Jazz Dalek (Part 2 of 3)
Heya. Part 2 of my fic "Jazz Dalek" is up. You can read it here on this LJ or read it and comment in the comm.
Part one can be found here or here.
Enjoy!
Title: Jazz Dalek
Pairing or Characters: Vince/Howard, OFCs, Naboo, Saboo, the Spirit of Jazz
Summary: Howard and Vince have an incident over a used CD, and their adventure takes them closer to home than one might imagine. (Not a x-over, despite the Doctor Who references)
Word Count: 2603
Rating: PG-13 (this chapter)
Warnings: None
Challenge: n/a. Although I am writing this story as a kind of personal challenge to myself, as I’ve tried to write it like an actual episode of the show. Wow, it’s really not easy!
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters and make no profit. May I be banished to Xooberon if I infringe upon copyright laws and overstep the terms of fair use.
Author’s Notes: Thanks to bluestocking79 for being my beta, and wiccarowan for Brit Picking part 1 even though this isn’t her fandom. Thanks to soulsister101 for our CD shopping trip that inspired the idea.
Please note part 2 has not been brit-picked. If anyone would like to offer their native British English-speaking services please let me know!
Jazz Dalek, Part 2 of 3
:sound of footsteps:
“Awright,” Vince greeted Naboo, who was sitting on the couch with Bollo.
“Yeah, we’re just gonna entertain some laaaadies for a bit, if you don’t mind clearing off,” Howard jumped in, feigning cool while making a brushing off gesture with his hand.
Bollo looked Howard up and down , rolled his eyes, then turned to Vince. “Just be safe,” he grunted.
“Don’t worry, we locked the front door,” Vince assured him. Naboo shook his head, grabbed his bong, and retreated back to his bedroom.
“I got a bad feeling about dis,” Bollo muttered as he followed Naboo.
The four sat on pillows on the floor, in a circle. Lana fondled the tassles at the end of her scarf. Tina gazed at Howard, pulled the bassoon off her headband and stroked it unconsciously.
“Sooooo, how are you ladies enjoying London?” Howard asked in his best smooth sounding voice before slipping on his pillow, resulting in a rug burn to his palm.
“It’s nice. It’s a lot like New York, actually,” Lana offered.
“New York? Wow!” Vince lit up. “The furthest I’ve ever been is Luton airport. Me mates and I nearly went to Bordeaux once. Got on the plane and ev’rything. But then the plane got caught in a giant Kestral egg dropping. Thousands of ‘em, yeah? Just flew over us and dropped their eggs. Imagine that! Whooooaaaaa, gonna scramble you travellers up. I was well disappointed we couldn’t take off. Bordeaux is one of my favourite colours. I’ve always wanted to be surrounded by it!”
“I keep telling you, Vince, the city isn’t . . ." Howard gritted between his teeth.
“Yeah, wha’ever,” Vince cut him off.
“I am a man of the world,” Howard shot back, jockeying to impress the girls again. It’s less a question of where I’ve been, more a question of where haven’t I been. Har har. That’s me. Howard Moon. Travelmeister. Conquers all over Europe!”
“Wot? You played conkers all over Europe?” Vince questioned.
“Nooooo, little man. Conquers. As in I’m the man who’s conquer . . . “
“Your balls, then? Did you take your kit off in front of people like that time in Leicester Square when . . .”
The girls shifted on their pillows and looked at one another.
“Ever take a bite out of the Big Apple, Howard?” Tina interrupted, pursing her lips. “You should come to our side of the Atlantic. I’d give you a big juicy tour of . . .”
Suddenly Lana’s mobile rang, interrupting the flow of conversation with the sound of the Doctor Who theme. She stood up and went in her purse to see who it was.
“Oh, I quite like the sound of that!” Vince jumped up. “Electropop. I’ve got Cars for my ringtone.”
