Chapter
13
The
sensational sacking of Danny Venus
‘Now the Fairy Prankster had heard of
he that cruised content a splashing orange trail along the Uxbridge Road from
Acton to Shepherds Bush, and she sought him there this day; prancing around
before and after Danny Venus and sometimes perching upon the handlebars of his
proud BMX - then up to whistle in his ear the Judy Song so full of cheer that
he should hum it too. To prank upon the pavement she enjoyed to dash between
the passers-by and murmur commands that their minds thought came from within to
make them bump into one another - and
she giggled her infectious strains of the laughter bug until Danny caught it
too and had a chuckle to himself and then a snort.
Babylon
beckoned for this mock humble master. Washing up day in the Havelot Tavern and
Venus rode in backwards, with sleeves rolled up already to get stuck in. There
was a demon chef they called the chief
who holla’d and barked and grabbed the barmaids roughly and was arrogant - and
most likely to have used a knife on someone who didn’t deserve it - and he was
in a grim frame of malicious mind today. Now Danny was cheery and liked to play
pranks; a banana skin in the till or a joke with a sausage. He usually managed
to make somebody smile, especially if they were stressed because the last thing
you expect to find yourself doing when you are stressed is laughing - and you
know it really is a compliment if somebody has somehow discovered the composure
to step back from the hot stress cauldron and play a harmless joke or trick on
you; it shows that they are being thoughtful, thoughtful about you - which is
nice because nobody really thinks about you at work unless they want something
from you like a piece of your mind or the use
of your body.
Millennyway,
here comes Venus with a ‘Merry Monday’ for everybody, to plunge his soldier’s
arms into the depths of the Havelot Tavern sinks and wipe and scrape the
residual once-tasty-now-mucky stuff left on the fancy plates by pretty well-off
types. Pots and pans and plates and forks and knives and big spoons and little
spoons and cups and saucers and whole plates of barely sniffed expensive good
nosh that get wasted senselessly by more-money-than-sense types.
Oh
dear oh dear what have we here? The thundermouth juggernaut roar of an angry
fat 6 foot 4 chef - fat is not an insult you understand here; I state his
fatness as relevant because his overall shouting personage was made nuff
intimidating by his largeness too - what can Danny do? ‘cos he’s scrubbing
clean and quick, as much as he can as fast as he can, but it just isn’t good
enough for the Masterchief who roars ‘Venus! Where’s my lucky pan? Come on you
stinky scruffy waste of space - you know Ant and Dec will dine in the Havelot
today and I want my lucky pan!’
But
the plates are piling up from the busy hordes of lunching Babylonians, and
though Venus moves fast with aching back and legs and wrinkly chickenwater
soaked finger skin, he can’t reach the lucky pan without toppling the leaning
tower of crockery.
‘Er…
in a minute chief!’ he calls to buy some time, and quick catches a flying
saucer from an in-a-hurry-hates-herself-and-wants-to-die waitress. It sure is
hectic at lunchtime. But in storms the brute of no regard, no patience, no
kindness, no heart. The chief snorts a snot bullet from his left nostril, to
face seething and threatening the apron soaked labourer of love whose eyes
twinkle with goodness and head is soaked in goodsweat. The chief growls, ‘Where’s
my flu-nkinggg pan you ingrate?’
‘I’m
working as fast as I can chief.’ But the chief is in a fury and crushes with
great delight a shouldn’t-be-there beetle with his size 14 big boots; shouts
some more like a brutish villain and Venus turns his attention away from the
thieving tirade and onto the gentle panic of a rare butterfly which cannot find
freedom in the angry kitchen. His goodly godly eyes zoom in to touch the red
shapes on the black wings - they are perfect hearts one on either side - but
watch out! Thumping fist of satan smashes the wall - the chief has seen it to
but he missed…
All
of a silly sudden, a window opened by itself, and as the heaving cook-em-up
beast went for another blow, he felt the smack of his lucky pan knocking his
dirty lights out, and Venus - his hand forced by the fairy Prankster -could only stare in astonishment at his rash
deed.
But
the butterfly escaped and thanked him with a grateful graceful wing dance as he
fled into the spring outside. Venus took the window too because it seemed the
thing to do. And as he dashed with haste away, he heard the groggy villain say:
‘Venus you’re sacked!’ and all that other ‘if I ever get my hands on you’
claptrap that thwarted villains are wont to say. ‘Fairy Nuff’ calls the
liberated Daniel, who is now in doting chase along Uxbridge road after the rare
butterfly whom has gone gone gone, but there is a Kingly Bee running fast
within the magic walls of Acton, something tells him.
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