MAL, MADNESS AND ME

We picked Mal up near the northern exit on
the London Orbital, the good old M1!
"Where 'ave ye been? It's freezin'!"
He moaned and nagged, he was dressed boy-wise
in a chavtastic tracksuit with bling style necklaces.
I noticed a particularly cute one that said Bugger.
"Oh look at yew!" He laughed at my filthy scrubs.
"Ya look like a used tampon!"
"That's enough of that!" Said Catherine:"She might be
a filthy little baggage, but please don't talk so rough!"
"Oh mai god! It's Bette Davis!" Teased Mal.
Alan snorted in the front and Patrick slept on,
blissfully unaware of any kerfuffle.
"Did you phone Raine? What did she say?" I cringed and
waited for the answer.
Mal pulled a wry face:"Nothing to worry about hin, forget
it, she's ok, well when she discovers her powers of speech
and loses the Tourettes."
I pulled a face at Alan, god it was turning into rent-a-mime.
"Look do you really think I am going to drive all the way
to Scotland, then you are sorely mistaken." Grumbled Alan.
"Well you will be pleased to know Aye have booked us
into a Travel Lodge just outside Nottingham!" Said Mal
thrilled with himself.
"What a ghastly place!" Snarled Catherine.
"I'm not driving all that way! You can take over Mal."
"Nooo way!" Said the camp Hebridean.
"I'll drive." I said firmly.
"Oh for fucksake!" Said Alan.
"No I shall drive." Said Catherine firmly.
"Over my dead body!" Said Alan:"I can smell the alcohol
on you!"
"What are you implying young man?" Catherine sharply
yanked Al's hair making him swerve wildly.
"Leave the hair alone! Becka drive, please, as long
as I don't have to sit next to her."
"Aye hate this journey." Whined Mal. Jesus he had been
in the car for all of ten minutes! He was right though, it
was crap.
We pulled in a layby, Mal sat next to me, in the back
Patrick was propped up like a corpse between Catherine
and Alan, like the Berlin wall only British and still standing.
"Right." I said and gingerly turned the key:"Been a long
time since I've driven a car, but hey it's like riding a
bike isn't it?"
In the back I could see Alan reflected in my mirror
silently screaming.

Becka M

LOW DOWN ON THE HIGH ROAD

"Talk sense!" Said Alan:"You people are driving me
crazy! How the hell are we going to get him to South
Africa? Do you lot not even think for a second that
Airports and the like are the first place the police
will look for you?"
I patted his back:"Calm down sweetie, we are just
talking things through, nothings set in stone." I said
soothingly, it didn't work as he gave me a look from
hell.
Catherine spoke up, in the quavering tones of somebody
in the throes of a hangover.
"If Patrick wants to go to South Africa then that is where
he shall go! Obviously not tonight, we have connections,
maybe something could be arranged........" She looked at
me glassily:"Young woman can you please get this man
to pull over as I am going to be sick..."
"Shit!" I yelped and before I could relay anything to
Alan, she was promptly sick on the back of his head.
"What the fuck!" He bellowed:"Oh no!"
Patrick slept on, Catherine moaned and held her stomach,
I laughed insanely and Alan swore.
"Fuck fuck fuck fuck!"
Then my mobile sounded to the fab sound of Goldfrapp-
Ooh La La.
It was Mal.
"Ye dead?" He said.
"Um no, just a bit preoccupied."
"Well why have'n Aye heard from you for forty four years
or there abouts?" He sounded most put out.
"Listen Mal I am in a heap of smelly shit getting smellier
by the second." I glanced at Catherine:"I'll tell you what
happened."
As I told him he kept saying:"You don't say!"
Or
"No!"
Again and again.
Quite tiresome.
"Yes Mal I am saying and implicitly-yes!"
"Well you are up the swannie! Listen hinnie, maybe
I might be able to help. Aye have a holiday lodge in Inverness,
small place, quite quaint, near Loch Ness-it's yours."
"Mal if you were not fucking gay I would fuck you!"
The man was a marvel a bloody marvel.
"Charming." Said Catherine.
Alan rolled his eyes, Patrick stirred and chucked.
"Better then that Aye shall meet ye somewhere........."
We began to arrange details.
"Oh and Mal, bring me some clothes I'm filthy!"
"Will do."
"And phone Raine."
"On to it."
"And." I was rudely interrupted.
"Becka get off the fecking phone, I'm trying to pack!"
Becka (Fugitive) M

