ALL CREATURES

GREAT

AND MAULED

OR

I KNOW, WHAT YOU DID!

The ancient figure sat grumpily on the cold plastic seat. He had wanted to get out of this country. He needed to get away, to that wonderful country that he was told about so long ago. He knew he would be happy there.

But he didn’t have a passport. So the bitch at the counter said that he couldn’t go to yFalminica. Stupid Italians!

"Figlio di Puttana!" The ancient one said, trying out some Italian swearing that he had heard scientists use around the lab. How could he get out of this wretched country?

He shuffled his shrivelled feet, swearing under his breath. "Pezzo di merda." He was stuck in this God-forsaken country forever.

Suddenly he spied, at the end counter that he had just been at, with the bitch, a large black Afro. Yes, he knew this Afro surely. Of course, yes. His old friend.

The ancient one got up and moved stiffly towards the man. He seemed so far away. So painful now, he was speeding up, afraid that his friend would leave without him.

"Don’t go!" he coughed out.

The man was arguing with the bitch. The ancient man could hear some of it. "But they got into the country!"

"I am sorry sir I can not let you take your children through those gates until I see their passports."

"They came to this country just three hours ago, they didn’t have a passport then."

"Yes, but you have no documentation of that."

"Argh!"

"Hello," said the ancient one, tugging on Al’s sleeve.

"What do you want, little boy?" Al asked. The ancient one wore a baggy jumper and pants and a big baseball hat. This all covered his body, barely exposing his wrinkled skin.

"You have to take me back with you to yFalminica."

"What? Do I know you?"

"Yes, kinda. Take me with you," he croaked.

"Listen, if you can think of a way that I can get my kids back to yFalminica without a passport then I will take you with me."

"Mmm," the ancient one considered. "Okay."

Minutes later Al arrived back at the counter with the bitch, an elephant (or so it seemed) in tow. "Hi, me again."

"Yes?"

"Well, you see, I have decided to leave my kids here and I will come back for them. But I would like to take my elephant home with me. As you see I have this coupon which allows me to take ‘One large animal which one would be likely to find on safari, to the destination of my choice, without need of permit’. So is that alright?"

"Can I see that sir?"

Al handed her the coupon, she stamped it. "Have a good flight, sir."

"We’re screwed," AFOC confirmed, everyone stopping shortly, amazed at the first sensible thing the man had said in over twenty five years, before he added. "Flick Wong table top dancer sing goat and me."

They all sighed.

"Where do we go now?" the Black Baron asked.

They were still in the palace, but this time on the third floor, in NTM’s private quarters. They were uncomfortable in each other’s presence, each sat apart from the next. Except for Cleo who was as close as was possible to Captain Homes de Pants, and Gamblor had managed to bridge the gap between him and Inhospitable Reiteration Canine.

"You know what I don’t understand?" Daemina asked. "How could someone have killed Draco in about fifteen seconds, and then have hidden the weapon."

"Mmm, interesting point," NTM considered. "Perhaps it isn’t one of us afterall. Maybe someone came into the room and then left, after killing Draco."

The all sat still, thinking. All of a sudden NTM leapt up and pulled out a gun.

"Everyone stay where they are!"

"Hey! What the hell is going on here?" Captain Homes de Pants demanded and then quickly wondered why he had tried to act brave, and once again returned to the old faithful foetal position (at the peril of attracting the attention of David Bruce).

"I am not letting anyone out of my sight until I know who the killer is!" He tossed his pipe out the window. It landed with a painful squelch in the eye of Gorf’s body which had been left carelessly in the garbage bin.

"Great! This is turning out to be just like that trip to Bosnia," Igor reminded herself. "There always has to be some idiot waving a gun around!"

"Settle down everyone!" NTM said. "I have called the police, we will all have to be locked up until this killer can be identified. Well, actually you will, I am going to stay here, eat grapes and have phone sex."

"Hey, that’s no fair!" Cleo complained. "I can’t flirt with this many people around. Hey Homes, sex, yes?"

Captain Homes de Pants released a bit of saliva from his mouth, feeling that perhaps it could do better work elsewhere. "Hey . . . Mnnnk . . .I, ah," He jammered.

On the lounge in the room Gamblor looked at Infrared Rhapsodical Clavicle, while fiddling with a rather greasy rubix cube. "Hey Mirrors do I have to go?"

"Shh!" Igor warned, "I think I sense another plot twist coming on."

"I hope this one doesn’t end up with me in whipped cream, singing Diamond’s Are a Girls Best Friend to Helmut Kohl," the Baron whined. "Not, that that . . . ah, has ever happened, of course . . . he, he, ha, ha."

Everyone eyed him with suspicion. And then looked around nervously. "No," Igor announced. "I don’t think it is going to happen to us."

"I hope you know where you are going, Cicci," Daisy’s Wife complained, "I am naturally keen to find my Magnio."

"Oh, and why is that? Planning on confirming your status of world-class slut?"

"Yes, but . . . w-what? No!" She glared at the man opposite her in the gondola. "I will have you know, I have always been, and always will be faithful to my Daisy!"

"Ha!" Cicci left it at that.

"What did you do with him?"

"I don’t know. I left him here, I am sure. Unless . . ."

"Unless what?"

"I think we may be in the wrong time, perhaps about a week to far forward."

"What?"

"Yes. We will have to go back a bit. Hold on."

"Damn it Cicci! Where is he?"

"I don’t know, perhaps he went somewhere. Maybe modern Italy was just too good a temptation and he had to explore a bit."

"Find him!"

A voice sprang up from the other side of the canal. "Daisy’s Wife!"

