Not to be confused with Sue Townsend's Adrian Mole.
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PROLOGUE
The day was just starting at Brown University in Providence, Rhode Island.
Jennifer Cole Steele pushed her chair back from her desk, stretched her
legs and stood up. She left her office in Room 109 Marston Hall and walked
down the flight of stairs and proceeded towards the familiar Coke machine.
She heard the clink of the metal as she inserted the coins into the machine.
She pushed a button and heard the tumbling can drop into position.
Cracking open the push tab she took a long drink from the can and felt
the carbonized tickle at the back of her throat. Suddenly she felt a
dizziness as the hall began to sway and shift shape, twisting and turning.
She backed away from the drink machine as a bright light flashed. A man of
giant stature began to appear before her. He stood silently, hands clasped
in front of him. Though he focused to the end of the hall, his gaze seemed
to look right through her. Finally he spoke, in a slow, warning voice.
"It is happening again."
He spoke the words, and then as immediately as he had appeared, he now
faded and disappeared from view.
Jenna composed herself and looked at the perspiring can she held in her hands.
"Man", she thought, "What are they putting in this stuff NOW?"
Meanwhile, across the ocean, a young englishman, pimple on his right cheek,
descends from his train to a station platfrom in a strange land.
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Cure those Sigfile Withdrollies with:
The Super-Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 28 1/3
(Segment 1)
3 August -- Bistritz
Left Munich at 8:35pm on the first of August, arriving at Vienna early next
morning; should have arrived earlier at 6:46 but train was several minutes
late. It is no wonder continental Europe has trouble attracting professionals
such as myself when they are not courteous enough to adhere to punctual
guidelines. Budapesth seemed a wonderful place in spite of all the foreigners.
I have left my beloved Jo-Jo far behind. She blames our break-up on
the success of my novel "A Language without Words". In fact I suspect
she simply can not handle my artist's temperament. I have been trying to
find just the right inspiration for my second best-seller which I have
temporarily entitled "Truth and Consequences", which will deal with
the fall of civilization from the simple deceits of the populace.
While I write my masterpiece, I have accepted a posting with the
Central Romanian University Social Health Department. Had to fib a bit on
my resume, but the local language should be easy to pick up. I found
a polyglot dictionary in a book-seller's kiosk for 2 pounds.
Hope to sleep better tonight. Last night I was beset by dreams of
evil shrivelled old men and howling dogs. Never got a look at their
faces, but I suspect Bert Baxter and Sabre are at the heart of it.
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He's Baaaaaaaaaaaaack!
The Super-Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 28 1/3
(Segment 2)
4 August
The trains seem to be more unpunctual as I head further East.
I should hate to have to catch a train in China. HA!
I now understand the necessity of the International Date Line,
it is there simply for trains to regain lost time.
Arrived at the hotel later than expected. Thankfully they
rent their rooms by the half-hour. The manager helped me with my baggage.
He is a bit of a dwarf named Oskar Matzerath, very friendly though, which
was fortunate since I had mistaken him for a garden gnome. After picking
up my bags he quickly ushered me inside.
"The pigeons will not hear us inside", he told me. I thought this a bit
odd but he reassured me that "The Pigeons are not what they seem."
I'm starting to wish my train had been just a little bit later.
I enjoyed a quick supper in the dining room while waiting for my coach
to take me to the Borgo Pass. Mrs. Matzerath had cooked a fine pot roast
which would have been delightful had it not been accompanied by Oskar
beating on his Tin Drum. He made the rounds of the darkened room
despite the fact I was the only diner. He finally approached me and
whispered, "The next time you see me, it won't be me." This was a pleasant
thought, but then I shuddered at the possibility of him turning into
Liberace.
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The Super-Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 28 1/3
(Segment 3)
4August (cont'd)
Dinner mercifully had come to an end, and I returned to my room to
collect my belongings. I was worried about the security of the hotel
and had taken the precaution of hiding my valuables under one of the many
loose floorboards. I was relieved to see that they had remained undisturbed.
I helped myself to the complimentary soaps and a couple of towels and
after stuffing them into my satchel went to pay my bill.
Oskar's wife was at the front desk, but I heard him call from the back,
"Remember what night this is." When I asked, the woman who I had considered
to be fairly sane up until this point told me, "Tomorrow is Saint George's
Day, you must take this." She hung a rosary around my neck and cautioned me.
"There are Pigeons in the woods."
The carriage to the Borgo Pass couldn't come soon enough. When it finally
arrived, I stepped in to find myself surrounded by unfriendly faces.
