked with a post-it saying “EMERGENCIES ONLY” on it out of the freezer. She didn’t have the guts to sort this out right now. She couldn’t look into Otto’s bloodshot eyes for a second longer. Before hurling out the door she tossed Otto a spoon and pushed the ice cream across the linoleum table. The spoon hit him straight in the face, but he didn’t budge.

When walking away from the Super Smart Shopping Mart it was just like sounds slipped back into focus again, because all you could hear when standing outside the backdoor while having a smoke was the shadowy, mellow “Whirrrrrrh” of the air shafts shooting the sweet, locked up scents of SSSMart out over the small stock-delivery area. Eve was rolling up her sleeves menacingly as she stampeded across the street and past the Fancy Nails Salon, that -even though she had no intentions of kicking the shit out of the woman. With a small, sharp fist on the end of a sticky wrist - Eve grasped a hold of Jill’s collar and shoved her into the walls of Cooke’s Drug Megastore. For a split second Jill looked terrified, then Eve let her go and looked her up and down furiously.

“How DARE you fecking come here now?!”
- “W-what? Eve? – Come he- It’s been nine bloody months! Get off my back, will you?” Jill retorted, looking offended.
“Isn’t this city big enough for both of us? Nine months!” she continued harshly.
- “You KNOW that doesn’t make any difference. Feck it, Jill. He ain’t letting you go, aight? So just get your shopping done in some other street – is it so fecking difficult, is it? Holy fecking shit, Jill. You’re killing him, eh? Couldn’t you at least show some decency in doin’ it by staying the feck away. It just fecking gets to me, aight. It pisses me off”.

Eve didn’t even know why she defended Otto, it had to be the way he tried to hide how depressed he was all the time. But then, it wasn’t working the least bit. He was, facing it – totally useless at hiding it. So bad you could almost suspect he wasn’t trying to hide it. But she knew he was, and she knew she didn’t want to see him hurt any longer. His sadness was as pointless as everything else at the SSSMart. She couldn’t remember the last time she had smiled, either.

Mr. Cubeleck – her boss, was putting the Ben & Jerry’s Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Ice Cream away when Eve re-entered the break room. He took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes with long, worn fingers. She noticed he was in his very best tie.

“Ehm. How is he?” Eve asked.
- “I sent him home.” Mr. Cubeleck replied.
“Yeah. Em. Thanks, I’ll- I’ll take his shift or, - something”. She said, and couldn’t leave the break room fast enough. To get back in to the shop one had to walk through the cool, packed stockroom that was filled with groceries of all shapes and sizes. Eve stopped to catch her breath and straighten her face. He had been wearing his very best tie. He had even been trying to hide it.

Suddenly Ty came rushing through the stockroom, she had makeup on. Her long, weary face looked even more like something out of a different dimension now. Eve pretended not to notice, but Ty had already stopped in front of her with an apologetic look on her face. But before Ty had time to speak, Eve had raised her hand to silence her.
“Look. ‘Key. It REALLY doesn’t matter. Have fun, Ty.”
And while trying not to get eye contact with her, Eve left the stockroom.

The sun was setting in an array of golden bronze between the green and orange cars. From through the glass exterior of SSSMart, Eve at the cashier could see how the golden brassiness of sunlight licked its way over the parked station wagons, over the shopping carts, over the working mothers with their nagging children and over the loaded plastic bags. An old man was buying some more soap, some more Quick It Clean Super Wash for 0.39$ a bar. That was the third time he was in this week. His hands were wrinkly and bright red, like someone had been scrubbing at them for hours. Eve wondered what he needed all that soap for, and if she could legally deny to sell him any more soap, just like a bartender could make an assessment that he’d had enough. Mr. Cubeleck was crossing the parking lot together with Ty. She let the man have the soap, it wasn’t any of her business.

Someone had once done the strangest thing to the parking lot outside the SSSMart, Liquor Store and Imogene’s Pets & Fish. Dark scars in the asphalt marked where a positive soul had once in a desperate attempt to brighten the place - planted trees in a straight row across the lot. It had been done in the hope that some trees maybe could shade the cars on hot days, or provide with some fresh air and perhaps even add some green charm to the utterly charmless stretch of p lots. They had died within a few months, one couldn’t safely say why though. Trees can thrive almost anywhere.

An old woman once walked up to Eve while she was stacking milk cartons in the dairy section, and talked about the trees. The old woman had said that those trees were rare and that they had no business at a parking lot – they should’ve been in a lovely garden somewhere, to be taken care of. Eve had said that it was exactly the same with everyone else. Nobody had any business in a parking lot. Wouldn’t it be nice to be in a lovely garden somewhere, and be taken care of?

Tyla. That was her name, Eve suddenly recalled. Her name was Tyla. It was only four letters, why would someone bother to shorten four letters down to two? It didn’t make much difference. Eve was smoking out her car window, waiting for the light to go green. It was chilly, her stereo was playing some depressing tune that she liked a lot. She studied one of her tattoos intently, it was of some peach tree blossoms crawling up from her elbow and twirling around her wrist. The light flashed green, the traffic swished beside her as she stepped on it and geared on in to the night. Eve’s flashy stereo was probably the only thing she owned that actually mattered to her. Well she did have the fish tank with all the fish in it, Uncle Thomas, Auntie Gertrude, Miss Maple, Little Rudy and Uncle Albert. But they were all fish, they didn’t even know Eve from the next human. She knew them though. Maybe that’s what mattered.

When Eve was leaving her rusty, steel blue Desoto (with those appealing tail fins) she was as always carrying her heavy baseball bat. It wasn’t that her neighbourhood was all that dodgy, it was just that it looked dodgy – and that to a human, could be enough to get into that mindset. So she took her bat with her, and locked herself in to the shady apartment block. The elevator was rickety, but she was never bothered to take the stairs, they had once sorted out an agreement, but it was usually never washed anyway. At least she never did it. Eve’s apartment was in the block of Guemanns Ave. and 47^th Street 59b, apartment 119a. That was the eighth floor, top floor, door to the left. One of the wonderful things about her home at Guemanns Ave. was that it had once been the office of a software engineering company called Walrick Solutions. It had Walrick Solutions slogans visible underneath the paint everywhere. Like in the fourth floor it said “Every problem was meant to be solve...” then the rest disappeared behind someone’s fridge. Not that those slogans were so wonderful, but the architecture of the place had provided everyone with apartments in quite decent sizes. Eve’s Apartment, number 119a had incidentally been the office of the head engineer or whatever one would call the man that was probably the only one in Walrick Solutions that had had any charisma. This meant that her apartment was a little smaller than the others, and with an odd shape. It had though one giant round window on one wall. It made the building look totally crazy from the outside, but provided Eve with an extraordinary view over the sparkling city. The big, round window looked so weird from the outside – most people called the building “The Eye”.

The reason everything had changed so much was that Eve had fallen in love with her teacher. They all called him just “Mister C.” He had sideburns and a contagious laugh – and was probably also the only one who was ever able to teach Eve anything. She’d been only sixteen when she started in Mister C’s history class. She had got in to the school despite it having a maxed Asian quota. Her mother had talked Eve in as being British, because Eve was practically a Brit. She had lived there all her life. It was just that her family had noticeably migrated from Sinuiju, North Korea to northern England a generation back – before spending their very last money to move to Memphis. They had moved to Tennessee for a fresh start.

To be fair, it hadn’t been a fresh start at all. It had been a horrible start. Eve’s brother and father worked around the clock at a laundry service, Eve’s mother worked in a Thai restaurant. It was only Eve that was allowed an education. Her brother Ha-Neul never even got the chance because he was a good worker and not a fast learner- he was good at those repetitive, vegetative tasks. Back in England their family could afford to send them both to school. But in Memphis, Ha-Neul had to work. It had been very different in England, in many ways it had been a good place for them to grow up. Eve’s parents thrived in their little business, the dingy corner shop that sold imported groceries. But Eve’s mother’s brother had other plans for their family. He had set up a very successful Laundry service in Memphis (at least so it was, according to his letters), but the truth was that he whitewashed money for the mob. When Eve’s family sold everything to start over in her uncle’s successful business in Memphis – they arrived to the surprise of finding him in shackles, shot. Her father and brother continued working at the laundry, but the mob wouldn’t trust them to whitewash any money for them anymore. They buried Eve’s uncle behind their house, underneath the unkempt, greyish shrubbery.

Mister C Had a lot of desirable features. For one he was very wise, he knew lots of things – and he never stopped teaching everyone the things he knew. She had been so scared those years, everybody talked differently than from back home in Chester, which meant that she spoke differently than all the other students. They made sure to remind her of that as often as possible – so she never had the time to forget how different she was. And as far as she could recall, Mister C never really did much to prevent them. But that didn’t matter, he wouldn’t have been able to – even if he had tried. They would always have found a way to get at her, especially if she had been the teacher’s pet.

It was at random how they met outside of class one Thursday night. For some odd reason Eve found him crying on a bench outside Ramses Shadow Ink Tattoos, by the bus stop. Eve made a little money from letting the young tattooist Otis, using her as a test subject, and tattooing away at her milky skin. It was a desperate measure, and her mother hated it. But it was still money, and her father accepted them when Eve’s mother wasn’t looking. Because they direly needed it, they had a rent to pay.

Mister C was staring out in front of him with blank, runny eyes, and he didn’t recognise her at all as she sat down on the bench beside him, arms all plastered up in cotton and tape to heal Otis’ fresh works. For some reason she felt like helping, because she recognised him immediately. And it didn’t make much sense to her that the only person in the world she looked up to – and was happy every time she saw him, now sat here and cried his heart out. It disturbed the balance of things. So without thinking she touched his arm, and he – definitely without thinking, wrapped his arms around her, squeezed and continued to sniff and sob. They sat like that, cars sporadically bumping past with tasteless stereos, and the growl and orange glow of the city their only company. When the bus eventually stopped in front of them with a relieving “Pschhhh”, he let go, and she took his hand and led him aboard. And they sat on 77 West Memphis-Local in the odd, kind of light yellow light from the clinically ugly ceiling with all the insects in it. And her arms were throbbing and aching, and his face swollen and unrecognisable, and they sat there and didn’t have anything to say or do. So when he went off at Balfour, they waved to each other as the bus took off again. He from the outside, her from the inside – and that was all there was to it.

Mister C recognised her the next day, when he was once again in character as the charming, appealing and happy teacher – presenting history like it actually made a difference to anything. At first they both pretended like nothing had ever happened, but the day after that again Mister C held Eve back after class. And he looked her in the eyes and he looked important, and she got worried that maybe she had done something wrong. But all he said was
“Thank you, Eve.” And then with a motion of a hand, told her to go after the others. And she did.

