The Goats From Gemma Meadows (Part 10)

Part 9 is here.

It was much darker behind that door. Goldberg was glad he had brought the torch, or they probably wouldn't have seen the horrible slobbering monster right in front of them.

He was huge.

He was toothy.

He was, fortunately, chained to the wall.

But he still scared the bejesus out of everyone present. Cliffey was amazed at how accurate Goldberg's description had been: teeth like carving knives, eyes like cannonballs...

Ugh. Breath like the month-old eggs of the dead.

And he looked hungry. His angry, black stare was flitting ravenously between each of three goats, and Cliffey suddenly felt uncomfortably delicious.

Goldberg stepped forward. "Are you the one who turned Joel Fields into the nightmarish postcard from Hell it is today?"

The monster made no sound. He ignored Goldberg completely, and went right on eyeballing the goats. Sarah was concerned that he seemed a little more interested in her than in the other two. She hoped that, if he did eat her, he would swallow her whole. That way she wouldn't have to deal with those gargantuan teeth.

"I asked you a question," said Golberg firmly, pointing his flashlight directly into the monster's eyes. "Was it you? Did you eat all those innocent goats?"

The monster squealed and turned its head away so as to avoid the light.

Pete, who wasn't as scared as his friends but considering he'd already seen the monster was still pretty scared, wondered why the monster didn't say anything. He wondered how the monster was going to eat Sarah and Cliffey, what with being chained to the wall and everything.

And he wondered where the Human-ator was. This cave did look a little different to the one in his dream, and he was sure it was around here somewhere, but it didn't look like there were many places to hide something like that.

He was about to ask the monster where he kept it before he remembered that the others didn't know anything about their little agreement and, well, it was probably best to keep it that way.

"You are the worst thing in the world." Goldberg was addressing the monster again, still aiming the torch at him with one hand, pointing an accusing finger at him with the other. He spoke in a whisper, but it had all the fury of a scream. "I don't know how you got here, but I'm glad that whoever's responsible chained you up in a cave instead of killing you there and then. This way you suffer more."

The goats had never seen Goldberg this angry, and they might have been scared of him were it not for the gigantic goat-eating horror using up most of their fear at that point.

"I suppose you're hungry?" Goldberg continued, and on the word hungry he thrust the torch at the monster as if it were a sword. More agonised squealing. "I suppose you'd like to eat one of them?" He motioned towards the two goats with his pointing hand. "As if you haven't eaten enough goats already. Well these are my goats, and if you want them then you'll have to answer to me! Is that clear? You won't-"

Wait a minute.

Two goats?

Goldberg checked again.

Goldberg took a deep breath.

"Okay," said Goldberg. "Where's he gone now?"

* * *

"Right then. I call this two-thousand, nine-hundred and sixty-fourth monthly meeting of the Troll's League to order. Peikko will now take attendance, please answer your names."

"Thank you, Jo-Tunn. I shan't read your name out, we can all see that you're here."

"Thank you Peikko. Proceed."

"Righto. T'pon?"

"Present, Peikko."

"Thank you, T'pon. I'll just mark you down. Okay. There we are. Now, who's next? Umm...Lesni? Lesni, are you here?"

"Present, Peikko."

"Thank you, Lesni. Let me just put you down. Theeeere we go. Right. Peikko? Oh, silly me. Of course I'm here. Haha!"

The giant crow stood in the corner of the room watched this scene with disbelief.

"I'm sorry, perhaps I didn't make myself clear. One of your number has gone insane. He's a clear and present threat to himself and others. Mostly others. We need to get out and find him!"

"Well quite!" exclaimed Peikko enthusiastically. "Let me just finish the register, and then we'll get right down to business. Now, where were we? Ahm. Lesni?"

"You've already done me, Peikko."

"Oh. Oh! Have I? Well, what a scatterbrain I am. Um...Peikko?"

"Oh, for goodness' sake. Don't you care that one of your men is out there, ruining the good name the Troll's League has made for itself?"

"Indubitably," murmured Jo-Tunn. "But the Troll's League has taken record of attendance at every one of its monthly meetings since we were founded two hundred and forty-seven years ago. Besides, my dear fellow...how are we to know which of our number is missing if we don't take the register?"

"Just look! There's only one empty chair - who usually sits there?"

All the trolls turned to look at the sole unoccupied leather seat. There was a moment of silence before an excited chatter arose from those assembled. The crow couldn't quite hear what any one of them was saying, but he though he heard the name 'Karl' one more than one pair of lips.

Then, suddenly, there was silence again, and the trolls stood up from their chairs.

"Right then. It has been decided that immediate action must be taken. Peikko?"

