THE VILLAGE : Part 33 - Just Add Water.

These are some modern terraced cottages in Perranarworthal, Cornwall. The building was originally a foundry, which has been turned into something unique. I'm not 100% sure I like the look to be honest. Two for the price of one though. A uniquely Cornish place name and some radically designed cottages. There is also a pub nearby called Norway Inn. Get it? There's hardly any point going there because there's Norway Inn, aren't puns shit.

(The copyright for this image is the property of Prime Location)

As the village hall emptied Michael had a vivid premonition of his own death. It would happen in his own home, shortly after he'd tied the noose to the upstairs banister. This was good to know. Actually he was quite looking forward to it. Before he hanged himself he'd write a very long, extremely bitter suicide note listing everyone he despised and the reasons why. The day hadn't been a complete loss then. Now he waited. He had no idea why he did so, apart from not being told what to do next. What had this all been about? It was perverse even for St Erile. Crazy things happened here every day. The place was full of eccentrics who would have been committed to lunatic asylums in any other jurisdiction. They were all essentially harmless loonies but they were loonies nonetheless. Half a day spent going through their medicine cabinets would set you up for life. Both financially and pharmaceutically.

The baying mob dispersed slowly through the exit. His three nemesises, or was that nemesi it could be nemeses though, waited with him. According to the sentence, which once again he reminded himself had no foundation in law, he was to be arbitrated no less. That sounded like it might sting a bit. Arbitration was negotiation by another name. Was he any good at negotiating? Hard to say. Whatever skill in the art he might have possessed hadn't been used for a very long time. Sophie would have demands. They would be entirely unreasonable and impractical. The whole show trial might have been purely to put him off balance so he'd be less resistant to Sophie's stipulated requests. This would be the talk of the village for a few decades. Unless he could manufacture something their pea brains would find more shiny and attractive. Only problem being he'd have had to act fast. Knock this from their heads before it had time to sink in and become a local legend. Once that happened, usually in less than a day, it would assume Lord of the Rings proportions, though it would contain less truth.

Wait a moment. He'd just had a thought. One, that unlike every other thought he'd had, was relevant and useful. There was a way out of this. It would be worth a shot. Even knowing that they'd eventually track him down. It would be his last hurrah. A way of making this a lot harder than it needed to be. Basically all it would achieve would be to mess up their schedule. Almost everybody had wandered off now. They had people to do and things to see. Tall Girl was heading back to turn down that casserole. His three nemeses, that had to be right it was from the Greek, would have other things that needed doing. Darcy would have to collect Emma from wherever she was at the very least. He couldn't escape exactly but he could make this more inconvenient for them. Cool and calm. No need to hurry. Act as if this was nothing special. Behave as though his motives were anything other than ulterior. He should stroll, or perhaps saunter, almost aimlessly. Michael stood up very carefully. Knocking the card table over would heighten their awareness. He eased himself from behind and underneath it. Straightening up casually. Straightening his clothes. Now one foot nonchalantly in front of the other.

