The world steadily turned on its axis and ate up the hours,
dawn had arrived and Derek found himself feeling rather
uncomfortable, he tossed and turned and was beginning to heat up,
it seemed that Honey had taken pity on him in the night and
removed the pillow allowing him to spoon once more but he
dreamt that his ever loving wife had ballooned in size and started to smell, it was a strange dream but above all he felt hot, really hot like he was sizzling in a giant frying pan.
His dream was shattered in an instant when a large wad of spit
landed on his face followed by a deep rumbling sound. Rubbing
his eyes he couldn’t take in what he saw when all around him a
herd of angry camels came advancing towards him, the one lying
next to him had already got up and begun growling too.
“What the?” cried Derek as he raised his arm to shield himself
from another spit missile. He jumped to his feet and backed away
from the group under the baking sun that had now decided he was
quite cooked but he could be flipped again for an over easy.
He was standing in his favourite pair of well worn light blue
underpants and could see that all around there was nothing but
sand and bloody lots of it too. His hairy companions had stopped
in their tracks and didn’t venture any further, probably because of the underpants.
“Where the bloody hell am I?” he screamed to himself in a
panic, he had heard of stag do’s tying up naked grooms to lamp-
posts or driving them to remote Scottish islands to make their sorry way back but this was taking the biscuit; A. he was already
married and B. this was no Scottish island and there was not a
single lamp-post in sight.
“Honey?” he feebly shouted, what kind of madness was this,
was he still dreaming?
A rather angry looking leather faced Bedouin came running
over to see why his herd were being restless at such an early hour and stopped dead in his tracks to take in a pasty white man dressed in bright blue Mowgli pants. The camel herder took one look at
Derek and came at him with his camel whip, he wasn’t about to be
robbed of his precious cargo before it had even got to market.
Derek could see the Arab meant business and with a wide eyed
stare of fear, he turned heel and ran for his life past the dromedarys and over the sand berm, chased by his pursuer.
He could hear the lashing of a foreign tongue shouting all
manner of obscenities but Derek was of fleet foot as he was
travelling light, it didn’t help that the fierce sun was baking him to a crisp. The irate Bedouin pulled his rifle from his shoulder and
tried to take a steady aim as he fired off a shot at the hapless figure zigzagging down the sand bank. A bullet whizzed past Derek’s ear
as he heard a loud crack like a twig breaking beside him.
The nomad gave up and let him run off as fast as his saggy
blue pants could carry him, at least he still had all of his camels.
Honey had woken up pretty early, she rolled over to see that
Derek was missing on his side of the bed but gave no thought to it as the morning was still dark and Derek must be in his planetary
observation room, she cursed his boring hobby and went back to
sleep, at least she had the whole bed to herself now.
“Oh my God, where the hell am I?” was all he could say as he
eyed what appeared to be a small village in the distance, the
buildings looked like tall rectangles with a multitude of small
windows carved out of them. It was his only hope but he couldn’t
stop in case the man came back to finish him off, the sun was
chasing him now and had already turned up a few more degrees.
God Boy was pleased with his first experiment, his specimen
had survived his first colony encounter but he was heading to a
larger one now, he glanced over at his fellow pupils and saw that
his nemesis had grown quite angry, his multi tentacled Drakapod,
the most feared creature on his selected planet had fallen foul of his initial encounter, although he had slain the zong-tipped
Megadon, there were more of his angry brethren heading his way.
He smiled back, although he was unsure of his own progress as
yet, Derek could well meet his doom as the first experiment played itself out.
Derek was 100 yards off his target but he was unsure of the
reception he would get, he didn’t know where the hell he was for a start and it definitely didn’t feel like a dream now. A young
goatherd saw him approach and cried to anyone that would listen
to come quickly. Derek was tentatively stepping barefoot over the
sharp rocks and had cut his feet as he moved from soft sand to hard shingle.
The boy was wide eyed as he stepped forward and shouted
something to him in an equally mixed up babble, just like the
camel herder earlier.
