Hieronymus Boosh

Part 14

Howard heaved a sigh of relief when he saw Vince talking to the confused creature, stroking her colossal forehead. She had released the Orc figure who had run back to be with the group. The dolls had forgotten their quest for Vince's duplicitous hide, and stood gaping with everyone else.

The cat began to purr as Vince simply charmed the hairballs out of her.

Vince looked back at Howard. "Told you I was a gifted child, Howard," Vince grinned. "This is Tabouli. Tabouli, meet Howard. He's coming with me."

In a sweep, Vince hopped up on Tabouli's massive back.

"What you doin'?" Howard pleaded.

"Getting us out of here, Howard." Vince offered his hand from his furry vantage point. "Or do you want to hurt these children?"

With that Howard found himself atop the beast, clutching Vince for stability.

"Relax, Howard. You won't fall off."

"Wait! Vince, take me with you!" came a chorus of female pleas. "I love you, Vince!" some said. "You're meant to be with me," others insisted.

"Sorry ladies. Thanks for the lovely tea party!"

"Unbelievable!" Howard managed to groan. "How do you do that?" He was always in awe of Vince's magnetism.

"It's not all it's cracked up to be," Vince deadpanned, just happy to get away in one piece.

"Where are we going anyway?"

Howard looked around for a possible egress. The windows were all locked shut. They would have to break a gigantic piece of glass, which could slice them all into shreds. The thought of knife-edged sheets of glass sawing them in pieces made Howard shiver.

"Haven't any of you ever tried to escape before?" Howard yelled toward the group.

"Well, sure, partner," said the American Old West Sheriff doll. "Plenty of times, but we always get brung back ta here."

"There are vents in the floor, but they go right into the furnace," the ragdoll redhead told them. "I'd go up in flames and you would probably melt into a puddle."

Howard was also aware of one thing; he was almost no longer a human. His entire body was nearly made of plastic. He thought the same must be true for Vince.

Vince's face had been frozen into a gigantic Mr. Punch grimace, as Howard's had been frozen into an eternal scowl. Together they looked like Comedy and Tragedy masks over the arch at the proscenium of a theatre.

"Howard," Vince began. "I don't want to melt into a puddle."

"C'mon, Little Man," Howard chided his partner. "We've been in worse scrapes before, heh?"

"Have we?"

"Well, no not really, but…" Something caught Howard's eye. Howard had thought he had lost his prized trumpet, but amongst the kit for one of the soldiers, there it poked out, glinting in one of the sunrays that dashed through the slatted window shade. He bolted off the animal and leapt toward the thing like a man grasping at a life raft.

"Oh Howard, now is not the time for Jazz!" Vince objected. "In fact, there is never a time for Jazz, ever!"

"Watch and learn, Vince!"

Vince rolled his eyes then covered his ears as Howard blew the trumpet.

In a flash, the Spirit of Music appeared before the group and started dancing around.

"Mr. B!" Howard attempted. "Mr. B! We need your help!"

"I'm the Spirit of Music," he/she announced shrilly. "In you! And you! In all of you!"

"Yeah yeah," Howard agreed impatiently. "You're the Spirit of Music. We haven't got time for this."

"Is this a joke?" Vince asked. "Who's this mental midget?"

Mr. B confused Vince's sycophantic followers, who were unsure of the prancing newcomer's gender or intentions. A new ripple of jealousy jolted through the girls even though they knew Vince was trying to get away.

"Knew your father, did I," Mr. B said, as he/she danced near Vince.

"Yeah, that's nice," Vince snarked. "Can you shut up now? We're trying to think."

"Useless," Howard said as he once again sunk down. "It looks like this is it, Vince," Howard announced. "We've come to the end."

Suddenly the sound of whistles pierced the air, causing all to wince against the high pitched noise.

"All right people. Freeze!" commanded one of the smartly dressed people, as he snap-clapped his hands in the air next to his head. "There is a Fashion Crime in Progress."

"Wince? Whoo-ince Noo-waur? Est-ce vous , cher? Mais, it cahn'not be!" cried a very tall wafer thin woman in an impossibly ridiculous outfit from a fashion runway show.

"Sha-zar! Chico! Rico! Sam!" Vince cried in relief.

"Non! I cannot accept that you have violated the law so severely," Sha-zar cried, looking at her clip board. "Wince Noo-waur, I must inform you, though it gives me great pains that you are in violation of 17 laws, edicts and mandates."

"No wait!" Vince began to panic. He had only highest honors from the Fashion Police. It would be unbearable to garner a violation.

"I must also inform you," Sha-zar paused for a dramatic sniffle, "that your Platinum status is now suspended indefinitely and may be revoked at your trial…"

tbc…