"Where do you think you're going?" Doogie demanded with menaces.
"I didn't realize you were still here guys." Michael equivocated. "Thought you and the Doidge would be over at the pub, where you always are every single weekend without fail."
"I asked you where you're going."
"Nowhere?" He pretended mild offence.
"I don't believe you."
"Why ever not?"
"You said "guys", you never use that word without air quotes or sarcasm."
"I could well ask why you're here. You know. The pub. Beer. Friendly company. You could be on your second pint by now. Talking about.... whatever it is you and Doidge talk about."
"We're the prisoner escorts."
"What?" Michael exclaimed aghast. "I don't need an escort. On my honor, I wouldn't try to escape."
Doogie and Doidge burst out laughing.
"Nice one. We all know you haven't got any honor."
"That's harsh. True, but harsh. Besides how would little old me escape anyway? The ladies will no doubt be coming along with me. They'll be with me the moment I step outside that door."
"Well partly it's purely for appearances sake. Mostly we're here to prevent you sneaking to the toilets and climbing out the window."
"Damn, how did you guess?"
"It's pretty much the only option available in this situation. I know for a fact Steph and Sophie can outpace you over any distance you can think of, even wearing heels. I don't think I've ever seen you hurry let alone run."
A last desperate gamble was needed.
"Come on. It's all the lads together. Bro's before hoe's right?"
Both Doogie and Doidge looked offended. That was another first.
"That's low. I'm not sure I even know you anymore. I mean that was almost tacky, it was that bad mate."
"But why are you doing this? Wasting valuable drinking time, that you will never get back. Imagine the amount of alcohol you're missing out on."
"Doidge is doing it for Stephanie and I'm doing it for pay."
Michael became very reasonable.
"Oh shit. I thought he was very quiet. Has he still got that little problem with Steph? That's a shame. I really feel for you Doidge. Anyway Doogie, whatever they're paying you I'll double it. If you come with me and give me a boost I'll bung you an extra ten. Doidge is pretty much mute anywhere in the vicinity of Stephanie. If he tries to tell them it will only end in a very long game of charades. What do you say?"
"I say no. I really am a man of honor and I gave my word. Besides I'm not being paid in cash. I'm being paid in kind and I very much doubt you could double what I'm getting. Not without gender reassignment surgery and a personality transplant."
Several thoughts exploded simultaneously inside his shattered mind.
"They're buying you off with sex?" Wasn't the one he should have chosen to express.
"Get your mind out of the gutter, you piece of shit."
"That came out wrong. I was pondering what you might have accepted as payment. That was one of the options. When you didn't state what you were being paid with I tried to guess. I mean if it's a secret then I'll let you keep it."
Doogie grunted and huffed before lowering his voice.
"I got an invite to a regimental do. Darcy has agreed to be my plus one."
This puzzled Michael a bit.
"You needing a date is... unusual. You never exactly have a shortage of female company in my experience."
"Yeah but this is dress uniform posh. Each and every one of those women is special to me but they'd all be a bit out of place. I need a woman who can hold an intelligent conversation and her drink and not one who gets pissed on the free booze and falls over with her tit hanging out. Not that there's anything wrong with that. In the right circumstances it has its merits."
"I could do that, but I see what you mean. You coming out at the regimental dinner would spoil it for anyone else who was trying to make an impression. Good call. I definitely, desperately need a piss now."
"That will have to wait we're leaving now." Stephanie announced.
"Ah well. Life has needlessly kicked me in the nuts yet again. Where are we headed?"
"We're going round to yours. Because that's where they left all the beers." Steph replied.
"You bastards." Michael chided.

They set off immediately. The three women taking the lead, with Doogie and Doidge bringing up the rear. He'd been resigned to his fate before. Now he was resigned to being resigned. There's a subtle difference that only a real expert could detect. Now he would be able to pretend he was interested in finding out what would happen full time. That Stephanie was still carrying a briefcase and files was troubling. Although their only purpose might be to disturb him even more. A lot of work and planning had gone into this in a short space of time. It was inescapable, given the days events, that more than one person had been involved. It was still bloody impressive though. Nobody was saying a word. There was a part of him that welcomed this. They weren't crowing about their victory or anything. There was another part of him that wanted to deliver witty one liners, wit was in the eye of the beholder after all. A third bit needed to say something. It would be like the famous last words of a famous person. Strike that. He could pretend it was like that. After some thought he couldn't come up with his last words. All the best ones has already been taken.

"Doogie, whatever happened to Dried Fruit Dave? I haven't seen or heard from him for a while now."
"Christ mate, he's been dead for years. We went to his funeral."
"Really? I don't remember that. What did he die of anyway?"
"Shit, it made all the local papers and a couple of the nationals. First man ever to be desiccated to death in his own home. Turned all his fruit dehydrators up to full and fell asleep in front of the fire. Never woke up. Next thing you know he's been mummified. They had a hell of a job getting him out of the chair and into a coffin I can tell ya. Had to snap his legs off."
"Now you say that I do have a dim recollection."
"Oh ya do, do ya. You were the one ordered his tombstone. Name, date of birth, date of death and "Just add water". You're lucky everybody thought he was a prick."
Michael face palmed.
"Oh now I remember. In my defense that was intended as a joke."
"Yeah. It was funny. I know I laughed. Still it was how he'd have wanted to go."
"Do you think so."
"Do I balls. That man had a lot more dried fruit left in him. That's not something you can say about many people."
"Just the one I'd imagine. He could have branched out into dried meats and whatever else you can dry."
"No. Dave was strictly a purist. Dried fruit or nothing. He'd never have dabbled in jerky. That wasn't how he rolled."
"I've just had another random thought."
"Oh you mean there's someone else's funeral you've forgotten."
"No. I was just thinking this will be the first time the six of us have all been together socially. Sort of socially."
"Not happening mate." Doogie indicted Doidge with his eyes. "We'll be in the garden quaffing beers like there's no tomorrow. Got some catching up to do. In fact, here we are at yours. He's all yours ladies."