I overheard a few whispers, but they were foreign words to me and I was too
busy trying to identify the smell that seemed to hang in the air. Two of the
travellers seemed to notice my disgust, but they simply pointed accusing
fingers at each other and returned to their business of ignoring me.
Darkness was falling outside and the passengers were becoming more agitated.
We had been on the road several hours and I imagined they were anticipating
the little cellophane packets of peanuts that my travel agent had promised.
The terrain had grown rougher and occasionally a few words would be exchanged
with fingers pointed at me. I pulled my polyglot dictionary out in an attempt
to translate, but I only picked up the odd word. The words and translations
that occurred most frequently were:
Ordog-Satan
pokol-hell
stegroica-witch
vrolok-vampire
Loeb-????? This one wasn't in my dictionary, but the manner in which it
was spoken sounded horrible and chilled me to the bone.
Suddenly, the carriage came to an abrupt stop. The driver flung open the
carriage door and I was pulled out of the carriage into the black night.
"The horses will go no further", he shouted at me. In the distance
wolves howled and the driver remounted his frightened charges and
turned them back down the road from where we had come.
I stood alone in the dark and before I could decide on my next move
the ground shook with the sound of oncoming hooves and the rattle of
a tall black coach.
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The Super-Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 28 1/3
(Segment 4)
5 August-Borgo Pass
The Black Coach pulled to a stop. The driver was heavily shrouded.
He did not speak, but merely pointed to the open coach door.
I climbed in and shut the door just as the driver cracked his whip and
drove his team of horses along the narrow roads through the Borgo
Pass. Onward we drove until he reached the foot of the tallest of the
forbidding peaks.
From here the driver turned off the main roads and on to unmarked paths
that criss-crossed through the forests on the side of the Transylvanian
Alps. Up, up he drove, all around me was black. Every now and then
the driver would stop the coach and rush off into the woods only to
reappear seconds later and start off again. I watched him do this several
times before I realized he was investigating an eerie blue glow that
would appear from time to time in the woods. I was reminded of my days
in London when Barry Kent's gang would get together and light "Blue Flames".
One time he did not return for several minutes and I could feel another
presence watching me. I chanced a quick look out of the coach and
thought I saw a patchwork of yellow skin, under a shock of lustrous black
hair, and a shrivelled complexion, that looked up at me with watery dun eyes,
a black lipped smile exposing brilliant white teeth. I looked again, thinking
myself delusional, but there was nothing outside but black. The driver soon
returned and resumed his journey. Finally, the terrain levelled off
and the carriage pulled to a stop in front of a huge oaken door.
I alit from the coach and the driver sped off into the night.
"This must be the University administration building", I thought, as I looked
up towards the spires that were obscured in the darkness. I could just make
out the forms which were either gargoyles or statues of past presidents.
The darkness was playing tricks on my eyes, it appeared that one of the
gargoyles was moving, but just then a loud metal clang sounded and the
huge oaken door swung open.
"Good evening." I was addressed by a tall older gentleman,
"You must be young Adrian."
"Yes",I replied, "How did you know?"
"By the pimple on your cheek", he replied, "Just like it said in the
prologue. Welcome to my castle Adrian. I am Count Dirac."
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The Super-Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 28 1/3
(Segment 5)
5 August - cont'd.
We spent a pleasant evening together. Thankfully, the Count insisted
on speaking English, in order to reinforce his own language skills. I
commented on his mastery of the language, his English was flawless and
certainly a lot better than a certain writer I knew. I spoke of my odd
journey to the castle and brougt up the curious habits of my driver. He
assured me that the driver was only searching for a couple of MTV brats
fooling around with their lighters. The conversation continued in a casual
manner, until it was broken by the mournful howl of some wolves. The Count
looked up amused.
"Ah, the children of the night, what music they make...." his voice
trailed of, he listened again and, seeming agitated, stood up from his
chair. He walked to the window, opened the glass and shouted out
"Hey Fermi, turn your damn stereo down, willya?"
His voice seemed to echo out into the still night. Finally, the wind brought
its response
"Hey Dirac, Shut your damned dogs up."
The count closed the window and returned to his chair. The wolves
outside seemed to howl anew.
"Now, where was I?", thought the Count, "Ah yes, you should know one
ground rule about the University. You may go anywhere you like, but Don't
sleep in the subway darling."
"Wow, that's a great Petula Clark impression!"
