Howard ended the story on a note of pride, puffing his chest out as he awaited Vince's response. There was none. He looked down. The sunshiney electrogoth had fallen asleep. Angrily, he shook his friend awake.
"What? Is the story finished?"
"It finished a long time ago; you've been asleep for hours."
"Oh, cool. How did it end then?"
"Not in any way that concerns you, young man."
Vince blinked, and then all the concerns that had melted away with his short nap came flooding back. He buried his face in his hands once again, muffling into his palms "What are we going to do?"
"We're going to get the crimp back."
"We can't, my Juju's gone, I'll never get it back." The darker haired man lifted his face and stared profoundly off into an unknown distance.
"That's where you're wrong," Howard smiled cryptically. He reached down beneath his muffin-coloured shirt with a hint of nutmeg and pulled out an old, worn key on a popcorn link chain. "We've got this." He brandished it importantly at his friend.
Vince jumped up in one easy motion and snatched the key from the other man's hand, pulling it closer and nearly strangling the wearer in the process. Howard choked in feeble protest as the necklace chain was turned over in Vince's hands as he inspected it with admiration.
"I haven't seen one of these in ages; they must have gone out of fashion years ago. This is so retro. Where did you find it?"
Finally managing to disengage himself from the other man's grasp, Howard stood and straightened out his rumpled shirt, smoothing it down fastidiously. "This isn't 'so retro' little man; it's the key to all our problems. Joey Trombone gave it to me."
The electrogoth rolled his eyes. "What is it with you and Joey Trombone?"
"He was a good man, Vince, a strong man, he never gave up."
Vince pulled a face, his interest in the little trinket already wavering. "I don't see how that's going to help us. We're about to lose everything and all you've got is that stupid key."
No sooner than the words were out of the young peacock-man's mouth there was a hefty clap of thunder, the shop being thrown into sudden relief by a flash of lightning that was very inexplicable on this fine, sunny day. Vaguely used to such strange happenings by now, the two men stared around for the source of the disturbance.
They found it standing in the doorway with a leer on its horribly familiar green face.
"Don't wee on me!" Howard yowled in startled terror, launching himself behind the counter to crouch there, quivering slightly.
"Alright," the other man grinned at the intruder with a little nod, as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
"Alright," the Hitcher nodded back, for he was the one who had entered so dramatically. "Jellied eel, boy?" He started to reach into his dark overcoat when a pained expression passed over his face, causing him to correct his old-fashioned faux paus. "I mean, gummy snake?" He amended, withdrawing the updated and twice as popular version of his old treat jellied eels.
"Get that down your noise-maker," he advised with a smile of pure evil.
"Thanks," Vince said as he did just that. He was never one to pass up the offer of a gummy snake.
"I heard tell you were in a bit of trouble, boy," the green-tinted Cockney announced slyly, glancing over to the counter Howard was still hidden behind. "And I've come to help you out; just you tell Uncle Hitcher all about it."
A time lapse ensued whilst Vince told of the troubles with the crimp-stealing monster and coaxed his friend back out into the shop, where their visitor delighted in pulling faces at the man to make him quake. He was pure evil after all.
"…And now all we've got to help get my Crimping Juju back is this stupid key," the electrogoth concluded. Once again there was an ominous rumble of thunder and crackle of mysterious lightning, this time for an audience of three.
The Hitcher held up his hands in an innocent gesture as two pairs of eyes came to rest accusingly on him. "Not me, boy, I've got nothing to do with it. It sounds to me like you've got some bad Juju floating around in that key of yours, and if there's anything I know anything about – it's Juju… and jellied eels. Would you like a jellied eel, boy?" He thrust the paper bag of gummy snakes at Howard, who promptly disappeared into hiding again with a wail of fear. This made him burst out in a short barking laugh, which he concluded with "I'm evil!" in case anyone had forgotten.
"So you can help us?"
"I wouldn't usually, but you showed me the way to a new life, and I think it's time I returned the favour. With my help we'll work out the secrets of the key and get your Crimping back, but only if you promise to give me all the Euros you get from the big yellow monster when you sue him."
Vince shrugged contentedly – it sounded like a fair enough deal.
The room's lighting faded a little as the three men huddled in a circle to discuss their plans, their faces lit importantly from below as they exchanged meaningful eye looks. The exchanged glances became faster and faster until the Hitcher's eye tendons were put under so much strain that his left eye fell out, much to Vince's disgust. It was decided after that incident that they should just discuss it sensibly over a nice cup of tea and a round of Mrs Lovett's meat pies, which were strongly recommended by the Cockney visitor.
To get the Juju back and unlock the secrets of the key they would have to travel to the final resting place of Joey Trombone – luckily this was a cave in the local park so it would only take a twenty minute bus journey on the Number 2 to get there.
Just before they went, whilst Howard was getting together a little survival pack to take with him just in case, he was approached by Vince.
"Howard, I want to wear the key, it will look great with my new shirt." With a flourish, he held up the frilly red number he was planning to change into.
"No way little man, this is the key to all our problems so I think it would be safer with me." The jazz musician patted the bulge in his shirt beneath which the key rested.
Vince pulled a face. "You always get to look after the important things. Don't you trust me?"
"No."
"Why not?" Came the immediate demand as the insulted man arranged himself in a suitably insulted way, one hip jutting to the side as he placed his hands on either side of his waist. He glanced down and decided it would look more of an angry insulted if he jutted the other hip, so adjusted himself accordingly.
He was decidedly glared at, although with the size of Howard's eyes it was difficult to tell. "Remember when we were at school?"
Sensing a lecture coming on, Vince turned his head and looked away in an aloof manner, ignoring the question.
Howard continued, regardless. "All I ever wanted my whole entire life was to see the first ever jazz piano that the first ever jazz musician played on, that was my dream, and every man has to have a dream, Vince. One day I got tickets to see that piano, two tickets, and I gave them to you to look after until the big day. Because I trusted you, I trusted you not to lose the thing that was most important to me. And what did you do?"
The accused one looked a little crestfallen at this and had to admit that he had lost the tickets. In fact, he had traded them for a stripy scarf. "But how was I to know they'd be out of fashion in a day?" he protested in his defence.
"Yeah, I think I'll be looking after the key."
"But look at the colour of your top! It will clash and make you look like an old paint palette where all the paints have dried up and gone that funny colour, that when you go to scrape it off you just throw it away because it looks a bit like cat puke."
"There are things that are more important than looks, Vince."
The profound discussion was interrupted with an impatient shout of "What are you two nancys doing back there? The bus will be 'ere soon!"
With a final severe look at his friend, Howard picked up his survival pack, slung it over one shoulder and left for the front of the shop. As he did so, Vince noticed a little glint of gold and brass from Howard's pocket where he had stuffed the key, perhaps barbed by the clashing colours insult. As slick as any ragamuffin pickpocket, Vince carefully lifted the chain without being noticed and fastened it around his own neck.