Episode 5

Episode 5: Not The Crowbard

"Mmmmmyyyyyyyeeeeeeeeeeih...fwshhhhhhhhhhhhh"

The sound issued from Fishermans lips as he lay face down on the cobblestone, seemingly attempting to walk straight down in to it. All his limbs were performing the correct movements to walk, he was simply aligned on the incorrect axis. Above him a tall, willowy figure in a purple vest stroked his goatee with one hand while the other rested on a crowbar he appeared to be using as a walking stick.

Clem and Fishman both stood nearby, puzzled expressions on their faces. Well, I suppose exactly how much expression a fish can fit on to its face is open to debate however I'm sure Fishman has figured out some ways to express a more human range of emotions in order to better blend in with the general populace.

"That is nothing at all like a cheese." Fishman said.

"You...you must be...The Crowbard!" a horrified Clem manged to squeeze the words outside and around his mouth.

The vested man locked eyes with Clem and spoke for the first time in this episode, but not chronologically and certainly not for the first time in his life, "No." he said with his mouth "I am..."

With a slight shift of his foot he kicked the crowbar upward and snatched it out of the air in front of him. Spinning it in front of himself like a baton he spun a full turn on his heel. When he came to a stop he held the crowbar out horizontally in front with one hand, the other poised above it palm down, fingers splayed....

ONE HOUR EARLIER

The sun beat down mercilessly on Fishermans brow, as did the rain. Just how he was managing to be assaulted by both at once is a mystery unto itself, although I suspect it may have something to do with his offending both of them on a regular basis. Sailors will often curse the weather and simply learn to live with the resultant backlash.

The upshot to this meteorlogical mistreatment was that while the elements were focusing on Fisherman, anyone else directly next to him tended to benefit from a kind of reverse eye of the storm. In this instance it was Fishman and Jim Jub who were benefitting. How wonderful for them. They were on their way to meet a friend of Jim Jubs who was stopping by Fishingtown while on holiday.

As they neared the Uproad that gave the access to the spaceport, the weather eased off a bit on Fisherman. His response was not very mature.

"Ohhh ya' little girls blouse, have ya' run out of yer tears to be crying all over meself? I've felt more heat from a polar bears ARSE."

That is not the way to convince someone (or something) to stop harassing you.
At any rate, they made it to the base of the Uproad. They walked inside the wide arched entrance and sat down on the sofa that transported them rapidly upward to the orbiting spaceport. Patiently they waited under the wide, domed ceiling. Jim Jub lifted himself up on to the tips of his toes to peer over the heads of the crowd and resisted the urge to make use of his Jaguar powers to simply leap above their heads to gain a better vantage. Fisherman rocked idly back and forth on the balls of his feet, whistling tunelessly and peering up at the spotless white panels that covered the ceiling. Fishman doesn't have feet so he just kind of tapped a fin, at least he was in tune thuogh.

"Ooooo, there!", Jim Jub pointed excitedly over the heads of the crowd, "There he is!"
The excitement was too much and Jim Jub succumbed to it. Bunching his haunches he leapt high over the heads of the crowd and landed in front a lanky bearded man in a coat that looked to have once been finely tailored but had seen so many things a coat should never have to see, like a picture of a naked man with a pineapple covering his genitals.
"Clem!" roared Jim Jub, "Clem Babbage, you old transient!"

Clems eyes widened a tiny bit in what looked like shock, but he quickly regained his hobo demeanor and patted Jim Jub affectionately on the upper arm. Jim Jub hooted in glee and turned sideways, arm outstretch to introduce Fisherman and Fishman. Again, Clems eyes briefly opened up in surprise and again he quickly recovered. Fishman noticed this and was briefly surprised too but it didn't really show on his face since he always looks surprised.
"Clem, these are my friends Fisherman and Fishman. Say hello, Clem."

Clem said hello.

A short long distance away, a man in a purple vest stood watching, a long tubular case slung over one shoulder.

HALF AN HOUR LATER - AT THE PUB

They're all at the pub and it's half an hour later, at the pub. They've all been chatting with their mouths and the words that have come out have gone in to each others ears and even the ears of the people that aren't sitting at their table. Sound is like that, very omni-directional, which is why when many people speak at once you get a cacophany which mostly isn't all that good a thing unless you're in the Cacophany Choir, then that's not a bad thing it becomes a good thing.

Clem had been fairly close mouthed throughout the trip to the pub as well as during the first round of drinks but some people could get like that after a long voyage and the distance between destinations when speaking in terms of interstellar travel is immense, so one could assume the same for the measure of 'jet lag' when travelling said distances. At least, so Jim Jub reasoned to himself.

Fisherman had other suspicions...

"Yar, it be gettin on in the length of time don't it? We should be making movements of the legs out of here."

