From davet@hrc63.co.uk Fri Jun 2 12:05:36 1989 From: davet@hrc63.co.uk (Dave Thorpe) Subject: Nigel The Hedgehog, Chapter four The Saga of Nigel the Hedgehog ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Chapter IV ~~~~~~~~~~ Authors: Aktar > Sophy > Pete > Gary > Chris > Kelvin > Aktar > Dave > Pete > Kelvin > Gary Nigel washed (and dressed???) and collected his belongings but he could not concentrate. His superhedgehog mind was for once pre-occupied with misty, hazy , drizzle like thoughs. HIS GOAL!! It was .... too difficult to consider on an empty stomach. First he would go and have some breakfast. He snuffled out into the garden of the motel and started rooting out the slugs, snails and worms - which he much preferred to dry roasted peanuts. The slimy wildlife of the motel was struck with fear when they realised who was snorting around in the garden, for not only was Nige the superhedgehog the best at catching nasty squirmy slippery things, he also had an extremely large appetite (to match his ego) and so they knew none of them would survive the raid. However, they were saved by the kindly old lady who suddenly came out of her room and offered Nigel a dish of milk. Unfortunately this seemingly innocecnt woman was a great hedgehog hater and she had laced the dish with strychnine... Well I don't know what the hell 'strychnine' does as I've never tried it so I will assume it is like Kryptonite is to superman. Nigel trundled over to the and as he approached the bowl in a gracefull yet powerfull way, with his nose twitching in anticipation, he began to feel a little queesy, as he got yet closer he started to slow down and become wobbly at the knees, he inched his way forward step by weary step by limp by crawl determined to reach his favourite sustenance. He was now at the lip of the bowl and about to quaff deeply from it, he fell to the floor (ie not very far) and lay there gasping and wheezing, his highly tuned deductive reasoning would have told him that something was wrong but the strychnine had drained him of him super-powers. He knew, however, that he'd better try to get away but lay there helpless on the door step, in agony and unable to use any of his powers. He was an ordinary hedgehod with an exceedingly bad gut ache. As he looked up he saw the front door open and a woman emerge holding a sawn-off shot gut.."Got you you flea ridden little bastard!!!"..she aimed and squeezed the trigger...... click ... "Dam this gun ! What a pile of shite !" (strong language for a pensioner - Mrs. Brady really hated hedgehogs) Nigel scuttled neatly into a nearby bush and lit up a cigarette. Nigel was hurt, not only was he a super-hedgehog, but he had never had a flea in his life. If there was one thing Nigel couldn't tolerate it was criticism. He wanted revenge ... Nigel crept around to the back of the house. In the vegetable garden he found some spinach, and rooted around in it for worms ( Somehow they seemed to give more power than those elsewhere ). These brought his health back, allowing him to recover from the strychnine poisoning. He waited until nightfall, and then crept into the house. The house seemed quiet, ominously quiet, as he moved sleathily through the old panelled corridors. From behind a door he heard a faint muttering, almost like a priest in prayer. He opened the door a crack and peered in. The room was candlelit, with rough stone walls, but the most noticable feature was on the floor. A large round circle of bronze, with a pentacle of silver within it. Outside this circle were five figures, chanting in low voices. One was Mrs Brady, one Barry, one Pinny ( who doesn't like to be disturbed ), and the other two, not seeming entirely to be on this plane, were Ronnie and Bonnie. As they ceased chanting a terrible figure appeared in the pentagram. What was it ( the next tory prime minister ? ), and why had it come ? Nigel was going to do some more rooting but he had heard that it leads to middle-age impotence so instead he removed his size twelve hiking boots and silently tip-toed into the room. The shape gradually materialised until its identity became certain. It was... NOT the corresponding femail size fifteen (or twelve or ten ) hiking boots but, as Nigel's super-sense told him, something far worse. He felt the slugs, snails and slime SQUELCH in his stomach, his youthful years flashed before him (just as they always do in these scenerios except that once the actors/actresses had finished playing out his life they quietly moved off stage to the amazement of those around the pentagon) and he cowered behind his rucksack. Our hero was afraid! "OH NO!", I hear you whine. The creature had been 'beam me down Scottied' from some out of this world place and was none other than that fat bastard in the extra large Mr. Wimpy foam-filled suit (that kid-hedgehogs love to beat up) with his size 27-and- a-half hedgehog sqashing shoes. Thus arrives the new character that you have all been awaiting. Mr Wimpy had been summoned by those who hated Nigel for one reason and one reason only - Nigel looked on.... Unaware of our hero's presence, the five collegues continued their meeting of the evil-o-mobility society. They chanted strange songs, mostly with 'Nigel' placed somewhere in their long and complicated verses and it was truely clear to Nigel they created this beast to destroy him. His heart sank at this thought, but he knew he must leave this evil abode for a place where the rather large Mr. Wimpy could not reach him. He placed his hiking boots back on, and ran out of the house, trying not to make any noise but failing totally. The five collegues heard his presence, and altered Mr. Wimpy to his actions. Mr. Wimpy was after him! Nigel deftly ran through the house and out of the door in a blind panic. Mr Wimpy turned, and started to lumber through the house (and I mean through the house as he was too big to get through a door and simply charged through the walls). Through all the noise it was possible to hear nigel scream for help as he threw himself headlong through the garden. Out through the front door burst Mr Wimpy taking off most of the front wall of the house. He lumbered through the hot summer air towards Nigel as Nigel ran through the motel car part towards his car. He threw himself into the car, threw it into first gear and drove out through the barrier. Mr Wimpey was now catching up, Nigel looked through his back window to see Mr Wimpie coming closer through the car park..."Oh shit!". muttered nigel through his teeth.... Suddenly Nigel remembered one of his most neglected superpowers; that of the ability to fly through the air at the speed of light. He leaped two inches into the air and dropped again, leaped and dropped again, and again and again and then it occured to him that he was confusing his own powers with those of superman. The shadow of Mr. Wimpee's huge right foot fell over Nigel and in abject terror he began to whimper and wail for his mother. The word 'mother' had a strange and unexpected effect on Mr. Wompie; he stepped back as a wave of misery broke over him, taking in its wake the fine veneer he had constructed around himself to protect him >from the memory of his childhood. Nigel, quick-witted as ever, did not hesitate to take advantage of the situation by melodramatically unveiling his... cryptosonichydrojetrocketdoublebacksomersaultjoanbijentlaserfiredbig knife >from his utility belt. He dodged the huge descending right foot and lunged the knife upwards towards Mr. Wimpy's groinal area. The knife pierced through Mr. Wimpy's foam suit with relative ease and whipped off his large testes in one swift manoevre. Mr. Wimpy's bulk crashed to the floor, withered and then disappeared, leaving behind nothing but one testicle. Nigel was hungry, but not that hungry, inspite of the fact that he knew tesicles were the main ingrediant in the Wimpy Bar's food. He decided on reflection to leave and continue with his goal. He turned and headed back towards his car. Then suddenly the testicle groaned and began to mutate and assume a human-like face, Nigel turned at the moaning sound. He was spell-bound. The testicle began to roll towards Nigel chanting what seemed to be some medi eval latin chorus. Then it said in a rather efeminate voice "What's your name big-boy, mine's Fatlegsmason, the grand wizard testicle of chaos". Without waiting for a reply the friendly testicle vanished into the mist as if summoned by some higher power. -=*=- Coming soon...Chapters five to infinity! From: Dave Thorpe (davet@uk.co.gec-rl-hrc) Thank you for your attention.