“Hello little boy, tell me where I am please?” called Derek, he
was sweating a bit now and his back was starting to feel very red
indeed.
It was impossible to have a normal conversation when you
were dressed in nothing but your underwear, a surprised crowd had
gathered a few yards away from him as he made his way to the
entrance of the town, a group of girls were giggling to themselves at the mere sight of this weedy vagrant, if only he could grab a
towel or a sheet to cover himself then maybe he could get some
sense out of them.
One of the elders reeled off something back at him but he
couldn’t make it out, it sounded Arabic, they definitely looked
Arabic for a start.
Derek received a sharp whack to his posterior as another elder
surprised him with a goat stick, the crowd laughed profusely as
Derek gave a whelp and pushed through them into the main square.
The goat beater was hot on his heels however and kept hitting him
to make him move faster, it was all good entertainment for the
locals.
“Stop hitting me with that stick will you, I’m not a bloody
goat!” shouted Derek and he turned around and grabbed the stick
off the toothless grinning native.
At last, one of the more knowledgeable natives stepped
forward and spoke to him.
“Manchastor Uneeted!” came the cry.
Derek smiled and hoped it would be the start of a beautiful
friendship, he covered his walnuts just in case another beater came at him from the front.
“Yes, Manchester United! Nice to meet you, where am I?”
His friend understood him perfectly, “Daved Beekam!”
Derek smiled, “Yes! David Beckham, could you tell me where
I am please?”
“Daved Beekam!”
The growing crowd laughed again and Derek realised he was
in a lot of trouble.
“Daved Beekam!”
Derek ran for his life, with the crowd of stick wielding Arabs
in hot pursuit.
Honey was feeling a little bit guilty for being mean and called
out for her beloved husband to come back to bed, his study room
was only next door so she was sure the young ones wouldn’t wake
up and start rampaging.
There came no reply.
She pulled herself out of her cosy nook and drowsily shuffled
out to see what he playing at, the door creaked open and all she
saw was a number of sad looking telescopes crying out to be used.
She walked downstairs and had a look around but could not
see nor hear her man anywhere, even the car was still parked on
the road outside. Where could he be? she thought; His shoes were
still in the cupboard and there was no sign of him in the garden, the little knockback she gave him last night wasn’t that bad, was it? he sure was sensitive.
She couldn’t phone her mother as it was still too early so she
went back upstairs and climbed into bed, give him a little time,
maybe, she pondered and went back to sleep.
Derek had run to the other end of the village, it was mostly a
dusty square flanked by doorways of every shape imaginable,
outside stood grinning women getting washing ready for hanging,
they liked to start the day early here it seemed. He saw a white
sheet as he was scurrying along, it was still damp and he hastily
grabbed it and pulled it around him like a badly fitted toga. There were screams and laughter behind him as the crowd looked like
they were staging the Arabian marathon. Derek thought of Benny
Hill but he didn’t hear any silly music.
Even out here they were no stranger to technology and
someone had phoned ahead on a mobile; Derek could see in the
distance a military looking jeep, making dust clouds as it jolted
along the beaten track, heading in his direction. He was glad of
their presence as the only reception he could get in this place was a few good whacks with a stick, maybe they would be kinder to him,
maybe they would tell him where he was?
The Grand Visioneer was busy noting the progress that some
of his better students were making and shaking his head at some of the poorer ones.
God Boy’s arch enemy had cried out upon seeing his beloved
Drakapod ripped to pieces by a swarm of angry Megadons.
“It seems your creation failed to grasp the simple benefit of
kindly interaction, did it not?” called the Visioneer, who marked
down a fail in his light scribe.
He turned to another boy who seemed to be pleased with the
fact his Terapid warrior had been greeted with such fanfare by the colony of Onglatads, but his smile was wiped off in an instant
when his victor was pushed without warning into a boiling vat of
death slime ready for the feast later that evening.