"Yes, Jo-Tunn?"

"...Bring the register with you. We'll finish it on the way."

* * *

Cliffey and Sarah wandered back out into the passage to look for Pete while Goldberg told the monster off some more. They agreed that they had each done far more looking for Pete today than they had intended to do in their lives, and decided that next time, it was Pete's turn to look for Pete.

It didn't take long to find him - there weren't many hiding places down here, and Pete would have had trouble climbing back to the surface on his own.

But neither of them were sure why, now of all moments, he had decided to take a nap.

TO BE CONTINUED

An Hypothesis

While I was walking the walk described in the latter part of Saturday's blog, I found myself listening to...well, Titus Andronicus, but once that album had finished I decided to give Busted's seminal sophomore effort A Present For Everyone a spin.

And you know how you go to certain bands for certain situations? This was in one of the books I looked at while I was trying to find some literature to review for uni; this one girl in a study never listened to Radiohead unless she was really angry at her in-laws ("We hope that you choke!"). I personally reserve stuff like Manowar for when I want to feel like I could take on the world, but I'm sure you all have your own examples. Well, Busted - while it's true that most of their songs deal with love and related topics - they pretty much have a song for any relationship situation you'd care to name.

For example:

"I am falling in love with you" - Falling For You
"As much as I love having casual sex with you, I want to take our relationship to the next level" - That Thing You Do
"I want to fuck you, but you won't let me" - All The Way
"I want to fuck you, but I'm afraid that pictures of said act will appear in a tabloid newspaper" - Air Hostess
"I want to fuck you, but the age gap is irreconcilable, besides which it may put a strain on our working relationship" - What I Go To School For
"I suspect that I may have been cuckolded" - Who's David?
"Our relationship is ending and I am sad" - Losing You
"Our relationship is ending and I am ambivalent" - Over Now
"Our relationship is ending and I am extremely upset, in a radio-friendly way" - 3am
"I like tits"  - Year 3000
"Alas, you I cannot bring you to climax" - Fake
"Due to our traumatic breakup, I have developed nyctophobia" - Sleeping With The Light On
"I love you, and I fell that my impeccable sense of timing more than makes up for my refusal to seek employment" - Crashed The Wedding
"As supportive as I am of the LGBT community, I am concerned that your recent sex change operation will really put a damper on things" - She Wants To Be Me

Let me know if I've missed any. Sorry Busted if I've interpreted any of your songs wrong, I did go on songmeanings, but that was mostly just people slagging you off.

And sorry readers for posting this instead of an actual blog. Basically I stayed in bed all yesterday.
Joel.

They Walk Among Us

Glancing earlier over the pile of junk mail that's currently carpeting our hallway I came across an envelope addressed to someone named "Fang Fang". This is the second piece of post that Fang Fang has received, and frankly it's starting to worry me.

And my worry is that there's a vampire in the house. You always hope the landlord will fill you in on things like this before you move in, but I guess the sell just comes first nowadays.

Even the letter's sender - S.P. Spyrou - has a pretty vampiric name. Spyrou & Co. claim to be chartered accountants but I suspect this is a cover for some sort of vampire cult. Spyrou is probably head vampire, and is trying to inform our lodger that the time has come to rise up and purge humanity from the Earth's wretched face. In which case humanity is damned lucky that I intercepted this.

But where is he/she/it (there's not even a 'Mr.' or 'Miss' or anything on the envelope; it just says "Fang Fang") hiding? There aren't exactly a wealth of hiding places in this house, and even if Fang Fang were taking refuge in the garage then Pete and Meic would probably have noticed him by now.

Or maybe they already have. Pete has started putting candles out there now - he bought a pack from Spar just yesterday - so perhaps he's befriended our undead stowaway and he's trying to make the atmosphere out there a little more Gothic for him.

I think that's probably it. So the only question that remains is thus: is "Fang Fang" a full name (first name Fang, second name Fang, like the Mario brothers)? Or maybe vampires don't have surnames, maybe they just have these aptronymic, one-word-twice titles.

Like Bam Bam from the Flintstones.

Joel.

After

After waking up on a sofa this morning, I went to Sturff with Sarah, as I often do. A woman came in at one point and wondered rather loudly:

"DO YOU HAVE ANY HOTPANTS?"

Apparently she needed them because her daughter is doing a "show" in Cardiff soon. As I said to Sarah, I tried really hard to think of something innocent that that could have been, but alas, to no avail.

After having lunch in Sturff (reduced BLT, yum), I caught the bus back to Cardiff to meet up with my parents and - this is something I didn't expect to happen today - go to see Guys & Dolls at the New Theatre. It was very good. Not, as my dad pointed out, quite as good as the St. Teilo's production, but still.