"That wasn't an impression", he told me. "There is a Subway attatched to
the castle, see." He pointed down the face of the castle to where the familiar
yellow and black sign illuminated the street.
"Geez those things are everywhere."
"You're fortunate you didn't come last year, when we were still
being catered by VERSA Food services. Man that stuff will rot your insides.
Since you mention it though I do know a few impressions."
I sat and watched as he went though his repetoire of a spinning top
a cork popping out of a champagne bottle, a frog a rooster and a donkey.
"That's great", I applauded. "Can you do a bat?"
His face grew dark all at once.
"NO!", he screamed, "I don't do bats. It is getting late. You must be tired."
He was right, it was practically dawn. I was worried I had offended him deeply,
but he shuffled me off to my room and bade me a good night.
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The Super-Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 28 1/3
(Segment 6)
5 August - cont'd.
My first restful sleep in days, I slept like the dead.
I had gone to bed so late that I managed to sleep right through
until mid-afternoon. When I finally rolled out of bed, it was to
a steaming kettle of water for the basin in my room. I should have
liked to have shaved, except curiously, there was no mirror in my room.
In addition, the blades I had brought with me were missing, this was not
a total loss since they were a going away present from my mother who still
treats me as if I were fourteen. Until I opened them I had no idea that
Noddy Ware had his own line of shaving products. Their loss was moot
anyway since I hadn't grown so much as peach fuzz since I left London.
The count had also been kind enough to see that my clothes were laundered
and my shoes shined. I had forgotten that my pants were grey and my shoes
black, and not the other way around.
Since the count had allowed me access to the entire castle, I decided
to search him out. After trying one or two doors I assumed he was nowhere to
be found and I turned my attentions to locating the kitchen. This proved
to be more difficult than I expected as every door I tried was locked.
I supposed that the count was being overly protective of his belongings
which was silly since none of the towels I had seen were monogrammed and
hardly worth the effort of stealing. My search at an impasse, I decided to
grab a sandwich at the Subway.
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The Super-Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 28 1/3
(Segment 7)
5 August - cont'd.
The Subway was empty when I arrived. I walked up to the counter
and perused the menu. This month's special was the Haggis sub, but the
waitress steered me away from it. I commented on her name tag, which
named her as Tess, a sandwich artist. She announced that although she
was working as a waitress, it was only a matter of time before she was
discovered as the new Romanian singing sensation. I didn't admit to not
knowing any of the old singing sensations. When I had placed my order
she came around to my table to entertain me with a song while I waited.
The song was written by her manager Terry Jacks, and was called:
Same as Mr. Sub
By Terry Jacks
It's the start of another day
I'm the manager of the new Subway
We're the third one on the block
Unchain the door, open the lock
Hang up my coat and punch the clock
O.K. now, who's first in line?
On which sandwich would you like to dine?
May I suggest you order Tuna on white
The cold cuts aren't a pretty sight
Cause we left them all out overnight.
We have brown, we have white
We have sesame and rye
But our selection of Grub
Is the same as Mr. Sub
Here's a cup roll up the rim,
You haven't got a chance in hell to win
Nobody's ever won I think
You just get the plastic in your drink
And give your hands a waxy stink
All right sir, who's next in line?
Excuse me while I wash my hands this time
Once I forgot to clean off this green dreg
Made a guy his ham and egg
Started an outbreak of the plague
We have brown, we have white
We have sesame and rye
But our selection of Grub
Is the same as Mr. Sub
Enjoy your meal, and thanks a bunch
Thanks for choosing here to eat your lunch
Another Subway opens soon
Across the street this afternoon
And then another one in June
Can I help you M'am? your next in line
Why not try our special Seafood Brine
It's almost like eating real food
It hasn't been FDA approved
So all the comment cards were moved
There's a million stores in this chain
But I hope you'll visit ours again
That's all right no need to scoff
And hide your laughter with a cough
I know the cookies are a big rip-off
We have brown, we have white
We have sesame and rye
I'm sorry I was such a slob
Don't tell the Boss, I'll lose my job
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The Super-Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 28 1/3
(Segment 8)
6 August - early am
I must have dozed off during the seranade, and when I came to
I realized I had been joined at my booth by three women who
despite being attractive enough to raise interest on my part,
showed a horrible lack of fashion sense. Table manners were apparently
also a luxury in this part of the world.
"Where have you been Tabitha?", asked one.
"Killing Swine, sister Sabrina"
"And you Cassandra, where thou?"
"A sailor's wife had chestnuts in her lap and munched and munched
Give me, quoth I: 'Aroint thee witch!' the rump-fed ronyon cries.