It was odd how it developed over the next weeks, they passed the classes by occasionally, and unnoticeably sending each other looks – and later Eve thought it might have been longing. So he sat there and waited for her outside Ramses Shadow Ink Tattoo one Thursday night, completely without warning. And she had tape and cotton all over her left ankle, and she sat down next to him like they had some weeks before. And still they couldn’t think of anything to say to each other. Mister C looked lost, like he couldn’t find the right amount of breath to have in his lungs to speak. But his face gave off that it he was attempting to explain his utterly strange behaviour. Without thinking he suddenly blurted it all out. How he had seen his girlfriend walking out of the Woman’s Care Clinic from across the street. That she had worn such a stern face. And that he had noticed how her cheeks had hollowed the following weeks. And that she hadn’t told him about any of it, but then suddenly yelled it out during an argument and told him that she had killed his unborn child, and that she did it because she couldn’t see a future for them together.

Eve looked at him the entire time while he spoke. He looked bewildered, tried to get himself together. Then apologized
–“I- I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to load all of this on to you, but it’s just, I used to talk to her about things like this, but now she is the one I need to talk about, so I can’t. I feel lost. I- I – oh, sorry.”
-“Don’t mention it.” Eve said quietly. The street was noisy even this late, the cars swishing by – but he could hear her so clearly, it seemed almost unnatural. Eve reached out to touch his arm, it had worked the last time, she just wanted him to hold her in his arms again. She wanted it badly. But he didn’t hug her, he did something worse – he took her hand into his and pressed it softly. Then he started crying again. It was worse this time. She whispered “I am so sorry too. I am sorry about your baby.” but in recollection she don’t think he ever heard that.

They continued to meet casually like that, outside Ramses Shadow Ink Tattoo. And he told her stories about his unborn child – how it would’ve been. Eve told him how her life was, her dead uncle, the bullying, her desperate mother, her brother that had to work every hour of the day. Her short comments always made Mister C knock his worries into perspective, seeing he could at least expect to find himself with a home every night after school – unlike Eve. Her life was as unbalanced and unpredictable as it could be. Mister C was just about the only one who held it in place – him, and probably Otis and his cotton and tape, ink and cigarettes. These Thursday nights got them both into smoking, it gave them a sense of purpose while sitting there underneath the lamp post. They could pretend they met up for some other reason than for the fact that they wanted to be there, together, every minute the entire rest of the week. They met to have a smoke, right?

-“How much’re these?” a girl chewed. Pinkish bubble gum bobbed inside her half open jaw.
-“25 cents each” Eve said automatically. The girl grabbed a handful and dropped them all on the little tray placed above the cashier.

It was a truly odd sensation, because Eve couldn’t remember having dinner or feeding Uncle Thomas, or brushing her teeth in the rusty sink. She couldn’t remember falling asleep to the comforting bubbles of the fish tank with a cigarette still glowing in the ashtray by the window. But still she knew it had happened, and she couldn’t help but jotting those details in to her memory so that she didn’t have to worry that parts of the day kept getting wiped out all the time. She couldn’t even remember getting in that morning. Though maybe she remembered what she had listened to on her way to work, some song. It felt familiar. On the other hand, she couldn’t be too sure.

Ty was sitting in the cashier opposite of her. She kept smiling kind of half worriedly to Eve every now and then, but Eve pretended like it didn’t happen. It was frustrating how she was so eager to get Eve’s “blessing”, or – what did she want her to say exactly? What did she want? She usually kept out of other people’s business, why did Ty and Mr. Cubeleck have to be any of Eve’s concern at all? Let them have their damn excursions to the cinema. It didn’t make any difference to her what they did to fill their spare time. It made a difference to SSSMart, that was for sure, it brightened the place up a little. Just a little bit.

At lunch break Eve sat on the huge recycle bin outside the break room and smoked another Nicotine Explosion while watching a hobo trying to cross the street without losing all his possessions out of his SSSMart trolley. Eve had even seen him steal it from the little discoloured shed on the parking lot, but hadn’t done anything about it. Let him have his damn trolley. What difference does it make?
Ty came out from the break room, she had a bowl of Laurel Meadow’s Delicious Home Grown Frozen Organic Green Peas ($1.98) ready for the microwave in her hand.
- “How are you?” Ty said.
-“Bony, tattooed, dark haired, still consisting of 80% cigarette ashes” Eve said.
-“Better than being 80% frozen peas” Ty replied with a sad undertone
“Eugh, I’m so sick of them. I would’ve stopped eating them ages ago if it wasn’t for my condition, you know”.

Yeah, that’s right. Tyla actually believed her nails would fall off if she stopped eating peas. It was some lie her parents had told her to make her eat her greens, but then they had forgotten to tell her it was a lie. Or maybe Ty’s parents own parents had told them the same – and now they all believed it was true. Either way, Ty got damn serious about it. Sometimes Eve caught her attempting to stick Ultra Hold Extra Strong Superglue ($1.90) underneath her nails. But frozen peas were just about as sweet and flavourless as a vegetable could get – so hating every other green, Ty had no choice but to stick to the peas. Unless she wanted to be without nails, of course.

Something was up in aisle seven. Two boys were licking the sugar off all the Everlasting Sweet n’ Crunchy Sticky Strawberry Lozenges. Eve sneaked up on them and suddenly appeared in front of them from behind the Butter Popcorn Toffee Lollipop stand. The youngest boy gave a little shriek out of sheer surprise. To Eve’s astonishment they didn’t attempt to run away from her. From the look of the older one, he knew it would only make matters worse. In desperate self defence he nudged the younger one – and with staggering speed they produced a little stream of salty tears each. Eve ignored them and got them to gather all the “used” lozenges in a little cup. Then she made them stack all the butter into the shelf in the dairy section while surveying them closely. At first they made no effort at it, but after a while they started to measure the space in-between the margarine and the butter to make sure they were stacked neatly enough. When they had finished the youngest (whose name was Philip the Freckle (that was at least what he had introduced himself as)) asked Eve in a real pleading tone if they could come back and stack the butter some other time. She let them have the cup with the half-eaten lozenges and said that this was their pay in advance if they could come back next week to help her with the soup shelf. Philip the Freckle lit up like a little beacon, even Scamp, the oldest, brightened to this idea. On their way out of SSSMart, Eve overheard him saying how all of this had been his idea, and that he had let them be caught on purpose. Philips eyes were widening in admiration as his little voice trailed off.

Mister C’s girlfriend moved out some weeks later, and it was a sigh of relief. It was like both Mister C and Eve could exhale properly again. They had met up ever so more often those weeks, talking shit, talking seriously, sitting together in silence, smoking. One night she had fresh tattoos done, as usual on late Thursdays– and he looked so calmed and mild that night. So free. She tried to catch his eyes, and for a while he didn’t notice, but then he turned to face her – and they sat with their eyes locked for a moment. He looked so comforted and tranquil so when she leant over to embrace him – she didn’t expect him to kiss her. But he did. It was a soft peck, it made her body jolt, but she kissed him back. Because when they were as close as that, she realised that that was what she had wanted all along. He was a good kisser, she thought, or – she wasn’t sure. But it didn’t matter. It didn’t make any difference.

-“We can’t tell anyone”. He said blankly as they were sitting on the bus home.
-“I won’t tell, who would I tell? Nobody cares what I do” Eve replied.
-“I would lose my job, you know, if somebody finds out”.
-“I know”. She said, and she really did.

Version # 4

1.

“Do you really think that trains rattle to attempt to break free?” the doctor said, pushing his head back a little, as to create distance between them.
- “There is a fault in that theory?” Mr. Llabeye said, but did not seem offended.
“You seem to have ignored the obvious importance of their urge to start dialogue” the doctor said and put his glasses on. “If the inventory of a train is interested in demonstrating freedom, break loose from their chains and organise strikes, it seems logical to me that these items would – in other words – want to communicate” He paused for the effect.
They were passing an exceptionally ugly area of forest where all the trees seemed bent or wrong in a way. The doctors eyes skipped back and forth in his eye-sockets as he was tossing glances at the passing trees, following them for the slight second possible before looking at a new tree. He met Mr. Llabeye’s eyes before continuing. “Doesn’t it sound like a language to you?” He raised his voice a notch and added – with a hint of excitement in his old eyes – “Listen!” he said imperatively, and raised a hand to cut Mr. Llabeye silent as he had drawn his breath to speak. The door at the far end of the carriage was rattling as if urging someone to open it. A wave of excitement spread across the old doctor’s face as the seat in front of them, now, in an odd way, seemed to be replying to what the door had just rattled. Mr. Llabeye thought for a little moment, he could’ve thought for longer, because the doctor was in his own little world. His bulgy old body was attempting to tap the beat of the door and seat with pointy, black shoes. The doctor was lost in his own rhythm and his bowler hat was slowly tipping more and more over to one side.
– “Well I can’t see why not” Mr. Llabeye said finally, settling with the Doctors linguistic hypothesis, he leant back into his seat, the train wiggling him back and forth a long with the rhythm of the passenger heads in front of him.

Tedvard Llabeye, otherwise known as Ted, Tedvard, Mr. Llabeye or Teddy (the nickname he preferred the least) was not a very important person. His late father, Oliver Llabeye, had left Ted a rather enjoyable amount of money when he passed away a few years ago. But Ted was hardly very important anyway, his job as olive-milker being one of the less important jobs in his country’s society. Still Ted loved his job, and his Olive farm in Otsep Valley was in his opinion the very best place in the world. Ted was a married man and so he had been for nearly five years. Those had been nearly five very happy years because he loved his wife very much and Ted was a very lucky man to have her. Together they had a little son and Ted cared for his wife and son very much. Mr. Llabeye was on a train to Gimpsmock-Fillings, looking through a window, getting unavoidably wiggled from side to side. Doctor James Amos Woodchop-Chopling was clapping a continuously disorientated beat in the seat facing Mr. Llabeye. It all seemed like a rather usual thing to take place, two men on a train, minding their business. Yes, a very usual thing to take place, except from the fact that it was not. Ted and Doctor J. A. W. Chopling were not going to the city of Gimpsmock-Fillings with an ordinary purpose. People who went to Gimpsmock-Fillings usually went there to get laid with something they didn’t care what looked like, to hide something particularly nasty, something in-between, or sometimes even both. You could also visit Gimpsmock-Fillings if you had no reason to live or if you had an urge to get rid of all your money as quick as possible.
As you might already have realised, neither of these were the reason why Ted and Doctor J. A. W. Chopling were going to Gimpsmock-Fillings, they hardly do seem like that kind of people, do they? A slightly squint academic and an olive-milker often do give the impression of being rather harmless, especially in the company of each other, like these two. Their business in Gimpsmock-Fillings was in fact, also quite harmless; they had been given special invitations to the annual Gimpsmock-Fillings Baked-Apple and Treacle Festival, and what kind of dumb idiot would ever let go of a VIP-pass to the Fudge n’ Fondue Tent at the Baked-Apple and Treacle Festival? Certainly not these two gentlemen. In Doctor J. A. W. Chopling’s suitcase there was a jar of the Doctors very own, homemade, pickled strawberries with liquorice. This very special treat he had brought along to attend the highly respected Alternative-Tea-Treats Competition. Ted had brought a delicate little box of Olive-milk chocolate covered almonds for the Best Home-Grown Speciality Competition. They were sitting, thinking about trophies and prizes. They could live off the money prize for a year if they wanted to and eventual sponsors could see to the rest. Both the Doctor and the milker were ambitious and bloated with confidence, they were determined to return home with large trophies in their laps, as men often do. Blind for reason they had quarrelled their way out of their houses this same morning, their wives were swinging saucepans menacingly at them, but it did not help. The men had grabbed their usual lunches and darted for the door, meeting up at Market Square in Otsep valley (the little ditch where people would meet up with cattle and nod appreciatively at comments about the weather).
Running away to attend a festival was not the most mature thing the two of them had ever done together, but as usual they had currently forgotten that there would be a decent round of beating for them both when they got home. After all, it was not often that the two of them ever got out of their boring valley, and they were both sure that a helping of big city life would do them both very good.
But, oh -they were so dreadfully wrong.