“It’s Ten’s version, but I like them all,” she replied while peeking at the caller ID before tossing the mobile back into her purse and suppressing a smile. Vince tilted his head in mild confusion.
Tina screwed up her face in annoyance before quickly regaining composure, and reached out towards Howard. Vince shot her a look and she stuck out her tongue at him.
“Maybe you should pop in that CD you picked up at the shop,” Tina shot back through gritted teeth, while giving Vince the stink eye. She scooted a little closer to Howard. “After all, it was a JAZZ meetup where we met, not some electro crap get together. And I’d looove to feel some Jazz inside me. Would you like to feel a little Jazz inside you, Howard?” she circled one of the pompoms on her dress with a finger and then leaned over to stroke Howard’s knee.
Howard stammered. Vince made a vomit gesture. Lana smiled in embarrassed agreement with Tina. Blushing profusely, Howard picked up the case and walked over to the stereo. “I’ll just pop it in then, shall I?”
“Yeeeah, pop it IN Howard,” Tina cooed, licking her lips. “Let is creep inside ya.”
Vince took a double-take of Tina. He could swear he saw a flash of red in her eyes. Shaking it off, he shifted on his cushion and pulled a hand mirror from beneath the couch to check his fringe.
Soon, a cacophony of sounds filled the air.
Vince dropped the mirror and shrieked. “That’s terrible! Shut it off! I’m gettin’ hives!!!!” he wailed. “How many Euros did you pay for that rubbish?!”
“Actually, I forgot to pay for it.” Howard confessed. “I was so distracted by the lovely ladies here that I just walked right out with it.” He winked at Tina, who winked back.
As the music filled the air, Howard started to fall into a Jazz trance miming playing a trumpet. Tina cheered him on. “Oh yeah, Howard. Play it. Play that trumpet. Let the music get inside you. Ooooh. Ooooh.”
Vince went to smack him out of it, but Tina dropped her bassoon and pushed him away.
“Oi. What you do that for?” he confronted her. But a voice deep inside him whispered to step back. “You’re not right!” he declared. Tina gave him a menacing grin and then closed her eyes to sway in time with Howard’s air-trumpet playing.
Lana offered to put on something else, but Tina wasn’t having it.
“He’s deep in the juju,” she hissed. “And he’s mine now. Look at how willingly, too. Oooooooooh.” She wiggled her fingers and grimaced.
Vince’s eyes went wide.
Then with one last ooooooooooooooh, she burst into flames. Vince let out a yelp and jumped back. Lana plugged her ears with her fingers, and ran toward the kitchen looking for a fire extinguisher.
“HOT! HOT! Le Jaazzzzz hot, baby!” she crooned, seemingly unaffected by her sudden immolation. Then in the blink of an eye, she morphed into the Spirit of Jazz. “Won’t you play me, baby? This Jazz is HOT, baby.”
Vince shrieked in horror and Lana stood gobsmacked. Howard seemed totally oblivious to the presence of the Spirit of Jazz in his living room, continuing his Jazz trance.
Hearing Vince’s shrieks, Naboo and Bollo came running out of their room.
“What the hell is going on here?” Naboo yelled before taking in the full scene in the living room. “Oh no, not again.”
“I’m here for Howard,” the Spirit of Jazz informed him. “Ain’t no Hoover gonna stop me now sucka.”
“Yeah, thanks for statin’ the obvious,” Naboo shot back dryly. “How’d you get here this time, then?”
“I’z used one of my minions to get Howard to play this here CD, freeing me from it’s confiiiinement. Never trust a CD, ya here. One scratch and it’s ovah. Vinyl reckids are the only way to go for Jazz. Scratches just add depth and warmth. And CDs corrupt the sweet sweet souuuuwnd, ya know. Anywayz, now I’m here Imma gonna creep inside him like a worm in an apple. Get him to play all them juicy Jazz notes for me.”
Vince looked at Lana with a wounded look. “Well I knew not to trust the Jazz Dalek over ‘ere. But I trusted you! You listen to electro. And you accessorize. You even gave me sweets!” he squeaked.
