Chapter The Fourth: Enter The Chorister
Now the group was four, and yet
there was a vital ingredient they needed; an extra something that makes every
tale complete. A je n’ai
“We need a comic sidekick who we can take the piss out of.” observed Cribble.
“Let’s get Edward.” agreed Thom.
So the
quadrant of quorage (Like courage but without beef;
think quorn) set themselves down in the death-copter
and prepared for a trip to Edward’s new address. Only McSean
knew it, because after winning the “World’s Chorister with the most shiny hair”
competition; he had become something of a recluse. He was now living on a
remote
As the ‘copter approached the island, McJack couldn’t help but be drawn to the red button on the dash that had kept flashing for about two hours of this ridiculously long journey. The one reading; “This SkyShip only carries three. Dump your excess person NOW!”
“Ummm, guys…” he asked, before the nosedive took over.
“ARGH!” everyone replied.
* * *
McNedwin was enjoying the finer of life’s arts, when he received an impromptu window, and also, an impromptu Helicopter. He was, in fact, eating pure caviar laced with more caviar, and sipping the finest of the world’s drinks; Coca-Cola. From his own private vault, no less; the original Coca-Cola from 1898 of which only 17 bottles still remain. It also contains cocaine rather than caffeine, which explains why he didn’t immediately get up as his former friends fell slowly out of the windscreen.
“Classy joint you got…” slurred McSean groggily.
“Yeah,” mumbled Thom, “and the scag can’t be bad either.”
McNedwin sighed rather tiredly, and clicked his fingers. “Chantelle, Clarise, could you stop giving me exotic massages and help our unexpected guests up. Then could you make yourself scarce a while…”
Playful winks were emitted, as the two scantily clad leggy honeys left the cavernous drawing room with promises of “We’ll be in the boudoir for later…”
The quartet gasped in astonishment, with many a jaw hitting the African Rhino Skin Carpet.
“How...wha…huh?” uttered the group confusedly.
“They come with the pad.” Purred Eddie, voice like oil on water. “That, and I’m an international sex symbol due to my massive wealth and star status…”
“How come
we didn’t hear of it in
“Well, I’m
an international sex symbol, but only in the country of
“’splain’s it.” said McJack, with nary a hint of jealousy.
“Shut up everyone,” stated McSean bluntly, “The author needs to wrap up Edward joining the team without having to redo the rest of the story again, by saying something along the lines of ‘And with this thusly explained, Edward joined them.’ Or some carp like that.”
“Oh, alright,” blunted everyone stately.
“What?” stunted Edward blately
“Shut up.” blated everyone stuntly.
* * *
And with this thusly explained, Edward joined them. Or would
have, if it wasn’t for 50 khaki suited troopers bearing Klashnikovs
of various varieties storming the