(Nav) The early morning was quite as we stalked through the woodlands. The air held the first crispness of winter. The dawn chorus was merely a couple of raucous crows, arguing like old women. We moved silently through the undergrowth. The breeze ruffled my hair as we continued, bringing with it the musky scent of boar. My rifle felt cumbersome in my arms, an unfamiliar weight. My heart raced with excitement, that heady rush of adrenaline. I heard the snapping of a twig up ahead and dived to the ground just in time. Paint splattered a tree beside my ear.
(Chris) "Bryan! Watch your bloody fire!" yelled an obviously angered Nav. From my crouched position behind the large oak tree, I light out a sly grin. Nav has always taken paint balling way too serious; he goes as far as to wear green and black face paint.
"Sorry Nav, I slipped on some moss." Nav just grunts and continues to advance. Suddenly Nav jumps out of his pale skin by the ringing of his phone.
"Hold on lads… Computer pause simulation." The vast forest disappears around us and we are stood in a light blue square room. Nav answers his phone…
(Bryan) "Hello? Yeah, hold on a mo…" Nav takes the phone away from his ear and smothers it under his military jacket.
"It's the missus, she wants to know when I'll be home, I promised to re-roof the rabbit hutch today."
"Pfft!" said Chris.
"You didn't tell her we're paintballing, did you?"
"Um, yeah… she has a way of kinda… choking these things out of me."
"Nav!" said Bryan.
"The first rule of paintball club is you 'do not' mention paintball freakin' club!"
"Sorry, lads, these things happen. Shit! She's still on hold, she'll be absolutely bloody fuming," said Nav.
(Nav) Sometime later, they are eating in the chipper. Nav knows that he’s already up shit creek with the missus, so a large bouquet of roses rests on the table next to his kebab. The other two comedians have finally stopped giving him stick, though the occasional whip effect can still be heard.
“How’s about some golf after this?” asked Bryan eagerly.
“What is it with you and that stupid game?” complained Chris.
“You can’t even play it.”
“I’m better than you, numb-nuts.” Bryan protested. Nav rolls his eyes.
“Lads, come on. Your ma’s gonna kill me if we’re late again!”
(Chris) Bryan looks over at Nav with a scowl yet no words grace us with their presence from his open mouth, only a view of mashed up meat. Chris gazes over at the blue neon sign stating that the establishment is open
“Nav, do you ever wonder what we're our lives are going?” Bryan stops chewing for a moment and looks at Nav.
“Chris, stop being bloody over-dramatic will you! Every time a grenade goes off or a burst of laser fire passes us by, you get worse! Go home and see your cat, for tomorrow we’ve got a job to do.”
(Bryan) The following day, Chris, Nav and Bryan are parked around the corner from the Clogthorpe branch of the Halifax Bank.
"Got yer bananas ready?" said Nav.
"Mine's loaded," said Chris.
"I don't think this is a good idea," said Bryan, "a banana doesn't even look like a gun."
"Just put it in the black sock like we've done," said Chris.
"Say somebody calls my bluff?" said Bryan.
"Trust me, I've done this before, they'll be too busy shitting themselves," said Nav.
"Balaclavas on!"
"Check!" said Chris.
"Check!" said Bryan.
Nav opened the door of his Skoda Yeti "Let's freakin' rock!"
(Nav) They burst through the doors of Halifax like a bunch of party poppers on New Year’s Eve, waving their bananas threateningly. Nav hadn’t been wearing socks so his fruit glared brightly in the neon lighting.
“On the ground!” yelled Chris. The newly-acquired robo-guards XLS2000 opened fire. Stun grenades flew like it was bonfire night and the streaks of laser-fire lit up the room with an impressive lightshow. Sadly, the ambient lift-music did little to reflect the surrounding chaos. Nav looked for the exit through tear-filled eyes. He’d become disorientated.
“Shit!”
“THROW DOWN YOUR FRUIT AND SURRENDER!” bellowed over the loudspeakers.
(Chris) As Bryan cowered on the floor, yearning to be safe in the old Skoda, Chris knew it was up to him and his banana to save his two companions. He ran at the robo-guards with full force, only to trip over a plug and fall flat on his face.
As he peered upwards red faced like beetroot, the humanoid faces of the guards seemed amused. They didn’t realize that this gave Nav the chance to unleash a time-stalling grenade. As the clocks froze, the three bananas grabbed as many five pounds notes as they could and ran for the door.
(Bryan) Nav was whittling a piece of wood into a phallic shape, while Chris pulled the wings off a nondescript fly.
“How long are we gonna have to lie low?” said Bryan.
“As long as it takes,” said Nav.
“If they catch us we’ll be looking at a five stretch,” said Chris.
“I don’t wanna be some drug dealer’s bitch,” said Bryan.
“At least you’d be gettin’ it regularly,” said Chris.
“Given the choice, I’d rather be the sausager than the sausagee,” said Bryan.
“Will you two get a grip!” Nav continued, “There’s no evidence to link us to the robbery.”
(Nav) BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!
Nav stirred. He could feel a wetness around his loins. Blinking awake, he watched a young woman washed his body with a hand-towel. She wore a crisp white uniform. He had woken in an unfamiliar room, all bright antiseptic walls and neon lights.
He groaned. His head was still fuzzy from whatever drugs they’d used.
“Morning, Mr. Logan!” she greeted cheerfully.
“The Doctor will be along shortly.”
Flashback images appeared in his head. He’d been late for his meeting when suddenly … he’d tripped over the cat and fallen down the stairs.
“Strange dreams!” he mumbled sleepily.
The End
No comments:
Post a Comment