Lana held up her hands. “Don’t look at me! I didn’t know she was a carrier for the Spirit of Jazz!”
Naboo picked up the CD case and held it to the light. “Oh noooo. This isn’t her fault. Look here. It’s got Saboo’s marking on it. He must have trapped the Spirit of Jazz in the CD. Guess I’d better summon him."
Sighing, as though having the Spirit of Jazz in his living room was more of a buzz kill than a danger, he closed his eyes and sang. “Saboo has a lot of dresses. Most of them by Halston. I never get tired of tell him, they’ll never sell in my shop in Dalston.”
Suddenly Saboo appeared, looking very annoyed. “I told you to stop summoning me with that stupid rhyme, you berk. It doesn’t even scan properly. Mary had a little lamb. Pfuh. And anyway, they would sell. You just have no fashion sense. Now why am I here? I was in the middle of writing an email to Tony Harrison, explaining to him for the eighty-seventh time why he has never and will never beat me at table tennis.”
“Just have a look, you idiot!” Naboo shot back, scrunching his face in frustration. “Look at the state of this room! It’s all your fault.”
“My fault? How is it MY fault?”
He then spotted the Spirit of Jazz panting and egging Howard on in his Jazz trance. “Oh, all right then. Give it here,” he motioned to the CD case. He waved a hand over it, but nothing happened.
“Bloody buggery bollocks! I can’t get him back in here. Someone in this room actually likes this crap music. The whole reason I trapped him in that CD was because I never believed anyone in their right mind would listen to it. What manner of progeny could possibly have been spawned to enjoy this audio assault?”
He looked Howard up and down. “There’s no hope for that one!”
“No!” Vince wailed. “I can’t lose Howard! Not to the Spirit of Jazz, Dalek, girl, whatever!”
“He’s a mine, now, little lady,” the Spirit of Jazz taunted back at Vince, gently edging the bassoon from Tina’s costume into Howard’s hand. “Just one little note, Howard. I knows you ken do it.”
“You’ll never have him!” Vince declared, surprising even himself with the sudden bravery. “Bugger off!”
“Whatchoo think I was gonna do? Just pop on over and make him a sandwich? Pick his nose? Give him a spongebath? His sweet ass is miiiiine. Ain’t nuthin’ you can do about it.” He rubbed his hands together and positioned Howard’s fingers on the bassoon.
Just then, Lana’s mobile rang.
DO DEE DOOOO, DEEEE DO DOOOOO. DA DA DA DA DAAAAH DUH DOOOOOH.
“Look! He’s frozen!” Vince squealed with delight. “Your ringtone put him in an electro trance!”
“But it won’t ring forever. Do something else. Quick!” Lana pleaded.
Vince grabbed the satsuma from inside his pocket and chucked it at the stereo, shutting off the CD. Then in a flash, he shot over to the Spirit of Jazz and his arms jutted about in a whirl of motion.
Saboo, Naboo, Bollo and Lana stared motionless as Vince’s cyclone of movement seemed to speed up time. He spun around the Spirit of Jazz, working some kind of magic.
“Howard’s mine!” he shouted triumphantly, as he spun around. “You’ll never get him!”
The Spirit of Jazz regained his composure.
“Oh yeah? And how are you gonna stop me?” he taunted.
Grinning widely, Vince picked up his hand mirror from the floor and pointed it toward the Spirit of Jazz. “This is how!” he scowled triumphantly. “I’ve got a BTEC National in Hair Design. Look at what I’ve done to your dreadlocks!”
Lana, Saboo, Bollo and Naboo gasped in unison.
The Spirit of Jazz looked in the mirror. “Noooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!! What did you do to my hair, mother licker? You done destroyed my look! Do you know how long it takes to grow dreadlocks that long? And now I gotta start all over again?!”
He had a high top fade with the words “Scat sucks” shaved into one side of his head and “Electro rules” on the other.