Jim Jub nodded, so they all stood up and started moving their legs in a walking motion towards the exit. As the small group stepped out the door to the pub in to the dazzlingly pleasant sunlight, they heard a voice call to them from across the street.

"Halt, Clem."

They all turned toward the source of the voice, but their eyes were still adjusting to the brightness so it was difficult to make out just the specifics of the man speaking. A tall, thin figure stood at the source and in his hand appeared to be some sort of stick or cane. Maybe an umbrella. He tapped the stick once on the cobblestones, flicked it up, caught it and held it up to point at Clem.

"Clem Babbage! You have f..."

The mans sentence was interrupted by bellow from Fisherman.

"Yar not be interferin' with us here now, yer stick wielding ponce! He be mine, I be claimin' vengeance on this sodden wretch!", and he sprung at Clem, hands outstretched, roaring, "I got yer this time PLUME BEARD!"

His outstretched hands latched on to Clems wiry beard and tugged fiercely in an attempt to pull it off to reveal the true plume beard hidden underneath. Nothing budged, but Fisherman was seeing red again. Clem backpeddled but Fisherman had a firm grip, having experience wrestling a variety of beasts out of the depths of the ocean.

The tall stranger was clearer now everyones eyes had adjusted more to the bright sun, and it was now clear he was a tall gentleman in a purple vest, a goatee framing his mouth and a crowbar in his hand. He had begun to lope closer and it became clear he was a man that moved with purpose and a kind of bandy-legged grace. A few paces closer now, he again tapped his crowbar and lifted it to point, this time at Fisherman.

"You, gentleman with a pipe, halt your assault!"

He clearly didn't know Fisherman well enough at all, words from a stranger are only likely to make him even more aggresive.

"Blasted words from a stranger!" Fisherman cursed, "They'll only make me more aggresive!"

Fisherman was standing on Clems chest, tuggnig at his beard twice as aggresively because he was now feeling more aggresive due to the words of a stranger.

The stranger frowned at Fisherman and spoke "Such aggresive behaviour, it will not do. No no no! You sir, you are a cheese and I will make you in to one!"

And with that he double tapped his crowbar on the cobblestones and flicked it in to the air where he snatched it out and held it vertically. He ran his fingers through the air to the side of the crowbar and a beautiful, eery, synthetic sound issued forth. Slowly, he released his hold on the crowbar with his other hand and formed an O with his thumb and index finger then began to wave this too in the air next to the now hovering crowbar.

Fisherman went rigid and collapsed face first on to the cobblestone.

"That is nothing at all like a cheese." Fishman said.

"You...you must be...The Crowbard!" a horrified Clem manged to squeeze the words outside and around his mouth.

"No." the stranger answered "I am..."

With a slight shift of his foot he kicked the crowbar upward and snatched it out of the air in front of him. Spinning it in front of himself like a baton he spun a full turn on his heel. When he came to a stop he held the crowbar out horizontally in front with one hand, the other poised above it palm down, fingers splayed. He released the hand gripping the crowbar, formed an O and began playing. The eerie tune rapidly built to a crescendo and then came to an abrupt halt as he spread his arms wide and a shower of sparks flew out from each palm. Each of the spars built in size and burst to reveal a swarm of bees. The bees flew off in all directions as the stranger revealed his name.

"The Mugician!"

"Oh, nice." said Fishman.

"Clem, you left your baggage at the terminal." said The Mugician.

Clem looked sad, to which The Mugician responded, "Don't look sad, I have a gift for you!" and he pulled a small professionally wrapped gift from somewhere on his person. Clem made a move to take it, but The Mugician threw it high in to the air above his head and pointed at it. It exploded in a small fireball. Clem looked even sadder until he looked back down at The Mugician, who was now standing in front of two suitcases.

Clem said "RAD."

----------------------EPILOGUE----------------------

The Mugician has joined the quartet for a few drinks at the pub before he heads on the road again, making music with his friends.

"What I don't understand about all this is why you looked so shocked to see us all, Clem." Jim Jub mused while he idly swirled his drink in his glass.

"Yarrrrr" agreed Fisherman, "Ye was looking mighty suspicious-like."

Clem downed a mouthfull of beer and spoke, "Jim Jub, you didn't tell me you'd become an Aztec jaguar warrior, of course I was surprised."

The obvious truth dawned over Jim Jub, but Fisherman still wasn't convinced "Yar, I spose that be makin' sense...but why be shocked apon the sight of me and me mate here?" he queried.

Clems eyes darted between Fisherman and Fishman a few times before he responded, "Well, you know. I didn't expect to see a Fisherman and a Fi-"

He was interrupted by Fisherman screaming "SAUCE", and performing a forward flip on to Clems head, striking him hard with his tail and knocking him unconcious.

Then The Mugician performed a cover of the closing credits theme on his crowbar.


THE END