Scooby Doo time. ‘36, 24, 34.’
‘42, 26, 40.’
‘36, 24, 34.’
‘42, 26, 40.’
‘36, 24, 34.’
‘42, 26, 40.’
‘Look; it’s definitely 36, 24, 34.’
‘No. It’s 42, 26, 40. Believe me, Danny, I have a leaflet says so.’
‘You have a leaflet?’
‘I have a leaflet.’
‘I’d like to see that leaflet,’ he said.
‘I bet you would.’
‘I used to have two leaflets,’ he said.
‘That was used to,’ she said. ‘They’ve changed since then.’
‘Since when?’
‘Since whenever.’
‘They’ve changed plenty. They change every six months. A man from the council comes round and paints them white. When he’s done, he goes back to HQ and tells them all about it. They publish it in new leaflets and hand them out to everyone. What that man says is law, Danny. It can’t be changed.’
‘Well, that’s stupid.’
‘It’s still the law.’
Danny and Lucy were at the bus stop, arguing over route numbers. A giant insect appeared at the street’s far end. It carried the Great Osmosis by the scruff of the neck.
On his trolley, Danny craned his neck to see better. And he frowned with recognition. ‘Pedro?’
‘Pedro?’ said Lucy.
‘If not for him and his partner, I’d never have got into this mess in the first place. Quick! Grab him. If we can make him talk
‘That’s no Pedro. That’s my flatmate – Des. He’s been “fixing” my taxi, turning it into the cab of the future, he reckons. You know what it’s come out looking like? A mechanical elk, a mechanical elk with a nodding head and wheels. What does that tell you about him? Maybe this Pedro was just someone who looked like him.’
‘Lucy, he has six arms, and feelers. Even without the sombrero, I recognize him.’
‘You bought aerosols from a seven foot tall ant called Pedro?’
‘Armando said he was a Spanish flea,’ Danny said defensively.
‘And does he look Spanish?’ she asked. ‘I don’t know what expectations you have of the Latin races but, the last spaghetti western I saw, there weren’t many like him in it. “I lost my heart to Juanita with the compound eyes?” I don’t think so. No,’ she said, ‘Forget it. Whoever they were, that pair are long gone, way over the Rio Grande and into the Amazon Jungle. I wouldn’t even bother looking for them.’
Danny watched her. He asked, ‘Aerosols?’
‘Yup?’ Arms folded, rats on head, she watched the ant’s approach.
Danny’s eyes zoomed in on her. ‘Earlier, you said aerosols.’
‘So?’
‘I never mentioned aerosols,’ he said.
‘Course you did, loads of times. You couldn’t stop yourself because it sounds like “arse holes”, and you were always the master of the accidental double-entendre.’
‘Put your finger over your top lip, like it was a fake Zapata moustache,’ he said.
‘Don’t be stupid.’
‘Go on.’
‘No.’
‘Why not?’ he said.
‘Because I won’t. That’s why. No particular reason. No guilt complex. Nothing to hide. It’s just one of the things Lucy Jane Smith doesn’t do.’
‘I don’t believe this!’ he snapped. ‘You sold me toxic waste? What kind of headcase are you?’
She stared at clouds, an eyebrow raised. ‘I haven’t the foggiest to what you’re referring.’
He grunted, wishing the stupid straps weren’t preventing him from wringing her stupid neck.
‘Release me, ignorant buffoon,’ Osmosis ordered the ant, feet flailing several inches above the pavement. ‘The indignity of it, that I, the finest of gentlemen, should have to suffer being dragged around like a commoner. Mark my words, insect; today you have made an enemy of the Great Osmosis. And my enemies have a way of disappearing.’
‘Squeak!’ Cardboard ears standing on end, the rats mountain-goated from Lucy’s shoulders then scurried off down the street, before disappearing round a corner. How could they find talking ants more daunting than a fifteen-ton monster?
Lucy watched them go. ‘Aw shit.’
‘They’ll be back,’ Danny told her. ‘They did last time.’
‘Yeah. And it was you they came back to.’
‘I’m sure it’ll be you next time.’
‘It’d better be. Sparkling Boy.’
‘Lucille.’ Destructor approached. ‘I have captured the man who brought you such distressed remorse at having caused the potential demise of a friend.’
‘Distressed?’ Amused, Danny gazed up at her, accusingly. ‘Friend?’
She shrugged dismissively, arms folded, eyes on her new flatmate. ‘He’s just some cockroach. Like he’d know distress when he sees it.’
‘But, Lucille,’ it said. ‘You were weeping.’
‘I was laughing.’