Vince let out a triumphant laugh. The Spirit of Jazz burst into tears and ran down the stairs. “I’m the Spirit of Jazz and you got me lookin’ like some god damned Kid n’ Play. This ain’t the 80s! I hate you!”
Howard came to and fell into Vince’s arms before the weight of him caused the two of them to fall onto the couch. Howard fell on top of Vince and clung to him. Vince stroked Howard’s hair, wrapped a platform booted leg around the back of his thigh and held him tight.
Lana and Saboo looked away. There was a moment of silence and then Naboo cleared his throat. Howard jerked back, sitting upright on the couch and Vince followed suit.
“Uh, as I was saying, Vince, Bordeaux is a colour, but that’s nothing to do with the place.”
“I see what you mean now,” Vince nodded in a pantomime of comprehension.
Bollo shook his head and muttered “Pathetic.”
Lana looked at Saboo, who looked her up and down.
“Thanks for nuffing, Saboo,” Naboo scowled. “Next time, don’t go leavin’ things where idiots like these can get their hands on ‘em.”
“Oh, you mean like you did with that book of dark magic? And like you could be of any use in this situation. You know nothing of the crunch!” Saboo shot back.
“Yeah, wha’ever,” Naboo replied, waving his hand down and shuffling back into his room. “I don’t need to tell you boys to clean this mess up, right? My buzz is wearing off.”
Vince and Howard looked at each other and nodded at Naboo like two schoolboys who’d just been scolded.
Lana picked up her mobile, curious to see who it was that rang her the second time. The name “M Berry” flashed on the screen. She blushed.
“What else you got on there?” Saboo asked her.
“Oh, you know. Bowie. Roxy Music. Stuff like that. I’ve got Bowie’s entire discography actually,” Lana beamed. “Bowie’s Berlin trilogy really changed my life.
Saboo rolled his eyes. “Oh here we go. Low. Heroes. Lodger. All his best work in your mind, right? The only thing that saves Bowie’s Berlin trilogy is Brian Eno’s production. Otherwise all you’d have are the crap songs of a deranged addict.”
Lana narrowed her eyes, jabbed a pointed finger in his direction and hissed. “You take that back! Bowie is a God. That’s blasphemy!”
“You know I’m right, little girl,” he taunted back.
Lana gasped and clutched her scarf in disbelief. “I know nothing of the sort! You’re mad. Seriously. What planet are you from?”
“Not this insignificant blue marble!” he scoffed.
Lana looked momentarily confused, but regained her composure. “And I suppose you hold the same opinion about Roxy Music?”
“Eno’s touch adds brilliant nuance to Roxy Music. That’s just self-evident,” Saboo responded tauntingly. “Much better than the bullshit munching romantic crap that came after he left.”
“Roxy Music was waaaay better post-Eno!” Lana countered. She stepped back and looked Saboo up and down. “You know what? I was wrong about you. It’s obvious you know nothing about music.”
“Oh and I suppose you swoon like a schoolgirl every time you hear Avalon,” he sneered.
“As a matter of fact, I do!” she replied confidently. “And if you had any ear for music, or knew anything about women for that matter, you’d know that album has a 100% success rate for getting one into bed.”
“Well, I might just have to see that to believe it,” he scowled, leaning in closer to her face.
“Well I just might have to play it for you, then!” she scowled back, a corner of her mouth turning up in betrayal.
“Well ok then. Maybe you should grab your purse,” he taunted.
“Well maybe I should!” her mouth now in a wide grin.
Saboo grabbed her hand and the two took off.
Vince looked at Howard, who sat sullen on the couch.
“Howard?”
No response.
“Howard?”
. . .
“Howard?”
. . .
“Howard? You fancy some sweets?” Vince pulled some strawberry boot laces out of his pocket. “Aw, c’mon Howard. Ev’rything will be all right.”