He stopped a short while at God Boy’s experiment and shook
his head slightly as the outcome did not look good for his selected specimen, God Boy sighed a little, he was sure his pick was
equally as strong as a Terapid.
The green jeep that came to a screeching halt was occupied by
a couple of serious looking officials; they were dressed in desert camouflage but seemed too old for conscription, maybe they were
senior officer’s, Derek couldn’t tell, he just stood there looking helpless as the crowd behind him had laid down their sticks and
stood staring in a ‘Who Me?’ pose.
The most senior officer approached and was holding a small
handgun that was definitely pointing at Derek, he looked the sorry creature up and down and scratched the top of his forehead to try
and make some kind of sense of what he saw.
Luckily for Derek, his English wasn’t too bad, “Who are you?
What are you doing here?” came the cry.
“Sir, I am Derek Hill from England. Where am I?”
“You are in a village south of Al Hudaydah, What are you
doing here?”
The officer’s tone was slightly more menacing this time, his
companion just sat there, staring straight ahead wearing a pair of Top Gun Aviators, it was obvious the film had only just been
released there, over 20 years too late.
Derek started crying, he was shaking like a leaf, it was obvious
to the man that he was either a spy or an escaped lunatic.
With a smile, the officer gestured Derek to follow him and as
he walked slowly around to get into the back of the Jeep, he was
astonished at what the man said.
“Welcome to Yemen, Derek Hill!”
Derek looked forlornly at the baying crowd who became all
smiles as the Jeep quickly reversed and drove off at high speed
away from the village, all he could hear as he departed were cries of, ‘”Daved Beekam, Daved Beekam”
He was driven sun scorched and baked for about 30km,
bumping and rocking back and forth as the Jeep driver thought he
was the Yemenese rally King. His companion was shouting at him
to keep control and every so often he turned around to make sure
his prisoner was still attached to the back seat.
After a while, the road became easier and turned into tarmac
and for another hour he passed processions of 4x4s travelling in
the opposite direction, the modern day camel of the desert. He saw the occasional goat and plenty of locals who waved at him as he
whizzed by.
How the blazes had he arrived in Yemen? One minute he was
happily sleeping in his bed in Runcorn, the next minute he was
making out with a camel on a desert floor, he would forgive his
wife a thousand knock backs if only he could be back there with
her, even to the point of smiling as he ate swede.
The Jeep rolled along and came upon a magnificent city, which
contained thousands more of the buildings he saw in the village,
only taller.
“Sanaa” shouted his captor and Derek was in no doubt he was
in Yemen this time, he studied the stars and he also took a great
interest in geography but what puzzled him the most was how he
was going to get out of this one, did his wife even know he was
abroad?
Honey had been cruelly awoken by the kids who knew it was
the weekend with a vengeance, they were busy screaming their
heads off, Jack was playing with a plastic crocodile and was
pushing it in his Mommy’s face as she tried to doze. Ella and
Citron were giggling and screaming in unison as most twins do,
they were clearly hungry for breakfast and it was no use lying
there.
She got up and called out for Derek but again there was no
reply, she quickly looked in all of the rooms and noticed his shoes were still where he had left them.
“How strange.” she mumbled to herself, it was about time she
called the wicked witch and reported him missing, although Gloria
would probably hope it was something more permanent.
A bedraggled and burnt Derek sat on a plastic chair with his
hands tied behind his back, overhead was a dim light which gave
little relief from the dark that enveloped the hot and stuffy
interview room.
A different official to the one that captured him stood in a
corner smoking a cigarette and stared quite intently at the toga clad individual.
“So, Derek Hill, I am Ali Hadad, Chief of Police in Sanaa, I
would like to ask you a few questions.”
He continued to smoke, there was hardly any air in the room as
it was, after a quick puff he began his careful approach, “Do you
realize that you need permission from the Yemen tourist police to
travel outside of Sanaa?”
Derek shook his head, “I shouldn’t be here, I should be in
Runcorn!”
“Runcorn, what is this?”
“It is where I live, in England.”
