Print Page | Close Window Chronicles VI Printed from: Cycling Plus Topic URL: http://www.cyclingplus.co.uk/forum/topic.asp?TOPIC_ID=23619 Printed on: 23/09/2004 Topic: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Topic author: Ravenbait Subject: Chronicles VI Posted on: 20/04/2004 13:28:07 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop Vol VI No. 1 - Prelude Soundtrack: Vivaldi - The Four Seasons Starring The League of Gentlemen Cyclists: Gunner - the Adonis of two wheels Tim Pike - the charming Mr Pike EvilChuffy - a scallywag with a heart of gold Flying Monkey - guru and all round good egg Rigby - a true gentleman Derall - another Founder of the League of Gentlemen Cyclists Steelman - the Teutonic master of pleasure FatBloke - wanted by the Marine Mammals Defence Fund Sheriff Ron Strutt - keeping order in time of peril The Archaeologist - master of holes and the Don's right hand man Yenrod - The Archaeologist's personal bodyguard Macleach - Keeper of the Sacred Irn Bru Muckspreader - Deputy Sheriff Hairyhippy - Chief Gardner Gordon - proclaimer of the obvious things that other men miss Shen - full of oriental martial promise ZimZum42 - a proven companion of exotic taste and splendour Chris Land - not as slow as he says he is Nuttycyclist - not fruity, you know Bardsandwarriors - the Eddie Izzard of the Cake Stop Gonzo - the boy of the zebra stripes Bomber Castle - "If you can fly a Sopwith Camel, you can fly anything!" TooMuchCake - "There's no such thing." Somersetbiker - Butcombe's biggest fan AndyGates - wearer of a big, gay hat Brock - a gentle, quiet soul Tristram Shandy - a new face, as yet untested in battle Withers - the Godfather of C+ The Aquatic Fowl on Bikes Society: Cuddy Duck - founder of AFBS Pingu and Mrs Pingu - Also of the Pinniped Preservation Project Seagull J.L Seagull not forgetting MingMong Shane Gordy LamBO Groucho Oldnewbiker Rafletcher Jimbo Craig0201 Alans Wilf Terry Simplesbharris WeirdNeville Jokeyjon The Intrepid Sorority: Ravenbait - the High Priestess of the Temple Kathy Pike - a plucky and courageous gentlewoman Claire - she who runs the Cake Stop Bar and Grill Redshift - another plucky heroine with an eye for a sword Kitzy - a fair and innocent young maiden Peliroja - part of the London massive MrsDolcetto - Evil Bitch Queen of the High Street, but only to her friends Bagonabike - self-deprecating but really rather lovely Ariadne - another babe on a bike Arellcat - one of the Windcheetah Warriors Also starring: The Triple Goddess of Cycling - an oasis of sanity in a world gone mad Aeroflash - Ascended to the side of the Goddess and putting on a good show for a dead person Colin the Chief Controller - a fat goblin Mrs Colin - a gentlewoman goblin married to Mr Colin Helga - Temple Maiden and Steelman's latest pleasure Thought - a raven Memory - a raven Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Pike - a pair of rascally ferrets Captain Heinekenquaffer Fatarse - the Irn Bru Warrior's dreaded alter ego The Hollow Man - an old chum of Ravenbait's with some peculiar habits Various members of exotic pantheons of a pagan nature Additional members of the League of Gentlemen Cyclists and the Intrepid Sorority Temple Maidens Temple Guards Assorted ineffable denizens of A-Time Early summer in the Cake Stop. The air is carrying the first hints of the coming long, hot, scorching days, days of low-level ozone and high-level ozone holes. Spring has come early this year, the hotter seasons nudging the rear wheel of Winter in their impatience. Blackthorns are flowering, May blossom in early April. Frogs are everywhere, croaking their midnight chorus and hurriedly being ushered out of the Temple fountain before they can spawn by tutting Temple Maidens. The rooks and jackdaws in the rookery in the Seven Acre Wood are already lambasting their neighbours, jostling for nest position and stealing twigs from one another. High up on the Temple's highest roof, the gleaming tower of the Sanctum, a pair of ravens are nesting for the tenth year, and there are already three chicks squawking loudly up there. The snowdrops have come and gone, and now there are carpets of bluebells under the budding trees. There is electricity in the air on the cool, clear, still nights that are coming more frequently amongst the blustery April showers; the sharp tingle of green life just waiting to explode in a riot of leaves and flowers and the buzzing of busy insects. The bees have come out of hibernation and are looking for places to nest, lumbering around in that comical, ungainly fashion they have, as if slightly drunk or still half-asleep. And at the Cake Stop Bar and Grill, eager cyclists look forward to the coming season, a season during which ever more faces will come to this most hallowed of territories to discuss which saddle is best for a member of the Intrepid Sorority, especially on Thursdays; the rescuing of orphaned animals; who has the worst job; how to get a Campag rear mech to run on a Shimano block; and of course whether speed kills and if people should be forced to wear helmets. Some things never change. Anyone for a Garibaldi? * * * Claire has opened a book on how long the latest foray into the inevitable debate about whether speed kills will last before the first insult is hurled. Most people seem to be going for around page 6, and it's already on page 4. There is also a busy discussion ongoing about the proposed compulsory helmet bill, Up on the noticeboard, next to Pingu's petition to stop the Canadian pinniped cull, the date of the start of the Great Relay is posted in big, red letters, and occasional spontaneous clumps of discussion will break out as people try to work out how the handover will work. Time is also ticking onwards to the Dunwich Dynamo and several people are starting to worry about their fitness. Terry is busy trying to drum up as much support for his Guide Dogs challenge as possible and the jar on the counter is starting to look reasonably heavy. Yenrod is giving cause for concern. He is sitting by the giant aspidistra, the one known as "Uncle", and is eating Nutella from the jar with his fingers. His pupils are dilated and he is making even less sense than normal, but as he is not hurting anyone and doesn't seem to be about to turn violent, the general consensus is just to let him get on with it until he either feels like talking about it or returns to what passes for normal in