Howard took a strawberry boot lace and slumped further into the couch, chewing sullenly.
TO BE CONTINUED!
Part one can be found here or here.
Enjoy!
Title: Jazz Dalek
Pairing or Characters: Vince/Howard, OFCs, Naboo, Saboo, the Spirit of Jazz
Summary: Howard and Vince have an incident over a used CD, and their adventure takes them closer to home than one might imagine. (Not a x-over, despite the Doctor Who references)
Word Count: 2603
Rating: PG-13 (this chapter)
Warnings: None
Challenge: n/a. Although I am writing this story as a kind of personal challenge to myself, as I’ve tried to write it like an actual episode of the show. Wow, it’s really not easy!
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters and make no profit. May I be banished to Xooberon if I infringe upon copyright laws and overstep the terms of fair use.
Author’s Notes: Thanks to bluestocking79 for being my beta, and wiccarowan for Brit Picking part 1 even though this isn’t her fandom. Thanks to soulsister101 for our CD shopping trip that inspired the idea.
Please note part 2 has not been brit-picked. If anyone would like to offer their native British English-speaking services please let me know!
Jazz Dalek, Part 2 of 3
:sound of footsteps:
“Awright,” Vince greeted Naboo, who was sitting on the couch with Bollo.
“Yeah, we’re just gonna entertain some laaaadies for a bit, if you don’t mind clearing off,” Howard jumped in, feigning cool while making a brushing off gesture with his hand.
Bollo looked Howard up and down , rolled his eyes, then turned to Vince. “Just be safe,” he grunted.
“Don’t worry, we locked the front door,” Vince assured him. Naboo shook his head, grabbed his bong, and retreated back to his bedroom.
“I got a bad feeling about dis,” Bollo muttered as he followed Naboo.
The four sat on pillows on the floor, in a circle. Lana fondled the tassles at the end of her scarf. Tina gazed at Howard, pulled the bassoon off her headband and stroked it unconsciously.
“Sooooo, how are you ladies enjoying London?” Howard asked in his best smooth sounding voice before slipping on his pillow, resulting in a rug burn to his palm.
“It’s nice. It’s a lot like New York, actually,” Lana offered.
“New York? Wow!” Vince lit up. “The furthest I’ve ever been is Luton airport. Me mates and I nearly went to Bordeaux once. Got on the plane and ev’rything. But then the plane got caught in a giant Kestral egg dropping. Thousands of ‘em, yeah? Just flew over us and dropped their eggs. Imagine that! Whooooaaaaa, gonna scramble you travellers up. I was well disappointed we couldn’t take off. Bordeaux is one of my favourite colours. I’ve always wanted to be surrounded by it!”
“I keep telling you, Vince, the city isn’t . . ." Howard gritted between his teeth.
“Yeah, wha’ever,” Vince cut him off.
“I am a man of the world,” Howard shot back, jockeying to impress the girls again. It’s less a question of where I’ve been, more a question of where haven’t I been. Har har. That’s me. Howard Moon. Travelmeister. Conquers all over Europe!”
“Wot? You played conkers all over Europe?” Vince questioned.
“Nooooo, little man. Conquers. As in I’m the man who’s conquer . . . “
“Your balls, then? Did you take your kit off in front of people like that time in Leicester Square when . . .”
The girls shifted on their pillows and looked at one another.
“Ever take a bite out of the Big Apple, Howard?” Tina interrupted, pursing her lips. “You should come to our side of the Atlantic. I’d give you a big juicy tour of . . .”
Suddenly Lana’s mobile rang, interrupting the flow of conversation with the sound of the Doctor Who theme. She stood up and went in her purse to see who it was.
“Oh, I quite like the sound of that!” Vince jumped up. “Electropop. I’ve got Cars for my ringtone.”
“It’s Ten’s version, but I like them all,” she replied while peeking at the caller ID before tossing the mobile back into her purse and suppressing a smile. Vince tilted his head in mild confusion.