The officer eyed him suspiciously, the man wasn’t making any
sense.
“Mr. Hill, where are your belongings? were you robbed?”
“No, I found myself lying next to a camel.”
It was getting stranger by the minute.
“What do you do for a living, Mr. Hill?”
Derek wondered where this was going, how could it possibly
help him get back to normality.
“I am a supervisor, I make chemical detergents”
“You supervise the making of chemicals? You mean chemical
weapons?”
He couldn’t believe the line of questioning.
“No officer, I make washing up liquid! Soap, etc etc”
The middle aged serious looking officer came running over
and slapped him hard across the face, Derek let out a huge cry, the pain was immense.
“Liar, you are a spy, you make chemical weapons and you are
intent on hurting the good people of Yemen!”
Derek began sobbing, it seemed he was a master at it, “No,
No! I am Derek Hill of 43 Blossom Meadows, Runcorn, England, I
am a supervisor for the Supersuds Detergent Factory and I don’t
know what I am doing here!”
The officer had heard quite enough, it was plain as day what
Derek was, no papers, no authorization, dubious profession, turns
up miles away from the capital but not too far from a military base, it could only add up to one thing.
He slapped Derek hard again for having the cheek to invent a
silly address called Blossom Meadows and walked out of the room
in a strop.
It was clear he was in big big trouble now, the camel herder
was an amateur compared to this man.
A couple of menacing looking guards appeared and yanked
Derek from his chair, he was manhandled through the door and led
down a narrow corridor which contained a multitude of grey metal
doors, there was less air in this corridor than maybe the moon.
Derek received a strong punch in his gut from one of the
heavies and was thrown headfirst into a windowless cell, he
coughed and spluttered from the shock of the attack and lay there
in a heap of tears and spit. The guards slammed the door shut and
he could hear them reel off a million words a minute in their
mother tongue.
The dark was stifling but not as much as the temperature, as he
felt himself heat up even more, they had given him no water and
the whole episode made him wish he was still a goat being
whipped around the village square; Derek unwillingly passed out.
Honey, sensing the time, had rushed to the phone and dialed
her Mother, this was a matter of the utmost urgency, she had
wished she had phoned earlier, there was no point waiting,
something had to be done now.
She was in a flood of tears, “Mother, you won’t believe what’s
happened!”
Gloria could tell there was an emergency unfolding, it was a
mother’s instinct, “Calm down, dear, now take it slow, tell me
what has happened?”
“It’s Derek, Mother, he has only decided to go for a long walk
or something equally daft and forgotten that it’s Ella’s Hockey
Semi-final today!”
Beelzebub’s Mom was enraged, “The bloomin nincompoop!
Honey, I always knew he was next to useless, does he even care
about you and the kids?”
Honey was performing her best Norman Collier impression
blurting out words in-between sobs, “I don’t know mother, he
hasn’t fixed the car either, I am so mad with him, Ella will be
distraught, what am I going to do? I can’t drive her there?”
“Never you mind, dear, I’ll be coming round this instant, if
that idiot can’t manage a simple task like this then I surely will!”
Gloria put the phone down and hoped that en route she may
accidently slip the kerb and run over the man she detested the
most, for not being Derek the provider.
A few hours had passed and Derek was feeling as if a giant
hand had wrung all the water out of him, he could hear commotion
outside and was starting to fear what his captors may do to him
next, what could he offer them anyway? the top ten expert tips on spotting misshapen plastic bottles or the difference between an
asteroid and a comet?.
The door was pulled wide open and 3 extras from Chips came
walking in, the aviator sunglass salesman was having a ball here in Yemen. Derek was roughly pulled to his feet while the senior
officer he met earlier grabbed him by his hair and led him back
into the interrogation room.
They placed him back on his chair and another guard appeared
from nowhere with an ice filled jug of water and placed it on the
table. Derek sat there and wished he could dive straight into it but his dream was shattered when the man poured himself a glass and
stood there smiling between sips.
“Please, Sir, can I have some water?” gasped Derek.
