A bizarre, hilarious urban-fantasy short. The author invites all the villains, drug-dealers, mafia bosses, policemen, spooks, and hookers from his books to a funereal-themed, fancy-dress, extravaganza, choreographed by an undertaker.
Wacky, outrageous – a touch violent.
It was so good, I might do another one.
The cold, wet dribble of another miserable English summer finally drove me to act. I had to figure out how I could have a bit of fun, and decided I’d ask some of the guys from my books to a big party – in my garden, under a marquee. I’d have gallons of booze, loads of food, and whatever other recreational stuff they used. I’d find a good band, who would play loud, eclectic music and nothing dreary, and I’d buy some fireworks for later. I’d tell the nosey neighbours to come along, or go away and shut up. It’d be fancy dress, and I’d ask my guests to wear crazy, off-the-wall outfits. The more I thought about it, the more excited I became. It could be wild, which reminds me; I even thought about a few ‘tame’ wild animals. I called up London Zoo and asked if I could borrow a tiger, or lion, or even a croc for the night. I was about to ask for some snakes, as well, when the guy at the other end of the line interrupted me.
Guess what the man said? Oh, he was such a pompous fart. ‘Sir, you’re not being serious, are you?’ he asked, in a high-pitched, posh accent.
‘Of course I’m being bloody serious,’ I replied, no doubt with a touch of annoyance sounding in my voice. ‘I’m having a wild party, and I want some wild animals. Can I, or can’t I?’
He just cut me off. The next thing I knew, an RSPCA van turned up at my house, a guy strolled up to the front door, asked to come in, and said he’d had a report that I was harming animals and he had to check it out. ‘Do me a favour,’ I said, as I slammed the door in his face. He came back with a police officer, and I had to let them in and allow the RSPCA man to do his pointless search. I was as polite as pie, saw them off out of the front door, and screamed, ‘Fucking arseholes,’ as they walked back to their vehicles.
My next concern was how to get in touch with my characters. I didn’t have contact details for any of them. So I started to search for them online. I Googled them, searched FB and Google+, and put up a board on Pinterest. The replies started to flood in even before I finished the search. I’d asked for an email address, and they all sent one. They could have been imposters – wanting to come to a free party – so I devised a cunning game to check if they were genuine. I emailed back, saying I didn’t want to offend them, and would they mind replying with the first words they’d said in my book. Oh my God: they all came back immediately, and got it right, and asked for the details of the party…