The Mighty Boots

AN: Hm, methinks I have a too many stories happening at once. Mr Writer's Block has packed his bags and finished renting out my mind tank (he's made a right mess of the place, if he wants to come by again- as he often does- he's gonna need to buck his ideas up), and now the ideas are coming at me like a speeding wigwam.

Disclaimer: I do not own the Boosh, alright, squire?

On the planet Xandeel, King Vance trekked through the vast deserts in search of his royal boots with only a talking bird with a long, hooked, pointy beak and a polo mint over one eye for company. No one knew why the bird talked or where it had come from and it was a scary subject best left avoided. If it decided to fly around with you for the day it was best to go along with it. At least that was what most of the people did, the ones that didn't had mysteriously disappeared.

'We have been walking for hours,' Vance sighed, running a hand through jet black hair.

'Why'd you take the boots off in the first place, y' damn fool?' The bird asked, ruffling its scruffy black, silver and green feathers.

'My toes were itchy,' Vance answered, simply.

'Y' toes were itchy?' the bird cawed, 'Me bloody beak's itchy but I didn't throw that down in the sand and start scratching at it, did I?'

'That is because you cannot,' Vance answered, gazing out at nothing but red sand.

'If I could I can assure I wouldn't, boy,' the bird answered, 'There's a lot o' bad types in this area, thieves so fast you don't even see 'em coming. You'd better watch y' wallet,'

'Bad types?' Vance scoffed, 'Thieves? Ha! As if there are going to be thieves in the middle of the desert! Who are they going to steal from, the sand fleas?' Still laughing he took out his wallet and waved it in the air, but the laugh soon turned into a gasp when it disappeared from his fingers.

'Wrong, boy,' the bird replied, 'it looks as if you're their main target,'

Meanwhile, at the tiny little village where the king had come from, his subjects were starting to panic. Or rather, they were holding a 'discussion' about who should be leader during the King's absence.

'I should be leader, for I am the smallest!'

'Backwards logic! I should be leader; I am the tallest!'

'I will be leader, for I am champion bogrunner!'

'Halt!' Tyver, an inhabitant who had appointed himself leader quite long before anybody else had started arguing, raised his hand, 'I am leader! I am the prettiest, I am the wisest and I have eyes in the back of my head; stand over there so I can see you. Tell me, what is a bogrunner?'

Whilst all of that had been happening, back at the Nabootique, Howard and Vince had been getting ready for a gig.

'Vince,' Howard called, leaning against the counter where Naboo was sat pawing through a Xooberonian TV Times, 'I understand that you wanna look good but we've now only got minutes to get down to the Velvet Onion sir!' his phone began to ring and he had to bite back the punctuality lecture on the tip of his tongue to answer it, 'Hello?'

'Jeez, Moon!' it was Fossil, 'Holy shoes! Where in peas and crackers with an itty bitty cherry on the top are you guys! I wanna see your gargantuan ass and Vincey's cute little pinchable one down here nooooooooooow!'

Howard managed to get, 'We're on our way,' out of his mouth before Fossil slammed the phone down.

Minutes later Vince danced his way into the shop, all glitter and make-up and shiny things.

'Alright?' he grinned, forgetting and reaching up to fuss with Howard's hair.

'Don't touch me sir! We're gonna be late!'

'Alright, chill out,' Vince danced backwards and held out his other hand, which contained an amulet swinging from a chain, 'Oy Naboo, can I borrow this just for today?'

'Don't touch that!' Naboo waved the TV Times at him, making him stumble backwards into Bollo who was on his way in, ''Ave you been going through my stuff again, Vince? That don't even belong to me I'm mindin' it for someone,'

Vince, having been made to put the amulet back, skulked back up the stairs to do so, followed by Howard who had managed to be convinced by Vince to change his hat, because it was 'well ugly'. They had been making their way into the flat, squabbling about those reasons when Howard tripped, grabbing onto Vince for support, sending them both toppling over.

Hearing the thud on the ceiling below, Naboo looked up briefly from the TV Times, cocking his head to the side, eyebrows raised.

'Strange,' he said.

'Probably Vince and Howard,' Bollo told him, but as he cast his blue eyes over to his master, he saw that the shaman had already gone back to reading the TV Times.

'N-n-no,' Naboo muttered dismissively and hastily, 'I mean this; there's a double bill of Peacock Dreams on Thursday but not on Friday. They always do one on Friday as well,'

There was a moment of silence, not a sound except for the tick-tock of the temperamental cuckoo clock.

'Uh, Naboo?'

'What, Bollo?'

'Vince and Howard okay?'

Naboo sighed, having to look up from his reading again, 'Why don't you go an' find out? An' stick the kettle on afterwards,'

Just seconds later, Bollo called down:

'Ballbags gone. So is amulet... I gotta bad feeling about this...'

When Howard Moon began to wake up, he thought he was still in bed, everything seemed warm and familiar- the calming sounds of birds twittering in the trees outside, the soft breathing of Vince in the bed nearby, the warm body underneath his...

Whoa there.

That wasn't familiar, that was new and rather alarming. Suddenly, the dam in his sleep-heavy mind lifted and all the memories of the day came flooding in, right to the point of him falling over, and then... well that was just it, what had happened then?

'You might find out what's goin' on a bit better if you open yer eyes, Howard,' a somewhat breathless voice said into his ear, beneath him.

Howard abruptly opened his eyes to find himself staring into a pair of bright blue ones.

'Vince...?'

'At last, can you get off me now, you're squashing me! I can't breathe, I couldn't get you off me, it was like being crushed by a house-'

'Alright, alright,' Howard said, turning a shade of crimson. He struggled up, running a hand through his hair, 'I get the message, sir,'

'And everyone's watching,'

'What?' Then Howard took in his surroundings: trees and birds and birds and trees and sand. And trees. And birds. And a bit more sand. Oh, and the small hoard of people in hooded cloaks that were watching them. All under a lavender sky.

'Where the hell are we, Vince?' Howard asked, looking at the smaller man who was still smoothing out the creases in his silk grey shirt.

'Not a clue,' he answered, 'But it might 'ave somethin' to do with this,' he held up the amulet that he had been wanting earlier.

A clearing of throats suddenly emerged under the hoods of the crowd, and one of them stepped forward.

'Did you finish your mating ritual, non-native ones?'

'Er, I think you got the wrong end of the stick there, my friend,' Howard said, holding up his hands and wondering how they managed to get into these situations.

'Who are you?' Vince interrupted.

'I am Gredal, and I am champion bogrunner,'

AN: Well, that's the first chapter, not too sure what I think of it personally. I know it's weird, and I apologise; you're scared, I'm scared, I had to do some watercolourings in to help plan it out... Reviews are more than welcome!