As the train made a final, annoyed hoot, it chuffed away from platform 54 at Gimpsmock-Fillings Central Train Station. In fact, the sign dangling above their head actually said

Platform 54 – Gimpsmock-Fillings Central Train Station (Your Last Stop)

The unwelcome sensation of having done something incredibly stupid crawled up Mr. Llabeye’s back. Leaving safety, leaving home, leaving everything he knew and leaving all the things he had learnt to befriend! How could he have come up with something as brain-dead as that? Going for an adventure had, though, admittedly sounded alluring the moment he boarded the train. It didn’t quite seem as tempting now however, as the smell of Gimpsmock-Fillings was polluting his lungs. Even though this entire journey-thing had seemed like a first-class idea in the morning, it didn’t even seem the slightest good now that afternoon was approaching. The trip had only taken them about four hours and a glance over at the blood-splattered board told Mr. Llabeye that there was a train going back to Otsep Valley in forty-five minutes. His hand reached for the elbow of Doctor J. A. W. Chopling’s suit, but ended up trying to grasp thin air as the Doctor was no longer standing beside him. It took a bit above four seconds before Ted realised, and by the time he did, he also noticed that he had been ribbed down to his flowery underwear. Suddenly awakened by the cool breeze around his knees he turned around every direction at once, searching for Doctor J. A. W. Chopling’s bowler hat that ought to be easily spotted along the masses. But even though he turned around and round, Doctor J. A. W. Chopling was completely gone and Ted then became aware of his inappropriate outfit again.

There was little Tedvard Llabeye could do, standing at Gimpsmock-Fillings Central Train Station one late autumn afternoon wearing nothing but his flowery underwear and his new black top-hat. Also, his travelling companion Doctor J. A. W. Chopling had been missing for about six minutes and thirty-nine seconds, evaporated without a trace to an unknown location. After another two minutes had passed, Ted’s forehead was so covered in deep, worried wrinkles that his eyes were about to be buried under an avalanche of skin. His flowery underwear had caught little attention, except from by a little Fompfer that had now repeatedly attempted to stick its fuzzy head up the left leg of Ted’s shorts. Ted took another annoyed step to the side, the Fompfer following playfully making little squinting noises of delight as it got even closer to the leg this time. With this hairy little creature hopping about around his skinny calves, Ted tried to get his way to platform 3 that was now spouting a last call to Otsep Valley. The message was carried over some dodgy speakers that looked poorly hotwired to the network, sparks flew from the audio-system.
You might think that platform 3 is very far away from platform number 54 where Ted currently was, but in fact these two platforms were positioned right next to each other. Most Gimpsmock-Fillingers couldn’t count anyway, so it was therefore not important if the numbers descended or ascended in the right way. The important thing was that every platform had a number (they had, however, managed to give two platforms the same number, three times). Ted was made conscious of the fact that the train for Otsep Valley was leaving over twenty-five minutes early, he could though, not blame the poor train. He for one, was certainly sure that he had had more than enough of Gimpsmock-Fillings already.

2.

Meanwhile Doctor J. A. W. Chopling awoke as he heard a screeching noise.
The Doctor could not recall that he had fallen asleep in the first place, or that everything except his respectable underwear (God bless his wife) and his socks had in fact been removed. It seemed, however, more likely that he had been knocked unconscious and mugged. There were few things that the Gimpsmock-fillingers actually did properly as most of the things he had seen of the city had been fastened with duct tape, but mugging they seemed to be able to manage, very smoothly.
A soaring pain appeared in the back of Doctor J. A. W. Chopling’s head and for the first time in thirty-nine years, the doctor could not blame alcoholic beverages or his blessed wife.
He carefully propped himself up with his arms and led one hand to the back of his head. He stroked the painful spot carefully and felt the bump swelling under his thin white hair. He put his hand back down and tried to look around a bit. He found himself being in a very dark place filled with the rests of ancient chewing gums and cigarette stumps. Judging from the smell there was also rotten food nearby. The sudden screeching sound that had awakened him had to be a train. All around him he could also recognise old train tickets which made him draw the conclusion that he had to be underneath the train station.
His eyes were getting more and more accustomed to the dark, only small stripes of afternoon sun coming through slits in the platform above him lit the miserable state of himself and his surroundings. As he untied his legs he suddenly heard a woman’s voice, it was a lot clearer than the muffled conversations coming from above, and so he looked around to see where it came from. Doctor J. A. W. Chopling was still feeling rather delicate so he had been unable to hear what she said the first time. The second time, on the other hand, nobody in the world could get it wrong.
-“I said – Where am I?!” the voice repeated, this time so sharp it could cut steel. He hesitated for a moment, but then heard an annoyed snort (which he recognised as something his wife did too) and gathered himself enough to answer.
-“I d-don’t know m-madam” The doctor stuttered, and looked around anxiously.
-“Miss” the voice corrected stiffly. “And who are you?!”
That was a rather rude approach, the doctor thought, now thinking as she was a “miss” she was probably part of today’s youth which he apparently was supposed to dislike and pass judgment on.
-“I am Doctor James Amos Woodchop-Chopling” he retorted briskly, putting extra weight on the word doctor.
-“I see” she said, with obvious careless-ness in her voice. The doctor sat back with his arms crossed, still unable to see the rude young woman in the dark and intended not to speak to her anymore.
There was silence, only the usual hooting, chuffing and puffing of a train broke the quiet.
“Soooooo” she said finally, after the longest and most awkward death of a conversation she had ever lived to experience. “Are you not going to ask my name?”
The doctor still sat with his arms crossed, looking like a large, insulted baby seal with a moustached pout and a displeased look on his face. He figured it would be to rude to say no – after all, he was a gentleman and he had to pretend like he had a little bit of dignity and politeness left, even though he was ribbed to his underwear. His bowler hat was also missing he realised and started to look around for it as he said:
- “Oh, my dear lady, I sure hope you please do find it within yourself to forgive me, I seem to have completely lost all of my manners since getting to this city. I do apologize for that miss, let’s try it again, shall we? Erhm... So what is your name miss?”
Sounding pleased and softening her voice a bit she said something along the lines of
-“Laurel Lilac Sir, the name is Laurel Lilac”. The tone of her voice indicated that she was blushing. The doctor didn’t really care and just kept crawling around on his knees to find his hat, he was also getting uncomfortably aware of the evening chill that was setting in.
- “so, sir…” Laurel Lilac started, but was cut off.
-“Doctor, if you could be so kind” Doctor J. A. W. Chopling said “I actually did not spend seven years in a cramped university to be called sir afterwards” in the dark you could barely make out that he smiled and there was no menace in his voice, but Miss Lilac seemed to have taken it all the wrong way.
-“Sorry then, doctor” she said sourly “I was just going to ask you where we are”.
-“oh dear, I did not mean it like that Miss Lilac, I was simply correcting for future reference, also, I believe that unfortunately we are at the Gimpsmock-Fillings Central Train Station. Well, we are more like underneath it actually” the doctor said – and had after getting some old candy wrappers stuck to his hand stopped the search for his hat for now.
-“Gimpsmock-Fillings!” Miss Lilac exclaimed happily “well then at least I am still home, this is not bad at all, that’s wonderful. Puh! I am rather relieved” she giggled nervously. “I was scared just then”. The doctor didn’t reply.
“Are you okay doctor?” she said after breathing normally for a while.
-“No actually. No, no I’m not” Doctor J. A. W. Chopling said “I seem to be in a city that is new to me, robbed, no clothes, and to make it worse…” –“you are stuck here with me” Miss Lilac said. –“oh, no, not at all Miss Lilac, on the contrary, I am very pleased to have company in this hour of distress, but you see, my lady, my good friend and travelling companion Mr. Llabeye seems to have been separated from me”.
He looked down at his hands, feeling a bit lost.
-“Oh don’t you worry Doctor Chopling” Miss Lilac said cheerfully. “I will get both of us out of here, we will get something to wear and something to eat, and we will find your good friend, oh no, don’t you worry about that doctor, don’t you worry at all”.

3.

-“I say it only one more time, sir. You are not boarding this train without clothes and especially not without a ticket or any money”.
The conductor blew his whistle and waved numerous colourful flags, threw his shoe in the opposite direction and put a trashcan on fire to signal the train to leave. The train hooted impatiently as it started puffing away from the station. The conductor grabbed a handle and swung himself on board the train elegantly. Before he disappeared inside he tipped his hat at Mr. Llabeye. Poor Mr. Llabeye was standing cold and frightened on platform number 3, a Fompfer was sticking its head up the left leg of his flowery knickers letting out satisfied little sighs now and then. The conductor was right of course, he was doomed without any money and he did not have a place to stay either. The only thing he had was his spotless new top hat –oh, wait, no. –It appeared he only had his flowery knickers and a slightly fruity Fompfer up his shorts, completely new to the scariest city on the planet. Obviously Ted felt lonely and scared, he was a grown man, responsible, quick of mind and experienced, but this was the kind of place where you would rather not be half-naked, broke, alone, or worse; all three of them. Night was draping its way across the city, it was still as noisy and smelly as ever, just darker now. Ted realised he had no choice but to find a place to sleep, if things got really bad, he could sell the fompfer for a little bit of money. He threw a momentary look at the fompfer that was now examining his legs closer with its giant black eyes. For a moment the fompfer stopped looking at Ted’s leg and instead looked up at him, tipped its head a little and purred loyally. Ted didn’t know why, because even though it was all looking more than just “rather hopeless” (which would have been his usual approach to the situation) he smiled affectionately at the fompfer as he started walking towards the exit.
The train station was considerably emptier now and since he had no pockets or no apparent wallet, he could walk unnoticed through the masses of people on the street outside.