After leaving the theatre, I informed my parents that I would be coming home for dinner, but that I would first be popping back to Tewkesbury Place to pick up some CDs. My plan was to get the bus; I went to Churchill Way, but the service had been shuffled around because of the bloody rugby (which Wales didn't even have the courtesy to lose so that I could mock everybody). The notice in the bus shelter told me to go to Dumfries Place; a young African woman with three kids in tow asked me where this was, and I told her that I was terrible at giving directions, and to just follow me.

So I proceeded, with this wary mother and her confused children close behind, to what I hoped was Dumfries Place. It was, and sure enough a number 38 bus soon materialised. I tried to hail it but, well, the driver didn't seem to keen to stop. He made some kind of hand gesture that seemed to suggest I should 'go around', but I wasn't sure what that meant.

So I decided to skip picking up the CDs and head straight to my parents' house. Heading on towards Albany Road so as to avoid facing the family I had dragged to this busless wasteland, I soon realised that Albany Road wasn't where I thought it was in relation to Dumfries Place and ended up going to Tewkesbury Place after all.

Sometimes I genuinely worry that everyone I've ever given directions to has long since perished.

Joel.

P.S. I've decided I will update tomorrow (Sunday), but don't hold your breath because if I'm not feeling particularly lucid then it may just be a crap poem about a tree.

Self-Promotion

Ugh. We're only three days into Lent and already I can't think of anything to talk about. Everyone's already read every single Monthly Scandal, right? That was good, sometimes. It's weird that I called Pete 'Peter' in that last issue though.

But yeah, today marked the end of a rather torrid three-assignment week down at t'Atrium - Monday had me and two others giving a musicological presentation on Bjork, yesterday was a five-hour recording session (although I did bring Jelly Babies to that so it wasn't too terrible), and today was the deadline for our 1,500-word research proposal.

Which, had you knocked on my door at nine o' clock this morning, you would have found me rushing to finish. I could have probably done some work on it last night, but in my defense I'd just come out of a five-hour recording session and Tom and Josh were 'round and they were all like "Oooh Mario Party" and I just can't resist being a dick to Tom through the medium of N64 games so I did that and then I came last anyway so THAT was a huge waste of time.

Not that I'd left the essay 'til the last minute or anything; I was just being a little more daring than usual with my time management.

At any rate, I got it all done, bibliography and all, by about half past one, and Sarah and I promptly dashed (through the medium of a bus) to the Atrium, where I handed it in with time to spare. Sorted.

After that Sarah treated me to a film. We went to see Unknown, with Liam Neeson. I must admit that I was rather 'Taken' with it.

Oh Joel, do stop.

Joel.

The Return

Okay, so I'm back, and hopefully I'll stay back for a little while because I've given up not updating my blog for Lent. So that means delicious updates EVERY DAY from now until Easter (except perhaps Sundays; I haven't decided if Sundays count or not yet)!

Which means I'm going to have to start paying attention to what happens around here. It's going to be weird writing about the house's daily comings and goings again, rather than appearing once a fortnight to post some half-formed short story.

But hey, I managed it before. And it's not like I have any work to do or anything.

See you tommorow, if I can find time between today's five-hour recording session and the research proposal that's due in tomorrow to tap out an update.

No, sorry, no sarcasm. I will.

Joel.

P.S. That secret Tetris screenplay was totally nothing to do with me.

A Message from Blogspot

Howdy folks, hope you had a good Pancake Day. We here at Blogspot like to look after our users, and given the almighty schedule slip that has befallen Cutlery of late, we were concerned about its author, Joel Dear. Is he alright? Has he disappeared off the face of the earth? Perhaps these fears are uncalled for; perhaps he has just gotten lazy, or has decided to actually do his uni work for a change. Nevertheless, it is better to be safe than sorry, and we decided to pay Mr. Dear a visit just to make sure he's okay.

Well, we went to Tewkesbury Place and...he wasn't there. Rest assured we are making serious enquiries into this, but in the meantime, we found a few bits of paper on Joel's desk and we decided to post them here to tide his many fans over until he returns. It seems to be some sort of screenplay in the making, so enjoy. And don't worry; we're sure he's fine...

* * *

NAIVE GRAVITY

We begin our story in a service station café. A hooded figure approaches the counter, where a young female barista has just entered hour eight of her shift. She is clearly in no mood to be trifled with.

Barista: (forcing a smile) What can I get you?
Customer: I don't want any coffee. I just need you.
Barista: I beg your pardon, madam?
Customer: You are Eleanor Gill?
Barista: (smile disappears) ...Nobody's called me that for a very long time.