Tina screwed up her face in annoyance before quickly regaining composure, and reached out towards Howard. Vince shot her a look and she stuck out her tongue at him.
“Maybe you should pop in that CD you picked up at the shop,” Tina shot back through gritted teeth, while giving Vince the stink eye. She scooted a little closer to Howard. “After all, it was a JAZZ meetup where we met, not some electro crap get together. And I’d looove to feel some Jazz inside me. Would you like to feel a little Jazz inside you, Howard?” she circled one of the pompoms on her dress with a finger and then leaned over to stroke Howard’s knee.
Howard stammered. Vince made a vomit gesture. Lana smiled in embarrassed agreement with Tina. Blushing profusely, Howard picked up the case and walked over to the stereo. “I’ll just pop it in then, shall I?”
“Yeeeah, pop it IN Howard,” Tina cooed, licking her lips. “Let is creep inside ya.”
Vince took a double-take of Tina. He could swear he saw a flash of red in her eyes. Shaking it off, he shifted on his cushion and pulled a hand mirror from beneath the couch to check his fringe.
Soon, a cacophony of sounds filled the air.
Vince dropped the mirror and shrieked. “That’s terrible! Shut it off! I’m gettin’ hives!!!!” he wailed. “How many Euros did you pay for that rubbish?!”
“Actually, I forgot to pay for it.” Howard confessed. “I was so distracted by the lovely ladies here that I just walked right out with it.” He winked at Tina, who winked back.
As the music filled the air, Howard started to fall into a Jazz trance miming playing a trumpet. Tina cheered him on. “Oh yeah, Howard. Play it. Play that trumpet. Let the music get inside you. Ooooh. Ooooh.”
Vince went to smack him out of it, but Tina dropped her bassoon and pushed him away.
“Oi. What you do that for?” he confronted her. But a voice deep inside him whispered to step back. “You’re not right!” he declared. Tina gave him a menacing grin and then closed her eyes to sway in time with Howard’s air-trumpet playing.
Lana offered to put on something else, but Tina wasn’t having it.
“He’s deep in the juju,” she hissed. “And he’s mine now. Look at how willingly, too. Oooooooooh.” She wiggled her fingers and grimaced.
Vince’s eyes went wide.
Then with one last ooooooooooooooh, she burst into flames. Vince let out a yelp and jumped back. Lana plugged her ears with her fingers, and ran toward the kitchen looking for a fire extinguisher.
“HOT! HOT! Le Jaazzzzz hot, baby!” she crooned, seemingly unaffected by her sudden immolation. Then in the blink of an eye, she morphed into the Spirit of Jazz. “Won’t you play me, baby? This Jazz is HOT, baby.”
Vince shrieked in horror and Lana stood gobsmacked. Howard seemed totally oblivious to the presence of the Spirit of Jazz in his living room, continuing his Jazz trance.
Hearing Vince’s shrieks, Naboo and Bollo came running out of their room.
“What the hell is going on here?” Naboo yelled before taking in the full scene in the living room. “Oh no, not again.”
“I’m here for Howard,” the Spirit of Jazz informed him. “Ain’t no Hoover gonna stop me now sucka.”
“Yeah, thanks for statin’ the obvious,” Naboo shot back dryly. “How’d you get here this time, then?”
“I’z used one of my minions to get Howard to play this here CD, freeing me from it’s confiiiinement. Never trust a CD, ya here. One scratch and it’s ovah. Vinyl reckids are the only way to go for Jazz. Scratches just add depth and warmth. And CDs corrupt the sweet sweet souuuuwnd, ya know. Anywayz, now I’m here Imma gonna creep inside him like a worm in an apple. Get him to play all them juicy Jazz notes for me.”
Vince looked at Lana with a wounded look. “Well I knew not to trust the Jazz Dalek over ‘ere. But I trusted you! You listen to electro. And you accessorize. You even gave me sweets!” he squeaked.