Everywhere around him the night was lit by colours, by torches and candles, the air was filled with thick scents and fumes, noises, music, explosions and languages. Ted thought that maybe in all of this, even though it was all very bad, the pulse of the city seemed to give life and energy to him. He found himself being pushed and squeezed like olive bread dough as he walked through the crowd of people, his eyes like plates trying to suck all the impressions in at once. Really he had no place to go, so he thought he might as well explore. The street he was on now, that was named Sees-Smack, seemed to go on forever. In the middle of it there was heavy traffic. There were wagons, horses, cattle, and carriages of different sorts, trolleys, chicken, and sometimes the occasional person attempting not to get run over. Along what people had declared as sidewalk on this road (even though there was no clear line between the two) there were tons and tons of shops. There were people, lots and lots of them, there were stores, stands, booths and restaurants. There were pubs and bars, the occasional drunken fights continuing out on the sidewalk to the local’s enormous amusement.

Everywhere on this long road there were people attempting to sell fake golden watches, or exchanging 50 gold pieces for 15 gold pieces, openly pick-pocketing someone, or robbing someone by casually pointing a knife to their throat. Some people were dressed up as clowns and minstrels to master their mischief with a bit more show about it, as others just looked like the regular unreliable scoundrel, which seemed to work quite well too. So, they were simply crooks the whole lot of them then, Ted decided and made a mental note of never to trust anyone ever again. Ted was actually quite happy that he was not balancing two suitcases on top of his best suit through this street this very moment, it could never work out, never in a million years. Gently, a smell filled Ted’s nostrils, caressing his nasal hair and pleased it with utmost satisfaction. It smelled like open-fire barbecued, carefully crisp on the outside, soft and warm on the inside, cheese-filled, smoked, scolding hot sausages. The ones that were spiced so amazingly and every bite seemed to fill his heart with love and give his life meaning. The stand immediately unveiled itself in front of him, there was a rather pudgy man selling them, he had a large beaming smile that did not even attempt to reflect honesty. Ted walked over to the stand, half-hidden behind a giant that was ordering a cheese-sausage with extra onion on it. Ted reached his knuckled hand out over the sausage selection teasingly, testing the reactions of the salesman. After sprawling his fingers above them for a second, he let his hand swoop down on to the barbeque and snapped up a sausage between two fingers.

The heat scolded with crushing intensity and he had to pinch up his face to not scream. As quick as he could Ted wrapped the sausage in the bottom seam of his knickers, licking his fingers excessively to remove the pain. Having to walk rather strangely now and hot grease dripping from his hands and thigh, Ted found it a lot more challenging to make progress down the street. Sees-Smack was still packed with people of course, but moving about had been easier when he could stand up straight. The fompfer was frolicking about around his ankles as well, making the walk a bit more difficult than any normal walking with a disadvantage walk. He bent down and snapped up a flat-trampled paper bag, it was crumpled and had footprints on it, but anything could’ve done right then. With haste Ted wrapped the sausage in it and could walk normally again – well, as normal as one can walk with a fompfer bouncing at one’s feet. Gnawing happily at his food, Mr. Llabeye made his way down the main street, feeling high on the crime and very pleased about his cunning self.

She was very young Ted reckoned, and she had long flowing curls of blonde hair. Yes she was an exceptionally beautiful young woman, but what really amazed him was the man standing beside her. It was none other than Doctor J. A. W. Chopling –who would’ve thought they would ever meet again?
The Doctor J. A. W. Chopling and the young woman were standing outside a very smelly gate, it had to be an exit from the city sewers, Mr. Llabeye thought.
-“Doctor!” he bellowed (yes in fact, it was proper bellowing because Ted Llabeye had a very deep voice). “Doctor Woodchop-Chopling!” He yelled, waving his arms frantically. In response the keg-shaped Doctor J. A. W. Chopling grinned broadly and yelled back, relief curling its way across his face: -“Mr. Llabeye! I was sure I would never see you again! My, my am I happy to see you, how wonderful! Come here and meet Miss. Lilac!”

And what happened to the excitement of the story? Why didn’t it take longer for the two of them to meet up? Well, something even bigger than the danger of the city is about to come up against them, way bigger, and I thought it would be better for them if they were together against that, all four of them.

They all tried the very best they could to settle inside Miss. Lilac’s little residence. It was a small two floor house along one of the side-roads to Sees-Smack. All the houses in Gimpsmock-Fillings had been built so close together they had gone all crooked and bent, leaning over the roads and alleys as if they were going to topple over any minute. On the ground floor in their current home there was a minuscule kitchen in one corner, a set of chairs around a square table, a little fireplace, a broken piano, the walls were covered from floor to ceiling in theatre posters and a little shelf on one wall was filled with ties. There was only one room on the ground floor and all these things were pressed tightly into it. To make matters worse, a massive amount of dirty dishes were stacked around the room so it was hard to find places to sleep. Little flies zoomed around above their heads as they entered, and loud music from some kind of event a few houses down made flakes of paint drop from the ceiling. Even though the first impression of the house seemed less than convincing, the first floor turned out to be a lot better.
A large double bed, a giant bookcase, a dresser packed with clothes, shelves crowded with girly things, two chairs, a soft toy giraffe, a massive mirror, dirty garments, a box filled with Christmas decorations, eight carpets overlapping each other and the worlds most diminutive sofa had been squeezed into the room. It gave the room a somehow claustrophobic, yet charming appeal, in a way only a young woman could make a mess and still make it seem delightful.
Miss Lilac moved about her belongings, she had lifted her upper lip up, clearly showing she was disgusted by her own mess and apologizing at the same time. The smell of Gimpsmock-Fillings had faded once they had stepped into her home, so both J. A. W. Chopling and Mr. Llabeye seemed only relieved about getting inside. The two of them were currently dressed in some old sheets, wearing them like togas, this had not drawn any immediate attention, so it was all good. The moment they got upstairs, Miss Lilac instantaneously started to dig through her possessions to find some clothes for them. Seeing neither of the three now had any money at all, it was hopeless to try to buy anything.
After waving away at least fifty different flowery, feathered and sparkly pieces of clothing, Miss Lilac admitted her defeat against her own wardrobe and she had to give up. Outside darkness had caught its full embrace of the night, but there was still tons of life outside. The fompfer had made itself comfortable in an old cauldron with burnt porridge scraps along the edges. An old pillowcase with a baroque pattern remarkably similar to the flowery pattern on Mr Llabeye’s underwear had been crammed into the cauldron, which was probably why Philip had settled so nicely in it.
Mr Llabeye attempted to get some shut-eye on the carpet in front of the fireplace on the ground floor, however whatever direction he rolled over he seemed to noisily hit pots and pans. Dr J. A. W. Chopling had fallen to sleep immediately and was snoring generously on the undersized sofa on the first floor. Miss Lilac was drooling munificently in her own double bed, against all odds earlier the same day, it seemed to approach a relaxing night after all.

4.

-“Where is it?!” he demanded, smacking his paperwork about on his desk. He was twitchily walking back and forth in his round office and his head was pulsating with a luminous red. Across the room from him there were three people seated. At least one of them was still seated, the other two had got up so they could bend their necks and look ashamed.
“Well?!” He boomed “None of you seem to be keen to explain this intricate and unfortunate situation to me, or rather, how it could possibly become intricate and unfortunate. Because it was so damn simple, so simple. How could it have gone wrong?! You had a very simple task to do for me, but you screwed up. I want to know what happened and I want to know where the object is, and I want to know now!”
The silence that followed this time was something completely different from what anyone in the room had ever experienced. It was the kind of silences when you don’t know what is loud and what is silent. The sound of your heart pumping blood around your body seems to dominate the use of your eardrums while shouting, screaming and loud noises in general seem to be coming from underwater somewhere.
One of the men that were standing, his name was Sir Joshua Herbert Sherbet, drew his breath as if to speak, but instead of any words coming out of his mouth it was merely a peeping, weak sound of air passing through a pipe. The man at the desk seemed to have lost his patience, the smile curling its way across his exceptionally revolting face gave away that he was planning to do something very mean. Sir Joshua Herbert Sherbet saw this immediately, because he was no dumb man, so Sir Joshua instantly drew his breath again and this time the words coming out of his mouth seemed to never stop.
-“Well you see the thing that happened sir, a case which is obviously horribly regrettable and also pathetic if I may say so myself, is that your consignment – on which you have been waiting ever so unwearyingly for- did not turn up as premeditated. There was difficulty with the train and the crate in which your treasured cargo was kept throughout the journey was not found until after a full search of the entire train sir. The problem was that when the crate finally turned up, it was also empty. There was absolutely nothing we could do but to search the station, it was unfeasible to search every person present though, which I would believe you comprehend, it was rush hour sir. So many people, so much luggage and so much traffic sir. We got a written admission of guilt from the train-driver, but we fully intend to get your cargo back as planned. A written apology and a few gold pieces can not return the treasure which has been lost now, sir. We all understand that, though we do not intend to take full responsibility of the misplaced cargo as it had gone astray way before we even arrived and before it even came into the possession of any of us, sir”. He stood still and waited for an answer in painful anticipation. When the person at the desk finally moved, the two men standing up both winced at the same time.
-“he he” The man at the desk grinned cruelly.
“Your words are as always chosen with care as you are very well articulated my friend Sir Sherbet”. The room was thick with tension, you know the way that you’d rather like somebody to be properly angry, instead of this false content on the outside that could suddenly reveal a fuming inside completely unpredicted.
“Of course neither of you two is forgiven in any way nor will you be before this is over and done with. You will not be forgiven until what I want is on my desk right here. You two are on the job, and you have one week. You’ve got one week gentlemen. Perceive that I have invited a third person into my office today. Gentlemen, let me present to you Miss Marion Eow, better known as Miss M. Eow.”
When the lady in the chair got up, the light from the window behind the desk lit her face. The other two men gasped as they saw her large, green eyes placed beautifully in the face of a cat. She was a woman with a cat face, tall and slender, sexy in a way, having this dangerous attitude about her. “She will be like your parole officer, let’s just say – she’s there to look after you, so if you screw up, I will know – it is the most suitable solution for all of us”. He looked down at his desk. “Lord Melon, since you have not spoken I assume you take a complete side with Sir Sherbet here, which leaves you in the same fully responsible position as him. You three are on this task for now on, I do not care how many people dies, how many Christmases cancelled, how many baby otters have to suffer or how many latte’s you have to drink. The expenses of your personal pleasure during your mission to obtain the objective will be paid for by yours truly. I do this only because I feel very strongly about this particular case, so gold should not be of your concern. You do of course understand that this generosity has a reasonable limit, yes gentlemen, I believe we are done here. You too my lady, so if you would be so kind to get lost, get on with it and leave me alone would you? Thank you”. Sir Sherbet and Lord Melon bowed and scurried hurriedly out of the room, while Miss M. Eow merely nodded before she strode elegantly out of the office. The door closed and the room was only lit by the light from the lively nightlife of Gimpsmock-Fillings coming from through the window. The curtains closed, and alone in the darkness sat Kaptain Kill.

5.