"Aroint thee? What the hell does that mean?"
"The hell if I know, what's a ronyon?"
I decided then to make my move.
"So are you girls all alone tonight?", I asked. Apparently this was the
wrong thing to say. They sat their licking their lips and grinning at me.
Cassandra moved closer to me in the booth, when all of a sudden the
count dropped in.
"Ouch! Remind me to fix that hole in the ceiling.", he said.
"Ladies! Leave that boy alone, he is mine."
"Fink", Cassandra cried. "Are we to have NOTHING to eat?"
"All right, all right", Dirac said, "I'll buy you a sandwich."
"Something with Ronyon in it."
"Ronyon, what the hell is ronyon?"
"Make it a foot long."
The count was irate, "Are you nuts, look at these prices. six inches for
everybody. And don't even think about asking for cookies. Put that down
Cassandra, those sub club coupons are mine."
I decided this was a good time to make an exit and headed for the
bathrooms. Unfortunately, when I got there I realized that the signs
were written in Romani. I stared at the doors labelled TARRS and
FETHERS. Fether, that sounds like "father" I must be a fether.
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The Super-Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 28 1/3
(Segment 9)
6 August
Apparently I am a TARR and not a FETHER. The count was livid when
he saw me enter the door marked FETHER. He pulled me out before I could
even switch the light on.
I have had to admit that I don't know anything about Romani and am thus
unqualified for the job he hired me for. He has told me that the only
job I am suited for in Romania is to work as an operator for the
phone company, or drive a taxi. My telling him I thought he wanted someone
familiar with Romaine lettuce wasn't helpful either. Dirac has arranged
for a new want ad to be placed.
7 August
What luck! I may be able to get on the count's good side.
I noticed in the Bucharest Sun that the Sun-Girl has a PhD in linguistics.
8 August
Bad Luck. I neglected to read the girl's name before showing it
to the count. It is in fact my ex-love Pandora Braithwaite.
9 August
Worse luck. Pandora has accepted and arrives tomorrow. I shall
act cool and non-chalant. Have sent my best tweeds to the cleaners.
The count has had me write several letters to my parents of various
dates stating I have left the castle and am on my way home. He certainly is
efficient. The joke will be on him though, as I know how unreliable
the train system is.
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The Super-Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 28 1/3
(Segment 10)
10 August
Pandora arrived this morning, she acted as if she had never met me.
She was very attractive in a brown business suit and matching briefcase.
(She was CARRYING the briefcase!)
Stupid cleaners lost my tweeds and I was forced to wear my old rugby
pants that Grandma had given me for my sixteenth birthday. As a further
insult the count has relegated me to man-servant status. He handed me
a bucket and asked me to fetch a pail of water from the well in the
back yard. He started laughing as I left. Sure enough I have no idea
how to operate the well. It is ridiculously thin and seems to be infinitely
deep. There is no way to even fit the pail in.
I am going back to the Subway and will get a pail of water there.
Tess was very helpful, the men's (TARR'S) room was being washed,
so she allowed me to use the women's (FETHER'S) bathroom to fill my pail.
How odd it was. There were no mirrors of any sort, from what I'd seen of
the local women I supposed this was a good thing. There was a small door
in the back I assumed was the maintenance room. In fact it was marked
as the "Maison de Sante" I opened it expecting to see a sink and some mops,
but I was surprised to see a staircase winding down. How odd, and most
inconvenient. Where does this staircase lead, I wondered. I started down
the steps.
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The Super-Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 28 1/3
(Segment 11)
10 August
When I arrived at the bottom of the stairs, I entered a long thin
hall that passed down the middle of rows upon rows of jail-like cells.
The smell was horrible. Sounds emanated from everywhere, the racket was
extremely disconcerting.
"Ugh what a horrible smell", I said.
"Gimme a break, I've been wearing these clothes for three months."
"Jinkies", said Thelma.
"Oh my goodness", I thought out loud, "I'm in the lunatic asylum!"
"We're not lunatics", insisted a man named Tom.
"Then what are you doing here?", I asked rather matter-of-factly.
"We were brought here."
"And you assumed this was a vacation of some sort."
"We didn't know where we were going, someone else brought us here
from Telgte."
Telgte. I was never good with geography, but the name seemed to stick
in my mind.
"That's ridiculous", I realized. "Telgte is in Germany!
How can your life be controlled by somebody 2000 kilometres away?"
We spoke for some time and I became fascinated with their stories,
there were so many of them and they all seemed so competent.