Lana held up her hands. “Don’t look at me! I didn’t know she was a carrier for the Spirit of Jazz!”
Naboo picked up the CD case and held it to the light. “Oh noooo. This isn’t her fault. Look here. It’s got Saboo’s marking on it. He must have trapped the Spirit of Jazz in the CD. Guess I’d better summon him."
Sighing, as though having the Spirit of Jazz in his living room was more of a buzz kill than a danger, he closed his eyes and sang. “Saboo has a lot of dresses. Most of them by Halston. I never get tired of tell him, they’ll never sell in my shop in Dalston.”
Suddenly Saboo appeared, looking very annoyed. “I told you to stop summoning me with that stupid rhyme, you berk. It doesn’t even scan properly. Mary had a little lamb. Pfuh. And anyway, they would sell. You just have no fashion sense. Now why am I here? I was in the middle of writing an email to Tony Harrison, explaining to him for the eighty-seventh time why he has never and will never beat me at table tennis.”
“Just have a look, you idiot!” Naboo shot back, scrunching his face in frustration. “Look at the state of this room! It’s all your fault.”
“My fault? How is it MY fault?”
He then spotted the Spirit of Jazz panting and egging Howard on in his Jazz trance. “Oh, all right then. Give it here,” he motioned to the CD case. He waved a hand over it, but nothing happened.
“Bloody buggery bollocks! I can’t get him back in here. Someone in this room actually likes this crap music. The whole reason I trapped him in that CD was because I never believed anyone in their right mind would listen to it. What manner of progeny could possibly have been spawned to enjoy this audio assault?”
He looked Howard up and down. “There’s no hope for that one!”
“No!” Vince wailed. “I can’t lose Howard! Not to the Spirit of Jazz, Dalek, girl, whatever!”
“He’s a mine, now, little lady,” the Spirit of Jazz taunted back at Vince, gently edging the bassoon from Tina’s costume into Howard’s hand. “Just one little note, Howard. I knows you ken do it.”
“You’ll never have him!” Vince declared, surprising even himself with the sudden bravery. “Bugger off!”
“Whatchoo think I was gonna do? Just pop on over and make him a sandwich? Pick his nose? Give him a spongebath? His sweet ass is miiiiine. Ain’t nuthin’ you can do about it.” He rubbed his hands together and positioned Howard’s fingers on the bassoon.
Just then, Lana’s mobile rang.
DO DEE DOOOO, DEEEE DO DOOOOO. DA DA DA DA DAAAAH DUH DOOOOOH.
“Look! He’s frozen!” Vince squealed with delight. “Your ringtone put him in an electro trance!”
“But it won’t ring forever. Do something else. Quick!” Lana pleaded.
Vince grabbed the satsuma from inside his pocket and chucked it at the stereo, shutting off the CD. Then in a flash, he shot over to the Spirit of Jazz and his arms jutted about in a whirl of motion.
Saboo, Naboo, Bollo and Lana stared motionless as Vince’s cyclone of movement seemed to speed up time. He spun around the Spirit of Jazz, working some kind of magic.
“Howard’s mine!” he shouted triumphantly, as he spun around. “You’ll never get him!”
The Spirit of Jazz regained his composure.
“Oh yeah? And how are you gonna stop me?” he taunted.
Grinning widely, Vince picked up his hand mirror from the floor and pointed it toward the Spirit of Jazz. “This is how!” he scowled triumphantly. “I’ve got a BTEC National in Hair Design. Look at what I’ve done to your dreadlocks!”
Lana, Saboo, Bollo and Naboo gasped in unison.
The Spirit of Jazz looked in the mirror. “Noooooooo!!!!!!!!!!!! What did you do to my hair, mother licker? You done destroyed my look! Do you know how long it takes to grow dreadlocks that long? And now I gotta start all over again?!”
He had a high top fade with the words “Scat sucks” shaved into one side of his head and “Electro rules” on the other.