Doctor J. A. W. Chopling stirred the mixture, watched the butter melt and crackle in the pan before he poured the batter in, letting out satisfying "f-shhhhhs’es”. He licked his fingers and hummed with pleasure. Rearranging of cutlery, kettles and general kitchen accessories had noisily filled the house all morning. Ted had managed quite well to remain asleep by shielding his ears underneath a casserole, but after the doctor had removed this, Ted was forced awake. Large bubbles and foam flooded the entire ground floor, the doctor was standing in the middle of it all and scrubbing plates like a madman. The prosperity of dishes had decreased with about half and pancakes were going golden in a hot pan. Miss Lilac had already gone to work, so the two men were left alone in her house. Why a woman that had grown up in Gimpsmock-Fillings would ever leave two strangers alone in her house would simply be because she was a woman that had grown up in Gimpsmock-Fillings. This young woman had been through more than anyone you know yourself, and at this current point in her life, she realized she just had to let go of everything and stop being precautious. She had nothing to win, nothing to lose, no reason to win, no reason to lose. Cutting it short, Laurel Lilac lived every day like it was her last (which it very well could be too). Ted set the table for two, and dusted the shelf with ties properly, folding the ties neatly before putting them back. After a couple of minutes of hard work, they were getting increasingly prepared for breakfast, this they were going to satisfy this need by eating the plentitude of pancakes they had cooked. Doctor J. A. W. Chopling was in a very good mood, because he had been gifted with a minor concussion the day before and could not remember anything about his wife, his daughter, his son in law or his scrawny little clinic in Otsep Valley. Mr. Llabeye had not become aware of this yet, so he was very happy too, because he didn’t know that his best friend had lost major parts of his memory. Besides, Ted had slept very well and couldn’t wait to go out of the house again to see more of this fascinating city. The things he could remember from last night made him question his own wish of ever wanting to leave the marvelous place.
-“It is actually quite funny, that” Ted said, chewing and waving his fork absent-mindedly.
-“What is?” replied Doctor J. A.W. Chopling, being half-present in the morning papers, half present at the breakfast table.
-“I think I spent less than the better part of an hour in this city before I was as much of a crook as a hanger. This place is… Amazing” Ted sipped his milk, chewed and attempted to talk at the same time. Amplifying when he swallowed his food so that people present would know he was going back on topic the moment after he was done chewing. (Of course there was no necessity to do this, because the doctor wasn’t paying the least bit of attention to Ted’s little theatrical moment at all).
“You know, I have never stolen a single thing in my life before, nothing! Never!” Ted mused for a bit, smiling satisfied for himself. “Never in my entire life, ever”. Doctor J. A. W. Chopling nodded bemusedly, adding politely (because Ted had stopped talking for a moment):
-“Is that so?” Then he turned a page and left his breakfast getting colder on his fork.
-“Yes!” Ted exclaimed happily and grinned like a fool, his plate was cleared and his glass was empty, his buttocks itching to leave the house.
“oh, and you don’t happen to know anything about Miss Lilac do you? I feel bad about living in her house and living off her hospitality when I hardly know a thing about her. Actually I don’t know a thing, well I know her name and where she lives, though I guess that is two things and not: ‘not a thing’, but you do get my point, don’t you, doctor?” For the first time that morning Ted’s sanctified-expression was removed from his face. “Doctor J. A. W. Chopling?”

“Don’t you get very annoyed at people who don’t listen to you when you talk though?”
-“of course I do Mr. Llabeye!” said Doctor J. A. W. Chopling, jogging alongside with Ted that was walking with unnecessary haste. “But I just do not see why that means you could empty my breakfast over the morning papers!”
They had been arguing for a good while when they finally reached the end of that alley where Miss Lilac’s home was positioned, escaping into the busy on goings of midday sees-smack. As the day before, they were wearing these old sheets as togas, but like the day before, nobody seemed to really care. Here and there in the crowd, they could of course spot the sporadic high-class person dressed in the same strange glad rags as the exceptionally skinny women in those magazines. You know the ones. Yes, and those, they were the only ones who seemed to care. But, as I said, there were not many of those, besides, they were usually trying to focus on avoiding to be mugged and not always wrinkling noses at unfashionable day wear. Seeing the main street in daylight was at first glance a lot different from what it was at night time. If you kept your eyes steady for a moment on the other hand, you would find that the filthy business that took place at night happened in broad daylight as well, just that now it was wearing more clothes, smiling broader and wearing several capes, not just the usual one for the golden watches. Note that the golden watches being sold at daytime was usually a better purchase than the ones sold at night, people do not eat enough carrots or fish in sees-smack, so their night-vision is at an average quite bad.
The fompfer was, as the day before, tagging along with Ted, even though Ted’s flowery underwear was not as visible as the day before. The fompfer knew that the magniloquent underwear was under there somewhere, (also, whenever Ted got a little excited, he would do a little hop, and from a fompfer’s angle; that usually brought you quite a view).
The three of them bustled down sees-smack with no particular purpose. Ted just wanted to see as much as possible at once, Doctor J. A. W. Chopling didn’t really know what he wanted, but was getting increasingly worried about his sudden need to rub something anesthetic in Ted’s face. Suddenly the three gentlemen were put to a standstill as no other than Miss Lilac herself stood before them. She was wearing a giant dress (which did, they agreed on later; enhance her rather well-proportioned bosom) and a white curly wig with a crown on it, hung dangerously on one side of her head. Beside her stood another woman, dressed in black with an artistic pose and non-matching earrings, her ginger hair stood out in every direction, making her look like she was wearing an agitated red cat on her head.
–“Gentlemen!” Miss Lilac exclaimed, as she smiled, the thick layer of make-up on her face formerly cracked open like an earthquake about to swallow parts of the planet. “What a coincidence! I was just going to pop by at home for lunch and say hi, and I was bringing you this” she said and held up the bag she had in one hand. They gave her the usual brain-dead and male, average quizzical look, and she sighed appropriately with her eyes far up her skull, looking all female and inpatient. The silence remained, and she put her hands to her sides, looking stern. Doctor J. A. W. Chopling and Mr. Llabeye continued to look lost at her, until she pointed at the bag saying “Clothes!” with the female, obvious “you should’ve known” look on her face. They both gave her the regular “aaaah, right” look before they gathered themselves enough to question her rather unusual daywear. That means, they would point randomly up and down, forming mouthwords that does not exist.
“oh! Where are my manners?” she said, smacking her forehead.
“Welcome to the theatre! This is where I work” She stepped aside, even though she didn’t really have to, because the architectural monster was very visible no matter if she stood in front of it or not.
-“So that is what you do?” Mr. Llabeye said interested. While clapping his hands together and then rubbing them, he added a little too quickly:
“I’ve always loved the theatre”. There were obvious flaws in his acting, and one look from Miss Lilac made him realize that she knew that he knew that she knew that he didn’t really enjoy theatre very much. He smiled apologetically as they followed her inside.

6.

The entrance hall of the theatre was a great dome made of old, yellowing glass. Everywhere there were people, and the floor laid with stone tiles was reflecting the constant stirring of voices and heels making it roam with life and noises. Laurel had just opened her mouth to tell the story of the theatre and how it had blown its original budget completely off the hinges – nearly causing it to be torn down at a certain point. A part of the theatre was never finished, which explained the giant gap backstage. If you would be so unlucky to during your performance trip backwards into the drapes behind you, rumors had it you would never get out of the pit alive. Gimpsmock-Fillings National Zoo still used this convenient pit to store crocodiles in, nobody considered this to be the reason why it was lethal to work backstage.
Anyway, the moment Laurel was about to tell them of all this, an important looking man came running towards her and grabbed her arm. His eyes were so open and intense that Ted wondered if they were going to fall out of his face.
-“Miss Lilac! Thank God I found you, I’ve been looking everywhere!” his gesticulations shrunk the term of everywhere to somewhere between the toilet and the lobby. “We have a problem.”

-“It was right there! I swear!” Lord Melon said, his voice was of a very high-pitched nature. Sir Sherbet patted his shoulder fatherly and nodded reassuringly while rolling his eyes. Sees-Smack was packed with people as usual and of course there would be a few fompfers around.
-“yes, yes Lord Melon, I am completely doubtless about the fact that you saw it, but it is gone now, and you can surely stop whimpering. I am sure if the scroungers of our commodity are witless enough to wander Sees-smack in broad daylight, they will most likely reappear”.
Sweat drops were drizzling as Lord Melon ungentlemanly shook his furry head. His characteristic large ears made a flapping sound, giving him a strong resemblance to a person in denial of being a human and not a golden retriever.
Some people actually said that Lord Melon undoubtedly had inherited some kind of wolf-genes, -must’ve been from his mother’s side of course,- since his father (Lord Melon Senior) was the most elegant corporate genius in Gimpsmock-Fillings. Considerably, this mother-wolf-mutant had to have had blonde hair, an albino mother-wolf-mutant or something like that.
Yes, anyway.
Lord Melon shook the curled blonde beard and mane of his, his pale blue eyes proceeding to look out over the busy street. Meanwhile, Sir Sherbet picked up a little orange glass ball from one of his many black pockets, this ball was known among the ones that knew what it was, as a “Twimplett”. This very rare and mystical tool, was worth a great deal of money, its use could be just about anything: A golf ball, a glass-eye (though it would grant you little vision except from a slightly distortional orange glow to most things) or, its original purpose; a looking glass into the present. Back in the days of ancient Gimpsmock-Fillings, a rich monarch was said to have bought Twimplettes for all his fourteen daughters so they could use them as mirrors. (This particular monarch was also known as a total perverted bastard and a deranged idiot, but that is a whole other story, which does not include Sir Sherbet or his numerous black pockets). Sir Sherbet lifted the Twimplett up in front of his face, at level with his nose, and whispered determined at it: “Show me Kaptain Kill’s missing Fompfer”.
A looking glass into the present, a Twimplett, would provide you vision into anything you wanted to see that was happening at the current. A handy tool this was of course. The problem was that when so many things happen at the same time, and unavoidably, so many SIMILAR things would happen at the same time, a Twimplett (or for that sake, any other tool of the same use) would have severe trouble choosing the exact thing you would want to see. I don’t know if you have ever been in that kind of a situation, but sometimes when you are given too many options in life, you might find it better to think of a new option.
Mango or strawberry? I’d rather have banana-nougat, thank you.
Left or backwards? How about straight forward instead?
Well, in its own twisted way, all this made sense in my head, just like it made sense to a Twimplett. In other words, if a Twimplett could not choose from all these different kinds of situations, it would make one up all by itself. That was why Sir Sherbet repeatedly swore badly before stuffing the Twimplett away. The problem, he was later to discover, was that the Twimplett was in this case NOT making up an answer, it was displaying exactly what Sir Sherbet had requested. It was just that what he had behest did in his mind not include two men in a toga and a woman in a baroque dress climbing on what appeared to be the fire station.

(Mhm, today an explanation to the deeds of the strange Lord Melon and his companion Sir Sherbet have been added. An in-depth description of what a "Twimplett" is and also an introduction to the theatre and where Miss Lilac works. So, seems that is what I will add this time around. Zing!)