Every now and then I would get a reminder that these people were lunatics.
"What the hell is Winston talking about?"
I looked to see a man babbling about university entrance courses
and circular quadrangles. I didn't like the looks of him one bit.
"He's become unstuck in time, I think he's five years in the future.
"OOh, ask him about interest rates."
"C'mon something's wrong with Superman."
"Listen to me I know without a doubt
The easiest way for us to get out
I think it was to this man my cel I did loan
Tell me, wherefore art my cellular phone?"
"Ummmm, I needed a few parts for my GaAs project."
"No kidding, how many Paul?"
"Uh, all of them. I just handed it in as it was."
"Gee Professor that sounds like something Gilligan would do."
"Well skipper, the truth is, technically, I never finished my GaAs
project either."
The racket was beginning to build again. I decided I should leave.
"Well I came here to get some water, and I don't suppose anyone knows how
to work the well out back."
"Wait" said one man, "My name is Erwin Schrodinger, I know how it works."
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The Super-Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 28 1/3
(Segment 12)
11August
Schrodinger explained the well to me, and surprisingly he was
right. I have impressed Dirac though he was stunned when I returned
with the pail of water. He would often look my way and start shaking his
head. He was too busy to actually approach me though as his attentions
were being focused on his neighbour, Enrico Fermi. The count was in the
study, leaning out the window watching Enrico discover the large mounds
some wolves had deposited on his lawn.
"I'll get you for this Dirac."
"Sez who?"
"You're not as smart as you think you are!"
"Oh yeah, who got the Nobel Prize first?"
"At least I didn't have to lock Schrodinger in the basement to get it."
"Up yours!"
"Who has an atomic element named for them hmmmmm? Number 100 too,
but you can't get one named for you, you're un-dead, HA!"
"Eat my shorts En-REEK-o."
"Bite me."
"I will."
"Get Bent"
"Boson"
"Fermion"
"Takes one to know one."
He and Fermi are rivals obviously, but what is he hiding from me.
Why does the count look after all the lunatics in the asylum?
And is it possible that Schrodinger is being held against his will?
Went to speak to Pandora. I obviously surprised her because she
jumped when I called her name and shut her briefcase immediately as I entered.
I must try to win her heart, but she won't get near to me.
I begged her to let me get her something as a peace offering.
She insisted that some Fruit Cocktail would be acceptable.
I went down to the kitchen to look for a can and sure enough there was none
in the pantry. Will go to the local grocers to purchase some. Hopefully
it will not be expired. Went to check the Bucharest Sun for the sale
flyers. The count was busying himself with the football scores. I asked
who he supported and he responded "Bolton". His must be a sad and lonely life.
Then as he put down the sports pages, he picked up another section and started
cursing at the top of his lungs. He threw down the paper and left the room
in a rage.
I took a look at the paper and there in bold letters was the headline:
TOWNSHIP MEN SEEK TO DESTROY BLOOD SUCKING MONSTER.
What could it mean?
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The Super-Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 28 1/3
(Segment 13)
11 August-cont'd
Having trouble sleeping. Can't stop thinking of how attractive Pandora is.
Those long lashes above her brown eyes and her shapely legs. (There are parts
between her eyes and legs.) The fruit cocktail has not warmed her attentions
towards me. Perhaps she will enjoy the poem I have left for her.
Pandora, goddess of Romania
Whose looks could sink the Lusitania
How you send me into a mania
When I dream of your body's terrania
12 August
It was early in the morning and I could not sleep.
Maybe Erwin could help me with Pandora. If not, maybe he can explain why the
count was so upset at the newspaper article. I had just started down the
now familiar steps towards the cells, when I heard several hushed voices
whispering back and forth.
"Wake up Mr. Orange. Wake up. You're back in 1995."
"Who are you?"
"My name is Blonde, James Blonde."
"Arrgh! Sandy Eggo says Shaddup. Whyfore ye be using your real name?"
"Sorry Mr. Blue. I couldn't resist the pun."
"This is the silliest thing we've ever done I must say
Why do we have to refer to each other by a colour anyway?"
"Because Mr. White, this way Dirac won't know who we are."
"Ok, so why do we have to dye our hair with Kool-Aid?"
"Because you-know-who wanted to be known as Mr. Sharkleberry-Fin"
"Wheeee."
"But now what do we do? Mr. Pink you've been in jail before.
How are we going to break out of here?"