She turned around. "Magnio!" There was the classic cliche of the slow motion run towards each other, which was severely hindered by the canal in between them. But when they reached each other, despite how wet they may have been, they attempted it seems to become even more wet in a flurry of bodily fluids.

"Mmnhlm," moaned Magnio.

"Ooahho," replied Daisy’s Wife.

"Ooh," said Cicci.

There was a pause. "Ah, Cicci. We don’t really need you right now."

"Ah, yeah. OK." Cicci, feeling rejected, wondered off, over a bridge, to the other side of the canal where he sat and listened to the sweet song of the gondoliers.

Cicci took the tiny time travel device from his pocket, fiddled with it’s bark parts. I wish they would just make it a quickie, he thought.

Twenty minutes past and they were still across the canal, making a very disgusting scene. Cicci looked at his watch. It was 7:30pm. He twiddled the switches on the device and disappeared. One second later, he reappeared with a very long beard, followed by a rampaging Velociraptor.

"Argh!" Cicci cried, running for help to Magnio and Daisy’s Wife. Once with them he pushed them out of the way. Daisy’s Wife fell, and was leapt upon by the Velociraptor.

The ancient carnivore dug its enormous claws into her and then fixed its jaws on her head. What followed was very disgusting and can only be fully appreciated through full detail. However this tale is not a blood fest. Or is it?

Warning the following scene may cause distress.

Daisy’s Wife screamed as the teeth rammed into her skull. Her eye socket bled and a thick foam emerged from her mouth.

"You have to do something," Magnio pleaded.

"Whoa, a real Velociraptor attack, this is fascinating!"

"Fascinating! She is f#$king being killed over there! Don’t just f#$king stand there, help me f#$king help her, f#$k it!"

It was too late, the head of the much dead Daisy’s Wife flew towards the two, Magnio caught it unwittingly.

"Argh!" he screamed.

"Whoa, look at the way it just bit her head off!"

Then the Velociraptor looked up from the headless, bloody carcass of Daisy’s Wife. Apparently it didn’t like to be watched while it was eating. It leapt up and chased after Magnio and Cicci.

"Ha, whoa! She did what?" NTM called out. "I didn’t think that was possible! She fit it in there!" He was on the phone to Guru Al who was in the private jet, just an hour from arriving back.

"Whoa, those Italian girls sound wild. I am going to have to go there one day." There was a small beep. "Ahh! What the hell was that?"

"I think you have someone on the other line," Al suggested.

"Oh, yeah. Hang on a minute this shouldn’t take long."

He pressed the button.

"Ahoy-hoy."

"Mr. . . . um, President General. There has been another killing or something." It was Hummana, she had accompanied the police as they took the Bavarians, Igor, Captain Homes de Pants and AFOC to the prison to be watched.

"OK, who was it? Who’s dead now? Mercedes?"

"No, it wasn’t like one of them or something."

"WHAT!"

"It was like two palace security guards or something."

"Heh, heh. It’s a . . .eh . . .perfwect pwan!" Brucey Scalp cried. "No one knows. And they never will, it’s . . . eh . . . just too good." He dusted the dandruff off his shoulder, laughing maniacally. "They will nevwer catch me."

He placed the small metal part in his machine. "Once I have finished them all off, I will take . . . eh . . . charge of this wetched countwy and Communism shall weign!"

His body shook with joy, as he lamented on having such a pale complexion. "Perhaps I should get some fake tan."

"No, I don’t wear fake tan," Captain Homes de Pants insisted. "It’s isn’t true."

"Oh yeah?" Igor asked. "Sorry, that’s as far as I have developed my argument. Your turn AFOC."

"Loon billing for the dead again with passion newt."

"Ha, ha, ha," Igor laughed uproariously pretending to understand him.

"Well we can all relax now, it isn’t one of us," Mercedes proclaimed.

Igor said, "Yeah, but there is still someone trying to kill us."

"Point taken."

"Hey, why do we still need to be in shackles?" Gamblor queried.

"I don’t know, but I like it," Cleo announced. "What do you think Homes?"

"Ah, I am too young."

"Too young for shackles?" Igor asked.

"Yes, ah . . . Mnnml."

"Gees you’re attractive," Gamblor stuttered, "I mean Bees are retractive."

"Whoa," Isolated Ramming Codpiece hummed. "Man, you are insightful."

The van slowed and stopped, Igor looked outside, they had arrived back at the palace.

"I don’t know about anyone else, but I think it was NTM."

"Yeah, he was the only one free," the Baron added.

"But how could he have killed Gorf? He was with us when that happened."

"Maybe," Cleo suggested, "he is having his people kill us. Like that Jack the Ripper. They reckon it was the princes men trying to cover up for them killing one prostitute whom the prince had an affair with."

"Yes, now that you mention it . . ." Gamblor said.

The doors swung open. They all got out.

"Hey, where did he go?" Al asked his children.

"Who?" Al junior asked.

"The little boy with the baggy clothes and the croaky voice."

"Oh, him. I saw him run, well rather shuffle off that way."

"Oh, doesn’t matter, I am sure he’ll be alright."

Al gathered all his seven children together and led them through the airport to the private presidential limo.

Everyone quickly ran into the palace, returning to NTM’s quarters. They found him surrounded by large-breasted women, in tight, pink bikinis.

"Oh, I didn’t think you would be back so soon!" he quickly ushered the women away. "Can’t stop them. I always tell them that it isn’t appropriate in the palace but they just love to dance for me and feed me grapes, and shake those sweet . . . oh, I digress. Take a seat."

Al entered the room. "I am back!" There was no response, except the far off lowing off cattle.

"Miss me?"