Version # 3

Chapter 1.

“Do you really think that trains rattle to attempt to break free?” the doctor said, pushing his head back a little, as to create distance between them.
- “There is a fault in that theory?” Mr. Llabeye said, but did not seem offended.
“You seem to have ignored the obvious importance of their urge to start dialogue” the doctor said and put his glasses on. “If the inventory of a train is interested in demonstrating freedom, break loose from their chains and organise strikes, it seems logical to me that these items would – in other words – want to communicate” He paused for the effect.
They were passing an exceptionally ugly area of forest where all the trees seemed bent or wrong in a way. The doctors eyes skipped back and forth in his eye-sockets as he was tossing glances at the passing trees, following them for the slight second possible before looking at a new tree. He met Mr. Llabeye’s eyes before continuing. “Doesn’t it sound like a language to you?” He raised his voice a notch and added – with a hint of excitement in his old eyes – “Listen!” he said imperatively, and raised a hand to cut Mr. Llabeye silent as he had drawn his breath to speak. The door at the far end of the carriage was rattling as if urging someone to open it. A wave of excitement spread across the old doctor’s face as the seat in front of them, now, in an odd way, seemed to be replying to what the door had just rattled. Mr. Llabeye thought for a little moment, he could’ve thought for longer, because the doctor was in his own little world. His bulgy old body was attempting to tap the beat of the door and seat with pointy, black shoes. The doctor was lost in his own rhythm and his bowler hat was slowly tipping more and more over to one side.
– “Well I can’t see why not” Mr. Llabeye said finally, settling with the Doctors linguistic hypothesis, he leant back into his seat, the train wiggling him back and forth a long with the rhythm of the passenger heads in front of him.

Tedvard Llabeye, otherwise known as Ted, Tedvard, Mr. Llabeye or Teddy (the nickname he preferred the least) was not a very important person. His late father, Oliver Llabeye, had left Ted a rather enjoyable amount of money when he passed away a few years ago. But Ted was hardly very important anyway, his job as olive-milker being one of the less important jobs in his country’s society. Still Ted loved his job, and his Olive farm in Otsep Valley was in his opinion the very best place in the world. Ted was a married man and so he had been for nearly five years. Those had been nearly five very happy years because he loved his wife very much and Ted was a very lucky man to have her. Together they had a little son and Ted cared for his wife and son very much. Mr. Llabeye was on a train to Gimpsmock-Fillings, looking through a window, getting unavoidably wiggled from side to side. Doctor James Amos Woodchop-Chopling was clapping a continuously disorientated beat in the seat facing Mr. Llabeye. It all seemed like a rather usual thing to take place, two men on a train, minding their business. Yes, a very usual thing to take place, except from the fact that it was not. Ted and Doctor J. A. W. Chopling were not going to the city of Gimpsmock-Fillings with an ordinary purpose. People who went to Gimpsmock-Fillings usually went there to get laid with something they didn’t care what looked like, to hide something particularly nasty, something in-between, or sometimes even both. You could also visit Gimpsmock-Fillings if you had no reason to live or if you had an urge to get rid of all your money as quick as possible.
As you might already have realised, neither of these were the reason why Ted and Doctor J. A. W. Chopling were going to Gimpsmock-Fillings, they hardly do seem like that kind of people, do they? A slightly squint academic and an olive-milker often do give the impression of being rather harmless, especially in the company of each other, like these two. Their business in Gimpsmock-Fillings was in fact, also quite harmless; they had been given special invitations to the annual Gimpsmock-Fillings Baked-Apple and Treacle Festival, and what kind of dumb idiot would ever let go of a VIP-pass to the Fudge n’ Fondue Tent at the Baked-Apple and Treacle Festival? Certainly not these two gentlemen. In Doctor J. A. W. Chopling’s suitcase there was a jar of the Doctors very own, homemade, pickled strawberries with liquorice. This very special treat he had brought along to attend the highly respected Alternative-Tea-Treats Competition. Ted had brought a delicate little box of Olive-milk chocolate covered almonds for the Best Home-Grown Speciality Competition. They were sitting, thinking about trophies and prizes. They could live off the money prize for a year if they wanted to and eventual sponsors could see to the rest. Both the Doctor and the milker were ambitious and bloated with confidence, they were determined to return home with large trophies in their laps, as men often do. Blind for reason they had quarrelled their way out of their houses this same morning, their wives were swinging saucepans menacingly at them, but it did not help. The men had grabbed their usual lunches and darted for the door, meeting up at Market Square in Otsep valley (the little ditch where people would meet up with cattle and nod appreciatively at comments about the weather).
Running away to attend a festival was not the most mature thing the two of them had ever done together, but as usual they had currently forgotten that there would be a decent round of beating for them both when they got home. After all, it was not often that the two of them ever got out of their boring valley, and they were both sure that a helping of big city life would do them both very good.
But, oh -they were so dreadfully wrong.

As the train made a final, annoyed hoot, it chuffed away from platform 54 at Gimpsmock-Fillings Central Train Station. In fact, the sign dangling above their head actually said

Platform 54 – Gimpsmock-Fillings Central Train Station (Your Last Stop)

The unwelcome sensation of having done something incredibly stupid crawled up Mr. Llabeye’s back. Leaving safety, leaving home, leaving everything he knew and leaving all the things he had learnt to befriend! How could he have come up with something as brain-dead as that? Going for an adventure had, though, admittedly sounded alluring the moment he boarded the train. It didn’t quite seem as tempting now however, as the smell of Gimpsmock-Fillings was polluting his lungs. Even though this entire journey-thing had seemed like a first-class idea in the morning, it didn’t even seem the slightest good now that afternoon was approaching. The trip had only taken them about four hours and a glance over at the blood-splattered board told Mr. Llabeye that there was a train going back to Otsep Valley in forty-five minutes. His hand reached for the elbow of Doctor J. A. W. Chopling’s suit, but ended up trying to grasp thin air as the Doctor was no longer standing beside him. It took a bit above four seconds before Ted realised, and by the time he did, he also noticed that he had been ribbed down to his flowery underwear. Suddenly awakened by the cool breeze around his knees he turned around every direction at once, searching for Doctor J. A. W. Chopling’s bowler hat that ought to be easily spotted along the masses. But even though he turned around and round, Doctor J. A. W. Chopling was completely gone and Ted then became aware of his inappropriate outfit again.

There was little Tedvard Llabeye could do, standing at Gimpsmock-Fillings Central Train Station one late autumn afternoon wearing nothing but his flowery underwear and his new black top-hat. Also, his travelling companion Doctor J. A. W. Chopling had been missing for about six minutes and thirty-nine seconds, evaporated without a trace to an unknown location. After another two minutes had passed, Ted’s forehead was so covered in deep, worried wrinkles that his eyes were about to be buried under an avalanche of skin. His flowery underwear had caught little attention, except from by a little Fompfer that had now repeatedly attempted to stick its fuzzy head up the left leg of Ted’s shorts. Ted took another annoyed step to the side, the Fompfer following playfully making little squinting noises of delight as it got even closer to the leg this time. With this hairy little creature hopping about around his skinny calves, Ted tried to get his way to platform 3 that was now spouting a last call to Otsep Valley. The message was carried over some dodgy speakers that looked poorly hotwired to the network, sparks flew from the audio-system.
You might think that platform 3 is very far away from platform number 54 where Ted currently was, but in fact these two platforms were positioned right next to each other. Most Gimpsmock-Fillingers couldn’t count anyway, so it was therefore not important if the numbers descended or ascended in the right way. The important thing was that every platform had a number (they had, however, managed to give two platforms the same number, three times). Ted was made conscious of the fact that the train for Otsep Valley was leaving over twenty-five minutes early, he could though, not blame the poor train. He for one, was certainly sure that he had had more than enough of Gimpsmock-Fillings already.

2.

Meanwhile Doctor J. A. W. Chopling awoke as he heard a screeching noise.
The Doctor could not recall that he had fallen asleep in the first place, or that everything except his respectable underwear (God bless his wife) and his socks had in fact been removed. It seemed, however, more likely that he had been knocked unconscious and mugged. There were few things that the Gimpsmock-fillingers actually did properly as most of the things he had seen of the city had been fastened with duct tape, but mugging they seemed to be able to manage, very smoothly.
A soaring pain appeared in the back of Doctor J. A. W. Chopling’s head and for the first time in thirty-nine years, the doctor could not blame alcoholic beverages or his blessed wife.
He carefully propped himself up with his arms and led one hand to the back of his head. He stroked the painful spot carefully and felt the bump swelling under his thin white hair. He put his hand back down and tried to look around a bit. He found himself being in a very dark place filled with the rests of ancient chewing gums and cigarette stumps. Judging from the smell there was also rotten food nearby. The sudden screeching sound that had awakened him had to be a train. All around him he could also recognise old train tickets which made him draw the conclusion that he had to be underneath the train station.
His eyes were getting more and more accustomed to the dark, only small stripes of afternoon sun coming through slits in the platform above him lit the miserable state of himself and his surroundings. As he untied his legs he suddenly heard a woman’s voice, it was a lot clearer than the muffled conversations coming from above, and so he looked around to see where it came from. Doctor J. A. W. Chopling was still feeling rather delicate so he had been unable to hear what she said the first time. The second time, on the other hand, nobody in the world could get it wrong.
-“I said – Where am I?!” the voice repeated, this time so sharp it could cut steel. He hesitated for a moment, but then heard an annoyed snort (which he recognised as something his wife did too) and gathered himself enough to answer.
-“I d-don’t know m-madam” The doctor stuttered, and looked around anxiously.
-“Miss” the voice corrected stiffly. “And who are you?!”
That was a rather rude approach, the doctor thought, now thinking as she was a “miss” she was probably part of today’s youth which he apparently was supposed to dislike and pass judgment on.
-“I am Doctor James Amos Woodchop-Chopling” he retorted briskly, putting extra weight on the word doctor.
-“I see” she said, with obvious careless-ness in her voice. The doctor sat back with his arms crossed, still unable to see the rude young woman in the dark and intended not to speak to her anymore.
There was silence, only the usual hooting, chuffing and puffing of a train broke the quiet.
“Soooooo” she said finally, after the longest and most awkward death of a conversation she had ever lived to experience. “Are you not going to ask my name?”
The doctor still sat with his arms crossed, looking like a large, insulted baby seal with a moustached pout and a displeased look on his face. He figured it would be to rude to say no – after all, he was a gentleman and he had to pretend like he had a little bit of dignity and politeness left, even though he was ribbed to his underwear. His bowler hat was also missing he realised and started to look around for it as he said:
- “Oh, my dear lady, I sure hope you please do find it within yourself to forgive me, I seem to have completely lost all of my manners since getting to this city. I do apologize for that miss, let’s try it again, shall we? Erhm... So what is your name miss?”
Sounding pleased and softening her voice a bit she said something along the lines of
-“Laurel Lilac Sir, the name is Laurel Lilac”. The tone of her voice indicated that she was blushing. The doctor didn’t really care and just kept crawling around on his knees to find his hat, he was also getting uncomfortably aware of the evening chill that was setting in.
- “so, sir…” Laurel Lilac started, but was cut off.
-“Doctor, if you could be so kind” Doctor J. A. W. Chopling said “I actually did not spend seven years in a cramped university to be called sir afterwards” in the dark you could barely make out that he smiled and there was no menace in his voice, but Miss Lilac seemed to have taken it all the wrong way.
-“Sorry then, doctor” she said sourly “I was just going to ask you where we are”.
-“oh dear, I did not mean it like that Miss Lilac, I was simply correcting for future reference, also, I believe that unfortunately we are at the Gimpsmock-Fillings Central Train Station. Well, we are more like underneath it actually” the doctor said – and had after getting some old candy wrappers stuck to his hand stopped the search for his hat for now.
-“Gimpsmock-Fillings!” Miss Lilac exclaimed happily “well then at least I am still home, this is not bad at all, that’s wonderful. Puh! I am rather relieved” she giggled nervously. “I was scared just then”. The doctor didn’t reply.
“Are you okay doctor?” she said after breathing normally for a while.
-“No actually. No, no I’m not” Doctor J. A. W. Chopling said “I seem to be in a city that is new to me, robbed, no clothes, and to make it worse…” –“you are stuck here with me” Miss Lilac said. –“oh, no, not at all Miss Lilac, on the contrary, I am very pleased to have company in this hour of distress, but you see, my lady, my good friend and travelling companion Mr. Llabeye seems to have been separated from me”.
He looked down at his hands, feeling a bit lost.
-“Oh don’t you worry Doctor Chopling” Miss Lilac said cheerfully. “I will get both of us out of here, we will get something to wear and something to eat, and we will find your good friend, oh no, don’t you worry about that doctor, don’t you worry at all”.