"There once was a man named Mr. Gray
Picture him now if you may
He once sang a tale
of the joys of a gaol
And everyone thought he was gay
But I must say that I'm tickled pink
That you all want to hear what I think
Well, a note from Mr. Brown
Will soon have us out on the town
And not stuck back here in the clink. "
There was a pause, and then the voices started again.
"So that's it. We sit around and wait?"
"Yes."
"Y'know we've already been here three months, how much longer
should we wait?"
"Oh, only until we're contacted. We shouldn't have to wait much longer
than that."
"What do you think Mr. White?"
"Well I must say his poem was absurd
with the worst rhyme scheme I ever heard
I honestly can't think
why he'd end it with clink
Instead of using some other word"
"He's right, it smells worse than a turd."
"I would have ended it: and not sitting here in the stink"
"Arrgh, that be a stupid ending. I like: Where we can get wasted with drink. "
"Stop it all of you. You're missing the point."
"Which is...?"
"Mr Brown? Who the hell is Mr. Brown?"
"Well it's better than being Mr. Pink."
"Hey, I like being Mr. Pink."
"Why not be Mr. Black?"
"You can't be Mr. Black, black isn't a colour."
"It is too."
"No, it's lack of colour."
"Isn't Mr. White, the lack of colour."
"Arrgh, he be a dull boy for sure"
"No, he's all colours."
"When I mix them all I get is brown."
"See, some colours are absorbed."
"So why are white people white and blacks are coloured?"
"I'm not even white, I'm more of a pink."
"Which, dear child was my point in the first place."
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The Super-Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 28 1/3
(Segment 14)
12August - cont'd.
I recognized the voice of Mr. Orange, as being the man who was babbling
about quadrangles the last time I was here. He seems to be quite a
troublemaker. I liked the original lymerick and not the ending
which he thought was so clever. After they had settled down, I decided it
was safe to make my presence known. I turned the corner and said my hellos
to many of the lunatics. None of them seemed suspicious, until I reached
Mr. Orange's cell and I noticed him staring at me. I walked quickly past his
cell to where Schrodinger was sitting playing dice. His eyes brightened
when he saw me. I thanked him for his help with the well. After a few
more niceties I brought up how Dirac had been startled by the newspaper
article. He turned it over in his hands and read it out loud.
"Township men seek to destroy Blood Sucking Monster. Hmmmmmmm.
Ah, yes I see it now. You have nothing to fear Adrian, this article
is about the proposed Goods and Services Tax in Romania, the
townsfolk are always complaining about the Blood suckers in the
Department of Revenue. I suspect Dirac was more worried about the article on
the other side of this paper:
DON'T MISS SUPER BOB'S GRAND OPENING.
"Hmmm, Super Bob, where have I heard that name before?"
I left Erwin puzzling over the mysterious advertisement.
I ran into Pandora back at the castle, she was not amused with my poem
and told me that sinking the Lusitania was not a good thing.
I told her that she should have had her parents name her something that rhymed
with Bismarck. I thought she was going to whack me with her briefcase,
but instead she confided in me that she was confused about how the count
manages his University. It seems he keeps getting money from the local
government to put towards a community college, but no money for the
University.
"Where is this other Institution?", she wondered.
And then it hit me.
"The Subway."
"What?"
"The Subway, that's the other learning institution."
"They consider Sandwich making an art? I suppose it's 6 credit hours too!
Boy these BA's get more watered down every year. Sandwich Artists, HA!"
"No, there's an asylum downstairs, in the bathrooms underneath the subway."
I explained everything to Pandora. She was so happy she almost kissed me.
Then she stopped at the last second.
"Adrian, be a doll and get me some more fruit cocktail."
I was so happy to have broken the ice with her, I skipped down the stairs
to the kitchen, hoping the grocers had delivered the order.
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The Super-Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 28 1/3
(Segment 15)
12 August - cont'd.
Luckily the grocer had brought several cans of fruit cocktail. I opened
one, poured it into my Noddy Ware bowl and took it upstaits to Pandora.
She was not in the study where I had left her, so assuming she was changing
I walked in to her bedroom, but to my surprise she was not there either.
I checked her bathroom, then her closet and finally her dresser drawers,
but she was nowhere to be found. Something in the closet had caught my
attention, and when I took a second look I was struck dumb.
"Ow!" A loose can of fruit cocktail had fallen from a shelf. I
couldn't believe my eyes. There were cases upon cases of cans of fruit
cocktail inside her closet. "Nobody could like Fruit cocktail THAT much."