WAKE UP AND SMELL THE HOO-HA

"Where to hot Mama?" Said Alan in a faux
Hispanic accent (just why he said it quite like
that was beyond me). Mind you I could have
been hallucinating again, don't call me mad for
nothing you know!
"I don't know, I'm just so pleased we got out
of there! What do you think Catherine?"
"I think my husband is waking up." She stroked
his cheek and yes Patrick's eyelids were fluttering
like butterflies.
"Patrick!" I bellowed into his ear.
"He is not deaf you know!" Hissed Catherine.
"I am now." Mumbled Patrick.
Alan nearly crashed the car, we swerved perilously
like the fugitives we were.
"Alan! Chill pill!" I snapped.
"Fuck off!" He shouted back cheerily, love this man's
bones I do.
"What is going on? I'm not dead yet am I?" Said Patrick.
"No, you are in hell with me and your lunatic bastard
daughter, she duffed up that Copper you know, Straw."
When she said Straw I'm sure I could see her eyes
glisten, dirty old cow.
"Did she?! Well done, don't worry I was on to him
all the while." Patrick yawned and I was impressed
to see that he had nearly all his own teeth, rich bastards
good teeth, no morals.
"I love you Pa, I really thought you would die and you
are in sooo much trouble." I realized I was crying
when tears dripped onto Patrick's pale face, Catherine
watched us like a sphinx (only she was smaller and
not Egyptian).
"Sorry to break up the hearts and flowers!
This is not going to last long if we don't have a plan,
tell me where I'm going! Mickey Straw will wake
soon, shit will hit the fan and the Cops will be crawling,
not to mention the Press." Said Alan in his usual
dramatic way.
"Take me home." Said Patrick.
"Home? Are you crazy, that's the first place the Police
will look!" Hissed Witch Wife from hell.
"I mean South Africa." Said Patrick and you could see
he was already there, glass in hand looking like the
Man from Delmonte and smuggling something
naughty down his trousers.
"I don't have enough petrol for that!" Laughed Alan.
But Patrick was serious.
This was not going to be easy!
Becka M

ALAN'S IN

It was going well, I'd probably lost a couple of
pounds because of acute stress but everything
seemed to be going swimmingly.
My heart was dancing in my chest like Ricky Martin
(Hey another Martin!)
Nursie had checked Patrick who said that he
was fine, I'd managed to pull Mickey out of
the wheelchair and prop him up against the side
of the bed (he looked cute-like a gorilla) and
we had maneuvered Patrick into the wheelchair.
He did not look good, but he was breathing.
"Right." I said and running a hand through my
hair was surprised that it was wet with sweat.
With my yucky scrubs and sweaty hair, I looked
like I had just finished a long shift.
Catherine however looked blonde and icy cool,
she did not sweat, instead small particles of talcum
powder oozed from her skin, or maybe it was just
dust.
"Right indeed, we are all going to prison you
know?"
"Yeah I know." I smiled:"But look at it this way,
if Patrick's secret makes the paper, this is going
to make us notorious! This Morning, Paul Grady,
Richard and Judy are going to be begging us for
interviews!"
"Shallow bitch." Said a familiar voice, turning I saw
Alan standing in the corner like Death, he just needed
a scythe.
"Oh!" I said.
Alan's eyes flickered across to Mickey and he scowled.
"That fucking cunt!" He hissed and punched the
slumbering policeman in the side of his head.
"Hey!" I protested.
"Just making sure he stays that way, can't we push
him out the window?"
"No!" Said Catherine and me in unison.
"Will you explain to me what you are doing, or is
that going to be too hard for you both?" He crossed
his arms and looked completely pissed off with
me.
"Everything will be explained, but later, just now we
need you to go get the car."
"You are killing my brain." He nagged. But being Alan,
shuffled off, sexy and compliant.
I tucked Mickey into the bed and looked into his
slack unconscious face, still a smashing geezer.
Catherine stared at him:"If I was only twenty years
younger." She said sadly.
"Oh I don't think Mickey is ageist. Come on we are
on the home stretch." Was this wishful thinking or
what!
In my head I could see Patrick on a beach somewhere
nice laughing about all this.
In my head I also could see me and Alan fucking
like dogs in an alley (but that was just too distracting).
"Come on, we are good to go. Oh and Catherine, thanks."
She said nothing, but her small pursed lips flexed
slightly so I assumed she was smiling.

Becka M