3.

-“I say it only one more time, sir. You are not boarding this train without clothes and especially not without a ticket or any money”.
The conductor blew his whistle and waved numerous colourful flags, threw his shoe in the opposite direction and put a trashcan on fire to signal the train to leave. The train hooted impatiently as it started puffing away from the station. The conductor grabbed a handle and swung himself on board the train elegantly. Before he disappeared inside he tipped his hat at Mr. Llabeye. Poor Mr. Llabeye was standing cold and frightened on platform number 3, a Fompfer was sticking its head up the left leg of his flowery knickers letting out satisfied little sighs now and then. The conductor was right of course, he was doomed without any money and he did not have a place to stay either. The only thing he had was his spotless new top hat –oh, wait, no. –It appeared he only had his flowery knickers and a slightly fruity Fompfer up his shorts, completely new to the scariest city on the planet. Obviously Ted felt lonely and scared, he was a grown man, responsible, quick of mind and experienced, but this was the kind of place where you would rather not be half-naked, broke, alone, or worse; all three of them. Night was draping its way across the city, it was still as noisy and smelly as ever, just darker now. Ted realised he had no choice but to find a place to sleep, if things got really bad, he could sell the fompfer for a little bit of money. He threw a momentary look at the fompfer that was now examining his legs closer with its giant black eyes. For a moment the fompfer stopped looking at Ted’s leg and instead looked up at him, tipped its head a little and purred loyally. Ted didn’t know why, because even though it was all looking more than just “rather hopeless” (which would have been his usual approach to the situation) he smiled affectionately at the fompfer as he started walking towards the exit.
The train station was considerably emptier now and since he had no pockets or no apparent wallet, he could walk unnoticed through the masses of people on the street outside.

Everywhere around him the night was lit by colours, by torches and candles, the air was filled with thick scents and fumes, noises, music, explosions and languages. Ted thought that maybe in all of this, even though it was all very bad, the pulse of the city seemed to give life and energy to him. He found himself being pushed and squeezed like olive bread dough as he walked through the crowd of people, his eyes like plates trying to suck all the impressions in at once. Really he had no place to go, so he thought he might as well explore. The street he was on now, that was named Sees-Smack, seemed to go on forever. In the middle of it there was heavy traffic. There were wagons, horses, cattle, and carriages of different sorts, trolleys, chicken, and sometimes the occasional person attempting not to get run over. Along what people had declared as sidewalk on this road (even though there was no clear line between the two) there were tons and tons of shops. There were people, lots and lots of them, there were stores, stands, booths and restaurants. There were pubs and bars, the occasional drunken fights continuing out on the sidewalk to the local’s enormous amusement.

Everywhere on this long road there were people attempting to sell fake golden watches, or exchanging 50 gold pieces for 15 gold pieces, openly pick-pocketing someone, or robbing someone by casually pointing a knife to their throat. Some people were dressed up as clowns and minstrels to master their mischief with a bit more show about it, as others just looked like the regular unreliable scoundrel, which seemed to work quite well too. So, they were simply crooks the whole lot of them then, Ted decided and made a mental note of never to trust anyone ever again. Ted was actually quite happy that he was not balancing two suitcases on top of his best suit through this street this very moment, it could never work out, never in a million years. Gently, a smell filled Ted’s nostrils, caressing his nasal hair and pleased it with utmost satisfaction. It smelled like open-fire barbecued, carefully crisp on the outside, soft and warm on the inside, cheese-filled, smoked, scolding hot sausages. The ones that were spiced so amazingly and every bite seemed to fill his heart with love and give his life meaning. The stand immediately unveiled itself in front of him, there was a rather pudgy man selling them, he had a large beaming smile that did not even attempt to reflect honesty. Ted walked over to the stand, half-hidden behind a giant that was ordering a cheese-sausage with extra onion on it. Ted reached his knuckled hand out over the sausage selection teasingly, testing the reactions of the salesman. After sprawling his fingers above them for a second, he let his hand swoop down on to the barbeque and snapped up a sausage between two fingers.

The heat scolded with crushing intensity and he had to pinch up his face to not scream. As quick as he could Ted wrapped the sausage in the bottom seam of his knickers, licking his fingers excessively to remove the pain. Having to walk rather strangely now and hot grease dripping from his hands and thigh, Ted found it a lot more challenging to make progress down the street. Sees-Smack was still packed with people of course, but moving about had been easier when he could stand up straight. The fompfer was frolicking about around his ankles as well, making the walk a bit more difficult than any normal walking with a disadvantage walk. He bent down and snapped up a flat-trampled paper bag, it was crumpled and had footprints on it, but anything could’ve done right then. With haste Ted wrapped the sausage in it and could walk normally again – well, as normal as one can walk with a fompfer bouncing at one’s feet. Gnawing happily at his food, Mr. Llabeye made his way down the main street, feeling high on the crime and very pleased about his cunning self.

She was very young Ted reckoned, and she had long flowing curls of blonde hair. Yes she was an exceptionally beautiful young woman, but what really amazed him was the man standing beside her. It was none other than Doctor J. A. W. Chopling –who would’ve thought they would ever meet again?
The Doctor J. A. W. Chopling and the young woman were standing outside a very smelly gate, it had to be an exit from the city sewers, Mr. Llabeye thought.
-“Doctor!” he bellowed (yes in fact, it was proper bellowing because Ted Llabeye had a very deep voice). “Doctor Woodchop-Chopling!” He yelled, waving his arms frantically. In response the keg-shaped Doctor J. A. W. Chopling grinned broadly and yelled back, relief curling its way across his face: -“Mr. Llabeye! I was sure I would never see you again! My, my am I happy to see you, how wonderful! Come here and meet Miss. Lilac!”

And what happened to the excitement of the story? Why didn’t it take longer for the two of them to meet up? Well, something even bigger than the danger of the city is about to come up against them, way bigger, and I thought it would be better for them if they were together against that, all four of them.

They all tried the very best they could to settle inside Miss. Lilac’s little residence. It was a small two floor house along one of the side-roads to Sees-Smack. All the houses in Gimpsmock-Fillings had been built so close together they had gone all crooked and bent, leaning over the roads and alleys as if they were going to topple over any minute. On the ground floor in their current home there was a minuscule kitchen in one corner, a set of chairs around a square table, a little fireplace, a broken piano, the walls were covered from floor to ceiling in theatre posters and a little shelf on one wall was filled with ties. There was only one room on the ground floor and all these things were pressed tightly into it. To make matters worse, a massive amount of dirty dishes were stacked around the room so it was hard to find places to sleep. Little flies zoomed around above their heads as they entered, and loud music from some kind of event a few houses down made flakes of paint drop from the ceiling. Even though the first impression of the house seemed less than convincing, the first floor turned out to be a lot better.
A large double bed, a giant bookcase, a dresser packed with clothes, shelves crowded with girly things, two chairs, a soft toy giraffe, a massive mirror, dirty garments, a box filled with Christmas decorations, eight carpets overlapping each other and the worlds most diminutive sofa had been squeezed into the room. It gave the room a somehow claustrophobic, yet charming appeal, in a way only a young woman could make a mess and still make it seem delightful.
Miss Lilac moved about her belongings, she had lifted her upper lip up, clearly showing she was disgusted by her own mess and apologizing at the same time. The smell of Gimpsmock-Fillings had faded once they had stepped into her home, so both J. A. W. Chopling and Mr. Llabeye seemed only relieved about getting inside. The two of them were currently dressed in some old sheets, wearing them like togas, this had not drawn any immediate attention, so it was all good. The moment they got upstairs, Miss Lilac instantaneously started to dig through her possessions to find some clothes for them. Seeing neither of the three now had any money at all, it was hopeless to try to buy anything.
After waving away at least fifty different flowery, feathered and sparkly pieces of clothing, Miss Lilac admitted her defeat against her own wardrobe and she had to give up. Outside darkness had caught its full embrace of the night, but there was still tons of life outside. The fompfer had made itself comfortable in an old cauldron with burnt porridge scraps along the edges. An old pillowcase with a baroque pattern remarkably similar to the flowery pattern on Mr Llabeye’s underwear had been crammed into the cauldron, which was probably why Philip had settled so nicely in it.
Mr Llabeye attempted to get some shut-eye on the carpet in front of the fireplace on the ground floor, however whatever direction he rolled over he seemed to noisily hit pots and pans. Dr J. A. W. Chopling had fallen to sleep immediately and was snoring generously on the undersized sofa on the first floor. Miss Lilac was drooling munificently in her own double bed, against all odds earlier the same day, it seemed to approach a relaxing night after all.

4.

