An Early Childhood Chapter 20 Part 2

Chapter 20: A bit of spillage and a whole lot of problems (Part 2)

Continued from Chapter 20 Part 1.

Act II – Scene II

EXT A STREET - 1987 – AFTERNOON

HUNT AND DRAKE EMERGE, SPRINTING, ONTO THE STREET FROM A SIDESTREET.

HUNT

So that’s the end of that, then.

DRAKE

Looks like it’s back to our boring old lives. (SIGHS.)

HUNT

I’ll miss him.

DRAKE

Me too. (PAUSE.) He was very sexy.

SUDDENLY, FLANAGAN COMES SPRINTING OUT FROM THE SAME SIDESTREET, BREATHING HEAVILY.

FLANAGAN

Hunt! Drake! I’m back!

DRAKE (EXCHANGES GLANCES WITH GENE)

No…we just sent you home in a car.

FLANAGAN

You sent me home – but now I’m back again!

HUNT (THUMBING AT THE PATCH OF TARMAC.)

No…we only sent you back two minutes ago.

FLANAGAN (LOOKING AT EACH OF THEM)

Are you…are you sure?

DRAKE

Yeah. Do you not remember? You just shagged Gene’s car back to your timeline?

FLANAGAN

Oh. (A LITTLE DISAPPOINTED.) Okay then. Right, well…see you then.

HUNT

All the best, Jippy!

(BLACK AND WHITE FLASHES START TO FILL FLANAGAN’S FORM AS HE WALKS BACK INTO THE SIDESTREET WITH HIS HEAD DOWN. HE EMERGES AGAIN A MOMENT LATER, HIS FACE GLOWING AND FLASHING WHITES AND BLACKS.)

FLANAGAN

Are you…are you sure?

HUNT AND DRAKE

Yes, we’re sure!

FLANAGAN

Okay. Bye.

(HE DISAPPEARS INTO THE ALLEYWAY. A BLUE FLASH ILLUMINATES THE SIDESTREET.)

            With Floudh Rak the weatherlock thumping on the front door, Billy Boy and Melanie crouched down behind the curtains.

            “Maybe Paddy’s escaping Tír Na nÓg by car. Coz he went in via the railway system at Pearse Station, and maybe the public transport infrastructure isn't highly developed in some places over there,” Billy said.

Pearse Street Station. Photo courtesy of Rob Ketcherside

              He went into the hallway and - as my arm was emerging from the picture that he had doodled - he gave the clipboard a little rub.

            “There’s a great clipboard, you’re doin’ brilliant,” he said in a sing song tone.

            “What are you doing?” asked Melanie the chimpanzee.

            “I read somewhere that a few words of encouragement and soft sounds will often help a whelping clipboard through the pains of labour,” Billy explained. 
                He scrambled back to the curtains and peered out the window.

            Outside, Floudh Rak had unsheathed his sword. With its hilt, he hammered into the door, which started to splinter.

            “What are we going to do about Paddy?” Melanie asked.

            My arm was emerging from the clipboard.

            In a flash, the door smashed open and I was standing in the hallway - having emerged from the clipboard - very tired in my leather flight jacket. I smashed my shoulder into the wall in pain, and then the other wall, a discharge of ectoplasmic energy sparking off the walls with my body's shading altering, flashing black and white now and then. I whipped off my jacket and threw it to the carpet. In my white tee shirt, in immense pain, my hair still in an 80s quiff, I staggered and stumbled off the walls like your typical Irishman.

            Floudh Rak roared as he saw me, and raised his sword to charge and run me through. I fell to my knees in submission, clamping my hands in front of me in prayer. I closed my eyes. It was then that a massive lightning bolt shot out of my arms, engulfing the evil weatherlock.
           "AAAaaaarrggghhhhh!!!" he roared and he disappeared.

            The room went unusually dark. There was a smell of burnt hair and farts.

            “What the hell just happened?” Billy Boy wanted to know.

            “There was still too much residual energy from the inter-dimensional time-travel,” I explained. “I’ve just released it.”
             “Did you just fart?” Billy asked.

             “No,” I replied, trying to explain. “That's the after-echo effects of the ehhh... the inter-dimensional transfer.”

             “Did you just fart?” Billy asked again.
              “Yip,” I replied.
            “And is Floudh Rak gone?”

            “He’s gone for now, anyway,” I replied. “I didn't mean to do that, shooting bolts out of my hands. I don't really know what happened myself. And who’s to say when he’ll turn up again?”
             And who was to say indeed, says I to you?

To be continued in Chapter 21.