They entered his house and immediately headed for the kitchen where Doogie and Doidge emptied the refrigerator of anything alcoholic. Then carried their heavy load out into the back garden. He was alone with his nemeses, all three of them. Aware that originally Nemesis was an agent of the Greek gods who dished out divine retribution to those guilty of the sin of arrogance. And that this retribution was always deserved and unavoidable. He agreed he did deserve this, or something similar. That didn't mean he had to like or enjoy it. Sophie broke the silence.

"Come one Michael. Haven't you had fun today? Didn't you find it funny?"
"Um. No. It would only have been funny if it was happening to someone else. So ladies, girls, wimmin three against one, how will this proceed?"
Steph snorted derisively.
"Bugger that. Darcy and I will be out in the garden necking booze from this point onward. We'll be keeping an eye on you both but it's best the employer and employee straighten this out between the two of them. I'm hoping Doidge will drink enough so he'll actually speak to me. Oh God I could ride him to hell and back. Only I don't want to spoil his inflated opinion of me. Not until I've snagged him anyway. Have you any idea how long it is since I've had a good seeing to? Two frigging years! My mothers family are so old school that if I'd smiled at an eligible man they'd have married me off in a second." Stephanie dropped the files and briefcase onto the kitchen table. "It's all there. Now it's up to you to thrash this out."
"What are we going to thrash out precisely?" Michael asked.
"Sophie, who is temporarily speechless, wishes to clarify what she can and cannot do. You see Michael, she's a creature of joy and happiness. You are a miserable bastard with only one way of doing anything. The wrong way. The first pages are a list of all the characters she's thought up. Ones that she can use at work. You will have to agree between you which ones are permitted. Then Sophie can try, God bless her optimism, to inject some fun into... You forgot Dried Fruit Dave's funeral for fuck sake. Dad told me it was hilarious. The coffin rattled. You could have carried it under one arm. I've said too much already. Darcy, let's go and get shit faced."
They left. Sophie was still silent. A tiny smile on her pretty face. Michael opened the first file and scanned a very long list of different costumes.
"You definitely cannot do a musketeer."
"Why not?" She asked innocently.
"There's the really sharp sword for a start. And the fucking enormous musket. Which knowing you will be 100% accurate and 100% genuine."
"Damn. I thought you'd only know about the fictional ones. That's not bad though. Only one you find objectionable so far."
"Oh fuck no. Optimus Prime? How would that even work? We are not having any Transformers on the library van. Please tell me you haven't got the costume yet."
"It's on the drawing board. Turned out to be a lot more complicated than I'd first thought. Still I'm fine with that. There will definitely be no Transformers on the library van."
Michael eyed her suspiciously. Sophie was being far too accommodating here.
"And no Decepticons. In fact nothing of a robotic or transformative nature. You'll take someones eye out. Mine most likely. Like I said, that would only be funny if it happened to someone else."
"You really know how to squeeze all the fun out of everything don't you."
"And what pray tell is a Pikachu?"
"He's a Pokemon. Lovely, cuddly yellow monster."
"Right. We'll put that one on provisional hold until I can research the subject. Which I will do. Now.... Holy crap Sophie. Edward Scissorhands? Why on earth?"
"It's for the kids."
"We don't carry a lot of children's books."
"Correction. We didn't carry a lot of children's books. It's about time we diversified. Kids need books. Tablets and readers are all very well but books are something special."
"Have you got any others like that? For the kids I mean."
"Yes. I was thinking Freddie Kruger and that one out of Saw. I forget his name."
"You don't do you. You're hoping I won't know it so it'll slip through."
"You can't blame a girl for trying."
"Before you tell me the name of the Saw one, they aren't going in you know, so I can strike it off; among the charges I was found guilty of was internet grooming. When did I do that precisely?"
Sophie winked suggestively.
"I'm the horny, sexually confused 12 year old, you know as Princess Celestia."
"No. Never heard of you."
"Shit. If you're not Captain Huge Penis, then who have I been sending naked pictures to?"