-“Where is it?!” he demanded, smacking his paperwork about on his desk. He was twitchily walking back and forth in his round office and his head was pulsating with a luminous red. Across the room from him there were three people seated. At least one of them was still seated, the other two had got up so they could bend their necks and look ashamed.
“Well?!” He boomed “None of you seem to be keen to explain this intricate and unfortunate situation to me, or rather, how it could possibly become intricate and unfortunate. Because it was so damn simple, so simple. How could it have gone wrong?! You had a very simple task to do for me, but you screwed up. I want to know what happened and I want to know where the object is, and I want to know now!”
The silence that followed this time was something completely different from what anyone in the room had ever experienced. It was the kind of silences when you don’t know what is loud and what is silent. The sound of your heart pumping blood around your body seems to dominate the use of your eardrums while shouting, screaming and loud noises in general seem to be coming from underwater somewhere.
One of the men that were standing, his name was Sir Joshua Herbert Sherbet, drew his breath as if to speak, but instead of any words coming out of his mouth it was merely a peeping, weak sound of air passing through a pipe. The man at the desk seemed to have lost his patience, the smile curling its way across his exceptionally revolting face gave away that he was planning to do something very mean. Sir Joshua Herbert Sherbet saw this immediately, because he was no dumb man, so Sir Joshua instantly drew his breath again and this time the words coming out of his mouth seemed to never stop.
-“Well you see the thing that happened sir, a case which is obviously horribly regrettable and also pathetic if I may say so myself, is that your consignment – on which you have been waiting ever so unwearyingly for- did not turn up as premeditated. There was difficulty with the train and the crate in which your treasured cargo was kept throughout the journey was not found until after a full search of the entire train sir. The problem was that when the crate finally turned up, it was also empty. There was absolutely nothing we could do but to search the station, it was unfeasible to search every person present though, which I would believe you comprehend, it was rush hour sir. So many people, so much luggage and so much traffic sir. We got a written admission of guilt from the train-driver, but we fully intend to get your cargo back as planned. A written apology and a few gold pieces can not return the treasure which has been lost now, sir. We all understand that, though we do not intend to take full responsibility of the misplaced cargo as it had gone astray way before we even arrived and before it even came into the possession of any of us, sir”. He stood still and waited for an answer in painful anticipation. When the person at the desk finally moved, the two men standing up both winced at the same time.
-“he he” The man at the desk grinned cruelly.
“Your words are as always chosen with care as you are very well articulated my friend Sir Sherbet”. The room was thick with tension, you know the way that you’d rather like somebody to be properly angry, instead of this false content on the outside that could suddenly reveal a fuming inside completely unpredicted.
“Of course neither of you two is forgiven in any way nor will you be before this is over and done with. You will not be forgiven until what I want is on my desk right here. You two are on the job, and you have one week. You’ve got one week gentlemen. Perceive that I have invited a third person into my office today. Gentlemen, let me present to you Miss Marion Eow, better known as Miss M. Eow.”
When the lady in the chair got up, the light from the window behind the desk lit her face. The other two men gasped as they saw her large, green eyes placed beautifully in the face of a cat. She was a woman with a cat face, tall and slender, sexy in a way, having this dangerous attitude about her. “She will be like your parole officer, let’s just say – she’s there to look after you, so if you screw up, I will know – it is the most suitable solution for all of us”. He looked down at his desk. “Lord Melon, since you have not spoken I assume you take a complete side with Sir Sherbet here, which leaves you in the same fully responsible position as him. You three are on this task for now on, I do not care how many people dies, how many Christmases cancelled, how many baby otters have to suffer or how many latte’s you have to drink. The expenses of your personal pleasure during your mission to obtain the objective will be paid for by yours truly. I do this only because I feel very strongly about this particular case, so gold should not be of your concern. You do of course understand that this generosity has a reasonable limit, yes gentlemen, I believe we are done here. You too my lady, so if you would be so kind to get lost, get on with it and leave me alone would you? Thank you”. Sir Sherbet and Lord Melon bowed and scurried hurriedly out of the room, while Miss M. Eow merely nodded before she strode elegantly out of the office. The door closed and the room was only lit by the light from the lively nightlife of Gimpsmock-Fillings coming from through the window. The curtains closed, and alone in the darkness sat Kaptain Kill.

5.

Doctor J. A. W. Chopling stirred the mixture, watched the butter melt and crackle in the pan before he poured the batter in, letting out satisfying "f-shhhhhs’es”. He licked his fingers and hummed with pleasure. Rearranging of cutlery, kettles and general kitchen accessories had noisily filled the house all morning. Ted had managed quite well to remain asleep by shielding his ears underneath a casserole, but after the doctor had removed this, Ted was forced awake. Large bubbles, mountains of lather and foam flooded the entire ground floor, the doctor standing in the middle of it all scrubbing plates like a madman. The prosperity of dishes had decreased with about half and pancakes were going golden in a hot pan. Miss Lilac had already gone to work, so the two men were left alone in her house. Why a woman that had grown up in Gimpsmock-Fillings would ever leave two strangers alone in her house would simply be because she was a woman that had grown up in Gimpsmock-Fillings. This young woman had been through more than anyone you know yourself, and at this current point in her life, she realized she just had to let go of everything and stop being precautious. She had nothing to win, nothing to lose, no reason to win, no reason to lose. Cutting it short, Laurel Lilac lived every day like it was her last (which it very well could be too). Ted set the table for two, and dusted the shelf with ties properly, folding the ties neatly before putting them back. After a couple of minutes of hard work, they were getting increasingly prepared for breakfast, this they were going to satisfy this need by eating the plentitude of pancakes they had cooked. Doctor J. A. W. Chopling was in a very good mood, because he had been gifted with a minor concussion the day before and could not remember anything about his wife, his daughter, his son in law or his scrawny little clinic in Otsep Valley. Mr. Llabeye had not become aware of this yet, so he was very happy too, because he didn’t know that his best friend had lost major parts of his memory. Besides, Ted had slept very well and couldn’t wait to go out of the house again to see more of this fascinating city. The things he could remember from last night made him question his own wish of ever wanting to leave the marvelous place.
-“It is actually quite funny, that” Ted said, chewing and waving his fork absent-mindedly.
-“What is?” replied Doctor J. A.W. Chopling, being half-present in the morning papers, half present at the breakfast table.
-“I think I spent less than the better part of an hour in this city before I was as much of a crook as a hanger. This place is… Amazing” Ted sipped his milk, chewed and attempted to talk at the same time. Amplifying when he swallowed his food so that people present would know he was going back on topic the moment after he was done chewing. (Of course there was no necessity to do this, because the doctor wasn’t paying the least bit of attention to Ted’s little theatrical moment at all).
“You know, I have never stolen a single thing in my life before, nothing! Never!” Ted mused for a bit, smiling satisfied for himself. “Never in my entire life, ever”. Doctor J. A. W. Chopling nodded bemusedly, adding politely (because Ted had stopped talking for a moment):
-“Is that so?” Then he turned a page and left his breakfast getting colder on his fork.
-“Yes!” Ted exclaimed happily and grinned like a fool, his plate was cleared and his glass was empty, his buttocks itching to leave the house.
“oh, and you don’t happen to know anything about Miss Lilac do you? I feel bad about living in her house and living off her hospitality when I hardly know a thing about her. Actually I don’t know a thing, well I know her name and where she lives, though I guess that is two things and not: ‘not a thing’, but you do get my point, don’t you, doctor?” For the first time that morning Ted’s sanctified-expression was removed from his face. “Doctor J. A. W. Chopling?”

“Don’t you get very annoyed at people who don’t listen to you when you talk though?”
-“of course I do Mr. Llabeye!” said Doctor J. A. W. Chopling, jogging alongside with Ted that was walking with unnecessary haste. “But I just do not see why that means you could empty my breakfast over the morning papers!”
They had been arguing for a good while when they finally reached the end of that alley where Miss Lilac’s home was positioned, escaping into the busy on goings of midday sees-smack. As the day before, they were wearing these old sheets as togas, but like the day before, nobody seemed to really care. Here and there in the crowd, they could of course spot the sporadic high-class person dressed in the same strange glad rags as the exceptionally skinny women in those magazines. You know the ones. Yes, and those, they were the only ones who seemed to care. But, as I said, there were not many of those, besides, they were usually trying to focus on avoiding to be mugged and not always wrinkling noses at unfashionable day wear. Seeing the main street in daylight was at first glance a lot different from what it was at night time. If you kept your eyes steady for a moment on the other hand, you would find that the filthy business that took place at night happened in broad daylight as well, just that now it was wearing more clothes, smiling broader and wearing several capes, not just the usual one for the golden watches. Note that the golden watches being sold at daytime was usually a better purchase than the ones sold at night, people do not eat enough carrots or fish in sees-smack, so their night-vision is at an average quite bad.
The fompfer was, as the day before, tagging along with Ted, even though Ted’s flowery underwear was not as visible as the day before. The fompfer knew that the magniloquent underwear was under there somewhere, (also, whenever Ted got a little excited, he would do a little hop, and from a fompfer’s angle; that usually brought you quite a view).
The three of them bustled down sees-smack with no particular purpose. Ted just wanted to see as much as possible at once, Doctor J. A. W. Chopling didn’t really know what he wanted, but was getting increasingly worried about his sudden need to rub something anesthetic in Ted’s face. Suddenly the three gentlemen were put to a standstill as no other than Miss Lilac herself stood before them. She was wearing a giant dress (which did, they agreed on later; enhance her rather well-proportioned bosom) and a white curly wig with a crown on it, hung dangerously on one side of her head. Beside her stood another woman, dressed in black with an artistic pose and non-matching earrings, her ginger hair stood out in every direction, making her look like she was wearing an agitated red cat on her head.
–“Gentlemen!” Miss Lilac exclaimed, as she smiled, the thick layer of make-up on her face formerly cracked open like an earthquake about to swallow parts of the planet. “What a coincidence! I was just going to pop by at home for lunch and say hi, and I was bringing you this” she said and held up the bag she had in one hand. They gave her the usual brain-dead and male, average quizzical look, and she sighed appropriately with her eyes far up her skull, looking all female and inpatient. The silence remained, and she put her hands to her sides, looking stern. Doctor J. A. W. Chopling and Mr. Llabeye continued to look lost at her, until she pointed at the bag saying “Clothes!” with the female, obvious “you should’ve known” look on her face. They both gave her the regular “aaaah, right” look before they gathered themselves enough to question her rather unusual daywear. That means, they would point randomly up and down, forming mouthwords that does not exist.
“oh! Where are my manners?” she said, smacking her forehead.
“Welcome to the theatre! This is where I work” She stepped aside, even though she didn’t really have to, because the architectural monster was very visible no matter if she stood in front of it or not.
-“So that is what you do?” Mr. Llabeye said interested. While clapping his hands together and then rubbing them, he added a little too quickly:
“I’ve always loved the theatre”. There were obvious flaws in his acting, and one look from Miss Lilac made him realize that she knew that he knew that she knew that he didn’t really enjoy theatre very much. He smiled apologetically as they followed her inside instead.

(yes sir! The 3rd version is here, some bits have been altered and some sentences should definately flow better now. Grammar is slooowly getting in to place. In addition 1135 new words have been added, so things are going ahead, certainly. Well, just lean back and wait for more I guess, the 4th revision will be in soon)