Cut to an establishing shot of a student house. In the kitchen, we find Joel Dear preparing some sort of delicious meal for two.

Joel: Crap. Our chicken burgers aren't cooked at all, but these potato lattices are already starting to burn.
Stranger: Maybe you should...take the lattices out of the oven.
Joel: But then they'll get cold! Dammit, I am NOT cut out to be a chef.
Stranger: Then perhaps I could offer you a different job. Something...blockier.
Joel: What-

Joel whirls around to find a hooded figure in the kitchen with him.

Joel: What are you doing in my kitchen? State your business!
Stranger: Easy, easy. I'm here to ask you a favour.
Joel: Why should I help you? I don't even know you!
Stranger: You know me, Joel. We've had our...talks in the past.
Joel: I don't remember ever meeting a hooded stranger.
Stranger: Then perhaps you'll remember...(removes hood)...your Head of Sixth Form.
Joel: Miss Mills.
Mills: Mr. Dear.
Joel: You always thought I was useless. What's changed since we last crossed paths?
Mills: The goalposts have moved. Come back to St. Teilo's with me, I'll explain on the way.
Joel: (smirking) Perhaps I don't want to go with you.
Mills: Joel, please. Our altercations are in the past. Besides, we've already got Ellie on board.
Joel: Who's Ellie? I don't know an Ellie.
Barista: (appearing in doorway) Grow up, Joel. This is important.
Joel: ...Herbie?!

Herbie nods.

Cut to interior of Herbie's car. Joel is riding shotgun; Mills occupies the bitch seat, explaining the situation into the front.

Mills: So I guess the first thing I need to do is apologise.
Joel: Really.
Mills: Well, yes. You know how you always spent every spare minute of your time playing Free Tetris instead of revising?
Joel: I don't know why you had that computer in the common room in the first place if you didn't want us to-
Mills: Well it turns out that it wasn't a waste of time. In fact, that was time better spent than any of your lessons.
Herbie: You would say that, you history teacher. We both took arty subjects.
Mills: It doesn't matter what you took. Tetris was more important, even than history.
Joel: What about-
Mills: Even more important than Key Skills.
Joel: ...
Herbie: ...
Mills: It's that important.
Joel: I'm all ears.
Mills: Well, St. Teilo's has been low on funding since the new headmistress came - personally I don't rate her at all - and we're facing closure. We've begged and pleaded with the governers, shown them what good work we're doing, examples of the best students' best work...we've displayed art coursework, held school concerts, one of the sixth formers even gave a maths lecture to a university class-
Joel: And they weren't impressed?
Mills: No. And even the ticket money from the concert is only enough to save...(shudders)...D Block.
Joel: (shudders)
Mills: The head governer's a bit of a gamer, and he's said that he'll only be swayed if we can show him that we produce excellent Tetris players.
Joel: So we just have to beat this old guy's high scores, and the school stays open, is that it?
Mills: It's not just the old guy. He's an old Llanedeyrn alum, you see, and he was so thrilled at the opportunity to close his old rivals that, well, he wanted to make sure he didn't get it wrong.
Herbie: So he's hired a Tetris representative.
Mills: Well actually Ellie...that's not quite correct. I wanted to wait until Joel was here to tell you this, but-
Joel: But what?
Mills: He's got a whole team of them.
Joel/Herbie: (in chorus) What?!
Mills: A crack team of Tetris players. Johnny the Line, Shriekin' Marie Square, both Squiggle Twins, Ess and Zed, Big Bad Bertie Block...he's got all the big names from around the world. Plus this new kid that no-one's ever heard of. But talk in the corridor is that he once cleared five rows with one block.
Herbie: Impossible!
Mills: That's what we thought. But we can't afford to take any chances against these guys, and that's why we came to get you two.
Herbie: Okay. So we're assembling a team to take on his. Who else are we picking up?
Mills: Who else? It's just you and him, my dear girl.
Herbie: Just Joel and me?
Mills: Yep.
Joel: Against...what, six of them?
Mills: You're the school's only hope. I've seen you two play. If you had silly Tetris-related monikers, he'd probably ask you to be on his team as well. You're amazing, and this is your chance to prove it.
Joel: The odds are against us.
Mills: You spent the best part of two years practicing for this, Joel. Don't bottle now.
Joel: ...Herbie? Are you in?
Herbie: I hate to help her out even more than you do, Joel. But it's not for her.
Joel: Well then who is it for?
Herbie: The school. Everyone there. And more than that- it's for the glory.

* * *

And that's where it stops. Maybe we'll see the rest when Joel returns from his hiatus, which we're sure was completely voluntary and will be over before you know it. Personally, I can't wait.

Blogspot Bill.