“Certainly Mr. Hill, but first you must tell me your mission.”
“I, I don’t have a mission, I watch plastic bottles for a living.”
“Come, come Mr. Hill, we can be good friends, just tell me
why you are here and you can have your own glass, it tastes
wonderful,” he took long sips and exaggerated the pleasure.
It was clear his tormentor was just warming up his routine.
The Grand Visioneer had seen enough, he had made his notes
on each pupil’s performance for the first test and decided some
guidance was needed.
“Class, I did not expect any of you to grasp the fundamentals
of species interaction so soon, as you can see and as some of you
have learned the hard way, it takes co-operation and a common
trade to occur for it to be successful...”
God Boy was intently listening but could also see out of the
corner of his eye his subject slumped back in a chair with a gun
pointed at his head, he was hoping the Visioneer would hurry up
his speech.
“Most interactions are symbiotic, I have cast my marks and
there is no need to play each scenario out, we must make haste for experiment number two!”
A bullet had left the chamber after the Officer grew tired of his
captive’s weak replies, whatever he was protecting at the military base it must have been important.
God Boy quickly willed his intentions and saw the bullet shoot
past the chair and into the wall to the amazement of the three men standing there.
Gloria Weaver was ferrying her Daughter and Grand Kids
back from the Hockey match, it was clear that Ella was distraught, she had hoped Daddy was there to see her shot fly home and
secure the teams run to the finals, it was the proudest day of her life but he had missed it.
Honey was seething, “Derek is in for a right ticking off when I
get hold of him, I don’t know what he is playing at but it had better be good!”
Her mother hadn’t liked Derek from the start, she never
considered he had a backbone, much like a jellyfish, she aimed for tall, dark and handsome but fate had delivered the wrong parcel for her daughter, her precious Honey.
Gloria drove her Mercedes A class down Blossom Meadows
and around Derek’s pitiful Montego before coming to a halt on the
drive, they were about to disembark when Ella suddenly cried
out…
“DADDY!”
They weren’t expecting anything quite like it. Looking out of
the car window they could have sworn that Gandhi had returned
and was lying face down on their garden with his mouth attached
to the hose sprinkler. It’s not everyday that you see something like that and they remained in the car frozen in time, mouths wide
open.
Derek had drunk his fill of the entire reservoir and peered up to
see his whole world looking down on him; he was sunburnt red
from head to toe, still in his toga and completely soaked by now
but it felt good, his face had been chewing a wasp from the blows
he received earlier and he was exhausted. He didn’t know whether
the man was about to shoot him or play some more games but he
was glad to be home.
The unusual sight still didn’t make up for the fact that he had
missed the hockey match and as a soaking sheet came walking
round to greet Honey, she pushed her arm out to fend him off,
“Derek, how could you miss your daughter’s crowning glory, stay
away from me! Kids, get in the house now!”
“But Honey, you wouldn’t believe where I have just been!”
“I don’t want to know Derek, you have picked a fine time to
go insane! Just leave it but in future if you decide to have any more tantrums be sure to make it a weekday.”
Gloria backed off the drive and drove over Derek’s toes, she
had managed to get part of him that day, he could see her smiling
in the driver’s seat as she was glad her day had turned out just fine, Mother from Hell 1, Derek 0.
He yelped with pain and grabbed his sore foot and began to
hop back into the house to smooth over the trouble, how could he
even tell her where he had been, she would really think he had
gone cuckoo this time.
‘Honey I have just come back from Yemen, I woke up next to
a camel, was beaten with a stick and chased through a village
before being imprisoned by the chief of police, How has your day
been Dear?’
It was no use, his best option was a cold bath and a box of
Milk Tray for later, in his mind though, he knew he couldn’t have
travelled there conventionally, either that or someone had slipped him an acid pill.
God Boy was a little bit disturbed by the near demise of his
selected specimen, the Visioneer had insisted that marks would be
won only if it survived to experiment number two but it wasn’t as