I searched and double searched her room, there wasn't a tag saying
DO NOT REMOVE UNDER PENALTY OF LAW anywhere. Stupid scavenger hunt.
Maybe Pandora was in the scavenger hunt too! Her briefcase is missing.
I checked her desk and noticed the note pad. It had deep impressions
from where the pen had pressed down. I took out a pencil and rubbed it
across the top page. Her last message appeared as a ghostly image.
WATCH OUT FOR AGENT ORANGE.
I knew he was a troublemaker.
It suddenly dawned on me. She must be Mr. Brown. Come to think of it her
legs were hairier than I remembered. She had obviously been disguised
as Mr. Brown for some time. I headed for the front door. Once she knew
that I knew everything she would be sure to fall in love with me again.
I sign for 1000 cases of Bleach delivered by a gap-toothed delivery man
and then head over to the asylum.
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The Super-Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 28 1/3
(Segment 16)
Watch out for Mr. Orange, Pandora had discovered his true identity
and now she was gone. But who was he working for, Enrico Fermi?
Count Dirac? If she was Mr. Brown then she was obviously helping the
lunatics in the asylum. In that case I had to get back to Subway to warn
Schrodinger and the rest. After that I would have to save Pandora.
When I arrived at the asylum, Mr. Orange was in another one of his states.
He didn't notice me step past his cell and reach Schrodinger's.
Schrodinger started speaking in a hurried excited tone.
"I've seen Super Bob before. He looks like, how did Frank say he looked
like?.... um well.
"I don't have time, you'll have to tell me later. I have an important message
from Mr. Brown. Make sure the right person gets it. I've got to find Pan."
"See ya Tinkerbell."
I could hear Mr. Sharkleberry Finn giggling in the background.
Why does Dirac keep these people on? Who are the sane and who are the insane?
What is so horrible about Super Bob?
I can't shake the feeling that the count is hiding something from me.
The night has fallen but I still take the long route back to the castle.
I follow a path through the dark forest. Wolves howl. A pigeon coos.
I've been walking for a long time now and I don't see the lights of
the castle. I break into a run, but still the path does not reveal
the familiar castle lights. I have taken a wrong turn somewhere.
In the distance I see a dim glow, I head towards it. Moonlight
glints off metal. I can make out a sign.
Glastobury Grove.
What is this place?
I run further and almost run smack into a heap of metal.
I feel in the darkness and sense lettering on the exterior.
P-U-G-E-
Pugeots! that's what the little man was trying to tell me.
There are Pugeots in the woods. At last I know his dread secret....
He's a used car salesman. Glastonbury Grove is a used car lot.
That's why he needs all these lunatics, to train them for sales personell.
I must save Pan.
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The Super-Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 28 1/3
(Segment 17)
I am still standing in the dark, when suddenly, all around me explodes
into daylight. Lights go on everywhere. Thousands of headlights burst into
radiance and I am left blinded. I hear Dirac's voice.
"Damn you Enrico, did you hook all these cars up to the clapper!"
Then he sees me.
"You, Idiot boy. I'm not through with you yet."
I'm, cornered. He tosses me into the back seat of his '85 Chevy
Cavalier and takes me to the asylum. By coincidence I am thrown into
the cell right next to Erwin.
"Dirac is a used car salesman", I whisper to him.
"Yes, that makes sense. It's all falling into place now."
"What is going on?"
"Fermi and Dirac have been feuding for some time now. They're constantly
trying to out-do the other. Somehow we've been caught up in all of this."
"I don't understand."
"We were all minding our own business in Telgte, when all of a sudden
we were taken prisoner and transported to this asylum. We were treated
reasonably well at first, but some of us started to feel uneasy."
"How can you say that you were treated reasonably well? You're living in
a cold dark cell in the ground."
"Hey have you tried finding a reasonably priced apartment in a big city?
And especially one with a flexible lease."
"You're a prisoner!"
"Only for a year, unless we can sublet. Besides we get free cable.
Granted some of us became suspicious when all we could get was Automan
and Knight Rider. It was then that we realized why Dirac wanted us all."
"To train you as used car salesmen."
"Exactly, That's when one of us managed to escape. Dirac was upset
but we never heard from him, so we assumed the wolves got to him."
"So what really happened to him."
"He must have gone for help, to the nearest person around."
"Fermi?"
"Right again. Then you brought me the newspaper clipping that angered
Dirac so much."
"Don't miss Super Bob's grand opening."
