Author's note: I've been naughtily putting this off because it's the last chapter I have with pre-prepared dialogue and, to put it simply and honestly, I'm scared! Please be nice to Claire! She's not really a Mary-Sue – she is absolutely nothing like me apart from the fact that she's a girl. Anyway, I'm jumping ahead. Time for chapter 15. Eep…
15
"There he is!"
"Mike?"
Mike looked around, very disorientated; he barely registered the rocking guitars in the background.
The most important thing
Mike span round to come face-to-face with one of those midget Oompa-Loompas. Well, it was more like face-to-shoulder…and it certainly wasn't a midget compared to Mike…
That we've ever learned
The newsreader Oompa-Loompa gave a small nod in Mike's direction. Having learnt not to trust Oompa-Loompas, he backed away quickly…straight into a cooking channel.
The most important thing we've learned,
As far as children are concerned
He acted quickly to avoid a madly slamming mallet (though the huge lump of meat it was pummelling scared him more). A small click and a bout of fuzziness later and Mike found himself cornered by two massive Rock 'Em Sock 'Em robots.
Is never, never let them near
A television set
He dodged as best he could. He tried to call out to his dad, but something strange had happened to his vocal chords – he just couldn't yell. It felt unnatural.
Or better still just don't install,
The idiotic thing at all
Another click and he appeared in a bathtub. He didn't dare move; he stayed completely motionless, like a spider that's just been spotted. A huge pair of legs joined him in the tub, and he looked around to realise for the first time that everything – including himself – was in black and white. The whole thing felt uncomfortably familiar.
"Uh oh," he muttered to himself.
It was just his luck that he would wind up in the middle of his favourite scene from his favourite film. He knew right then and there that he would never watch Phsycho again. But knowing the film inside-out had its benefits – he looked up just in time to see the shower turn on, just as he predicted.
Click!
Now he seemed to be on some demented, Oompa-Loompa-infected version of MTV. He ran around the stage, narrowly avoiding guitarists and drummers everywhere.
It rots the senses in the head
He dashed past a microphone stand.
It kills imagination dead
He jumped over a cable.
It clogs and clutters up the mind
He paused – what where they singing? It rots the senses in the head… it kills imagination dead… it clogs and clutters up the mind…? Mike felt the injustice bubble up inside him. If television really 'rots the senses' and 'clogs and clutters up the mind' then how the hell was he the smartest kid at his school? OK, maybe that came at a sacrifice of having little or no friends…no social life…severe anger issues…
It makes a child so dull and blind
He had no idea how he ended up on the keyboard, nor did he care.
He can no longer understand,
A fairytale in fairyland
He looked around and came to the conclusion that, if what he was experiencing was a 'fairytale in fairyland', then anyone would find it unbelievable if they were thrown into the middle of it! He just had time to back away from the approaching hand…
His brain becomes as soft as cheese
…but he wasn't quite fast enough. He was flung through the air, giving a scream that came out as a squeak; there was another price he had to pay for shrinking himself.
His thinking powers rust and freeze
He landed with a clang onto a cymbal, which he promptly started to slide down. He dug his nails into it, but could do nothing until he was hanging off the edge. He gripped the side, judging the distance from there to the floor, and deciding he'd probably be better off if he just stayed the hell still.
He cannot think
He braced himself as he saw the drumstick come hurtling towards him
He only sees
He clawed fruitlessly at the air in case something came along he could grip onto. He saw those damn drumsticks fly past him. His speed gradually got slower and slower until he came to a complete stop. For a split-second he felt an immense relief, until he realised he was falling…backwards. He followed the path of the confetti that was falling around him. He just had time to glimpse some hippy guitarists as they sang about him in much the same way as Veruca.
Regarding little Mike Teavee
Mike was outraged. Try telling me this wasn't planned, he screamed inwardly.
We very much regret that we
MTV again – he ducked the guitar.
Shall simply have to wait and see
Physcho again – he dodged the knife as it stabbed spasmodically.
We very much regret that we,
Shall simply have to wait and see,
If we can get him back his height
Rock 'Em Sock 'Em robots again – placed right in the middle, this time, he sustained two painful blows before being knocked off his feet.
But if we can't
Cooking show again – there was really nothing he could do, or had the energy to do, to stop himself from being tossed around in the frying pan.
Newsreader again – Mike simply gave up. He rolled to a stop and waited for the climax of the song.
It serves him right.
He couldn't say he hadn't been expecting the squashing from the Oompa-Loompa's papers, but that didn't make it any less painful. He didn't think there was one square inch of him that didn't ache from some sort of injury.
He rubbed the back of his sore head and stretched out his legs as he uttered the only words he could think of:
"Help me…"