‘But you said …’
‘Shut it, bug eyes.’
And Danny grinned.
So Lucy punched his head.
So Danny grinned more.
So Lucy punched his head more.
So Danny stopped grinning.
So Lucy stopped punching his head.
Now Osmosis was held before them, a naughty child awaiting punishment.
Lucy stepped forward, prodding the entrepreneur’s chest, staring up at his bucket. ‘So,’ she said, ‘What do you have to say for yourself. Mr Osmosis?’
‘My dear girl, your rent is due to be tripled. Release me, and it shall subsequently be halved by three and one eighth per cent.’
‘Gee. Thanks. You don’t think you should apologize to Danny first?’
‘For?’
‘For trying to kill him.’
‘Never. The poltroon destroyed my shop. And I shall destroy him.’
‘Fair enough.’
‘Who is this clown anyway?’ asked Danny.
‘The Great Osmosis,’ she said. ‘You used to work for him before your coma. You probably don’t remember, rubble to the head, and all that.’
‘No. I mean, who is he really, beneath the bucket? It’s time we found out.’
Then Lucy said, ‘He’s your father.’
‘What?’
‘Osmosis is your father.’
‘Who says?’
‘It always is; in films and plays and books. On the second last page, it always says. It was … his father.’
‘That’s ridiculous. My dad’s in New Zealand, with my mum, raising sheep.’
‘So he told you.’ She turned to the insect. ‘Go ahead. Mandibles, whip off the bucket. I won’t be wrong.’
‘Why would my dad want to kill me?’ asked Danny.
‘Why wouldn’t he?’
‘Because he’s my dad. Dads don’t kill their sons. They take them to football matches and fishing, and ruffle their hair on the way home.’
‘Luke Skywalker’s didn’t ruffle his hair,’ she countered.
‘Darth Vader was hardly a model of normal parenthood.’
‘But look at Osmosis. Spot the resemblance? The helmet, the cod mysticism.’
‘Well what’s your dad do?’ Danny demanded of her.
‘He’s a ninja.’
‘A ninja?’
‘Yeah.’ She shrugged. ‘There’s nothing wrong with that. It’s a job.’
‘Lucy, no one’s dad is a ninja.’
‘Mine is. My mum told me. That’s why I’ve never seen him. Ninja’s have the power of invisibility. Besides, he has to keep a low profile. He’s protecting the emperor of Japan from the forces of anarchy. But one day, when his job’s done, he’ll return to England. The Japanese call him the Ginger Ninja and he’s practically a legend.’
Danny just looked at her, finally asking, ‘So why can’t Osmosis be your father?’
‘Yeah. Like I’m going to be the offspring of some loopy-fruit.’
‘A ninja’s more likely to be a would-be killer than a sheep farmer is.’
‘Wanna bet?’
‘Damn right I do.’
‘A tenner says it’s your dad,’ she said.
‘Fifteen says it’s yours,’ he said.
‘What if it’s the insect’s dad?’
Danny studied the wavy-feelered creature, deciding, ‘He pays us.’
‘Done,’ she said.
‘You have been,’ said Danny.
She nodded to Destructor. ‘Okay, whip off the bucket.’
Two insect arms held Osmosis. And two others began to lift the Helm of Mystery, ignoring all struggles and protests.
‘No, no, release me. A man’s head is between him and his shoulders.’ The entrepreneur back-kicked one of Destructor’s armoured shins, to no avail.
The lid flipped open, smoke pouring out.
And Lucy wafted away the last smoke wisps, to reveal …?
…?
…?
Nothing; just a deflating suit, the telephone engineer’s uniform crumpling in Destructor’s arms, unsupported by any contents.
Danny frowned.
Lucy leaned forward, gazing down into the suit, before turning to Danny and asking, ‘That your dad?’
‘Lucy, there’s nothing but smoke.’
‘So? I don’t know what your dad looks like. There’s no law says he has to resemble you. My dad looks like David Carradine. You should see the photo Mum took of him, from a TV monitor, kicking some cowboy types’ heads in. No resemblance to me at all.’
Danny watched the crumpled uniform. ‘Can you believe it? A man so consumed by ambition that, by the end, only ambition remained.’
‘You know, Dan, only you could deliver that line without getting embarrassed.’
The insect was looking concerned. ‘Lucille?’
‘Yup?’
‘Does this fate befall all in this world who have too much ambition?’
‘Damn right it does. And don’t forget it.’
Danny didn’t know why she’d told him that, but then he never knew why she did anything. Clearly, an end like this could only befall a king-size pillock like Osmosis.
Nonetheless, the insect looked concerned.