Vince let out a triumphant laugh. The Spirit of Jazz burst into tears and ran down the stairs. “I’m the Spirit of Jazz and you got me lookin’ like some god damned Kid n’ Play. This ain’t the 80s! I hate you!”
Howard came to and fell into Vince’s arms before the weight of him caused the two of them to fall onto the couch. Howard fell on top of Vince and clung to him. Vince stroked Howard’s hair, wrapped a platform booted leg around the back of his thigh and held him tight.
Lana and Saboo looked away. There was a moment of silence and then Naboo cleared his throat. Howard jerked back, sitting upright on the couch and Vince followed suit.
“Uh, as I was saying, Vince, Bordeaux is a colour, but that’s nothing to do with the place.”
“I see what you mean now,” Vince nodded in a pantomime of comprehension.
Bollo shook his head and muttered “Pathetic.”
Lana looked at Saboo, who looked her up and down.
“Thanks for nuffing, Saboo,” Naboo scowled. “Next time, don’t go leavin’ things where idiots like these can get their hands on ‘em.”
“Oh, you mean like you did with that book of dark magic? And like you could be of any use in this situation. You know nothing of the crunch!” Saboo shot back.
“Yeah, wha’ever,” Naboo replied, waving his hand down and shuffling back into his room. “I don’t need to tell you boys to clean this mess up, right? My buzz is wearing off.”
Vince and Howard looked at each other and nodded at Naboo like two schoolboys who’d just been scolded.
Lana picked up her mobile, curious to see who it was that rang her the second time. The name “M Berry” flashed on the screen. She blushed.
“What else you got on there?” Saboo asked her.
“Oh, you know. Bowie. Roxy Music. Stuff like that. I’ve got Bowie’s entire discography actually,” Lana beamed. “Bowie’s Berlin trilogy really changed my life.
Saboo rolled his eyes. “Oh here we go. Low. Heroes. Lodger. All his best work in your mind, right? The only thing that saves Bowie’s Berlin trilogy is Brian Eno’s production. Otherwise all you’d have are the crap songs of a deranged addict.”
Lana narrowed her eyes, jabbed a pointed finger in his direction and hissed. “You take that back! Bowie is a God. That’s blasphemy!”
“You know I’m right, little girl,” he taunted back.
Lana gasped and clutched her scarf in disbelief. “I know nothing of the sort! You’re mad. Seriously. What planet are you from?”
“Not this insignificant blue marble!” he scoffed.
Lana looked momentarily confused, but regained her composure. “And I suppose you hold the same opinion about Roxy Music?”
“Eno’s touch adds brilliant nuance to Roxy Music. That’s just self-evident,” Saboo responded tauntingly. “Much better than the bullshit munching romantic crap that came after he left.”
“Roxy Music was waaaay better post-Eno!” Lana countered. She stepped back and looked Saboo up and down. “You know what? I was wrong about you. It’s obvious you know nothing about music.”
“Oh and I suppose you swoon like a schoolgirl every time you hear Avalon,” he sneered.
“As a matter of fact, I do!” she replied confidently. “And if you had any ear for music, or knew anything about women for that matter, you’d know that album has a 100% success rate for getting one into bed.”
“Well, I might just have to see that to believe it,” he scowled, leaning in closer to her face.
“Well I just might have to play it for you, then!” she scowled back, a corner of her mouth turning up in betrayal.
“Well ok then. Maybe you should grab your purse,” he taunted.
“Well maybe I should!” her mouth now in a wide grin.
Saboo grabbed her hand and the two took off.
Vince looked at Howard, who sat sullen on the couch.
“Howard?”
No response.
“Howard?”
. . .
“Howard?”
. . .
“Howard? You fancy some sweets?” Vince pulled some strawberry boot laces out of his pocket. “Aw, c’mon Howard. Ev’rything will be all right.”
Howard took a strawberry boot lace and slumped further into the couch, chewing sullenly.
TO BE CONTINUED!