"I know who Super Bob is. He was the brother of my friend Frank. I just
remembered the first day I met him, Frank told me what he looked like,
a used car salesman. So when Dirac lost his prize guinea-pig, only to find
him taken in by the opposition, he was naturally upset."
"But What is going on?"
"It's obvious, they're trying to have a used car price war."
"RIGHT YOU ARE!"
Dirac stepped from the shadows and started laughing maniacally in what
can only be called a flagrant bit of over-acting in a poor attempt to be
nominated for Best Supporting Un-Dead Actor.
He was still laughing when the stone wall behind him crashed in.
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The Super-Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 28 1/3
(Segment 18)
Schrodinger's eyes grew large.
"It's Bob, he's come back to save us."
I watched as the tall looming figure crashed through the rubble and over
the fallen body of the count. He was obviously upset and he heaved metal
gates and walls around in his rage. Out of the corner of my eye I saw
Pandora arrive in the midst of the confusion. She held in her hand the
familiar briefcase I had seen her carrying. She snapped open the lock
and pulled a roll of dimes out of her briefcase. She walked up to
each cell dropped a dime in a slot on the wall and instantly the doors swung
open and the lunatics were released from their cells. We all stood to watch
and wait our turn. The people who had tried digging a tunnel out stopped
their work knowing Pandora would soon release them from their box.
"Gilligan drop that shovel."
BONK! OW!
Bob had reached Schrodinger's cell and grunted as he released his friend
from the iron cage.
"It's incredible", Erwin started, "Despite his loss of meaningful vocabulary,
his mind is revolting against the abnormal behaviour required to sell used
cars."
"Actually", Bob replied, "I haven't been paid for several weeks, so
I trashed Fermi's used car lot as well."
"Well anyway, here comes Jeff now."
"Who?"
"Mr. Brown. I knew he'd come to save us."
I stared at the person I thought was my lovely Pandora. She was a he.
The sickening feeling I had felt at the end of The Crying Game came back to
me with renewed force.
Pandora/Jeff had reached the cell next to where Erwin and Bob stood.
He looked down where Mr. Orange lay on his back.
"Hey, what happened to Winston? He looks like he's been beaten to a pulp!"
"He's a spy!"
"He's a traitor!"
"What?"
"We got your note."
"What note?"
"We were told to watch out for Mr. Orange. Look!"
"No you were supposed to be told to watch out for AGENT ORANGE.
Which is basically bleach and fruit cocktail, but I couldn't get the
right mixture, so I never used it. Anyway, I never sent this note.
Where did you get it from?"
Schrodinger glares at me.
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The Super-Secret Diary of Adrian Mole, Aged 28 1/3
(Segment 19)
EPILOGUE
Cameron Mayor stretched his legs and sat down in his seat on the
Northwest Airlines flight back to Canada. He turned to his friend
and they discussed the pressing matters that weighed on their minds.
"I don't think it's her."
"I tell you she LOOKS like Catherine O'Hara."
"I don't know Cam, I always pictured her as being much taller."
"Yeah, maybe you're right. So how are you doing?"
"Pretty Good."
"You look great. That's a nice black strapless dress."
"Thanks, I borrowed it from SF. I didn't know it would be So Darned Comfy."
"This isn't going to become a habit is it?"
"This could be the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
"You should do something with your hair. You'd look great in
Sharkleberry Fin."
"I'm an autumn, so I think I'd prefer Mountain Berry."
"Whatever. It's good to have you back and ripping off other people's
material."
"Ripping off? You mean I'm not the first person to come up with this
idea?"
A young man in a dark blue suit leaned in.
"Excuse me sir, my Name is Mulder, this is my partner Denise
I'd like to ask you a few questions."
"Go ahead"
"We have chicken or a fish salad for dinner on our flight today.
And what would you like to drink?"
"Could I have a Coke please?"
"Me too."
Cracking open the push tabs they took a long drink from the can and felt
the carbonized tickle at the back of their throats.
"This is the captain speaking. We appear to be encountering some
turbulance. Please return to your seats and stand by. We'll be back on
course shortly."
"You know Cam, everything seems to have turned out all right, but I
just can't shake the feeling that we must have forgotten something........"
Meanwhile, a young Englishman, pimple on his right cheek, stands in
the basement bathroom of a rarely frequented Subway, holding his diary
in his left hand and calls out:
"Hello, Hell-oooooooooo. Anybody? Can somebody spare a dime?
Hello? Hell-oooooooooooooooo."
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Return to The Second Folio
Return to The Sigfile Follies
Return to the Theatre of the Imaginary