Yenrod-country. Bardsandwarriors has re-appeared after a brief absence caused by moving house and losing his connection to the ætheric world in which Cake Stop exists. B3 is worrying about what is in the dried fish food he feeds his goldfish. The pixie-eared Chuffy has been having trouble tuning in to Radio 6 on the infernalinterweb and there was a brief moment of panic when it appeared that Chap magazine, that most excellent publication for right thinking gentlemen, had vanished. Fortunately, it was quickly rediscovered, the concern had merely moved to a more prominent address, as is right and proper. The lovely and heroic Mrs Pike, having come out in the top few contenders in Tristram's "Miss C+" competition, has taken delivery of a new bike, and some of the members of the Intrepid Sorority, having named themselves "Babes on Bikes" in a fit of devilish mischief while flirting with another establishment, are idly planning a full meet of the Sorority in order to christen the new steed with full and proper ceremony. The fair maiden Kitzy has also taken delivery of a new steed, although in her case she travelled many leagues hence to the fabled stud at which it was bred, and rode it home with her young gentleman friend Bomber Castle to provide knightly escort against the dangers of the road. Withers is still hanging around, despite the sad announcement that he is to leave the C+ turf for a galaxy far, far away, where he will no longer be dealing with transmission reviews and which is the best lock, but rather with matters for more offworldly, probably involving gruesomely misshapen foreheads, alien nymphomaniac space tottie and blue skin. Redshift has offered to help redecorate and is even now ensconced with artist's materials producing a design to grace the wall. There is some discussion ongoing about the rumour that the C+ crew is going to deputise some of the Cake Stoppers and turn them into a secret police force. This is making some people quite cross, despite assurances that it wouldn't be some form of secret police. Pbiggs is offering the usual advice on overhauling Campag Ergos and Ravenbait is crowing, appropriately, as she had placed an order for some replacement pads for her Met Stradivarius, and received a prompt email informing her that they had been shipped a mere 30 minutes later. All in all, things are good in the Cake Stop. There are no serious fights ongoing, everyone is getting on relatively well, and nothing catastrophic has happened in a little while. The Marine Mammals Defence Fund has even agreed to stop sending them threatening letters about FatBloke without him having to produce a blood sample to prove that he wasn't a whale. In Cake Stop terms, this is a time of heavenly, peaceful bliss and contentment. Of course, it cannot last. Otherwise, noble reader, there would be no story. Sam http://www.ravenfamily.org "What? No! We can't stop here! This is bat country!" Replies: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Gonzo Replied on: 20/04/2004 13:29:46 Message: What about Kit? If you are thinking of getting team kit then go here for the forum relay go here -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Gonzo Replied on: 20/04/2004 13:33:54 Message: Sorry, hadn't read the story when I did that. Ooops, sorry. If you are thinking of getting team kit then go here for the forum relay go here -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Kathy Pike Replied on: 20/04/2004 13:37:17 Message: And Ariadne? So that's where Sam's been. Oi woman, you haven't answered any of me emails about a Hugh- christening-bike-ogling pary. Top start to this edition though -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Contrary to popular belief, the apostrophe does not mean "look out, here comes an "s"". -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 20/04/2004 13:41:58 Message: What emails? Anyway, I'm just trying to sort out which weekend I'm doing the forum ride, and then I'll know when I'm free at the time it's released. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Kathy Pike Replied on: 20/04/2004 13:54:32 Message: Didn't you get my email? No wonder you didn't reply. I'll send it again. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Contrary to popular belief, the apostrophe does not mean "look out, here comes an "s"". -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: FatBloke Replied on: 20/04/2004 13:55:05 Message: "I don't like it Carruthers; it's too damned quiet!" ps, What's a "tample maiden" ? Don't give Terry ALL of your spare cash, sponsor me on the British Legion Pedal 2 Paris 2004: http://www.bmycharity.com/v2/bntanner -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TooMuchCake Replied on: 20/04/2004 13:58:03 Message: [profound voice] And so it begins...[/profound voice] Cool "You know, it's at times like these... that I really wish I'd listened to what my mother told me when I was young" "Why, what did she tell you?" "I don't know, I didn't listen!" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Kathy Pike Replied on: 20/04/2004 14:16:27 Message: Just realised the terrible unreality in your opus, Sam. A "speed kills" thread, already on four pages, without an insult? It'll never happen! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Contrary to popular belief, the apostrophe does not mean "look out, here comes an "s"". -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 20/04/2004 14:22:23 Message: That's just the current favourite page for the first insult. Maybe everyone has been lulled into a false sense of security and is merely being overly optimistic . Oh! Yes. There we go. Best close the book on that one, then..... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: somersetbiker Replied on: 20/04/2004 14:53:42 Message: It appears that the Cake Stop Cafe doesn't sell Butcombe, which is presumably why I'm not there. I'm probably in Croydon (no Butcombe there either, among most other things of a civilised nature). -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 20/04/2004 14:57:32 Message: Somersetbiker: it's really, really hard to keep track of everyone. The Cake Stop does sell Butcombe. I didn't mean to leave you out, I thought you were on the list. It's not meant to be comprehensive, anyway, or else it would take up 20 pages or so. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: kitzy Replied on: 20/04/2004 15:35:39 Message: Yay! The Chronicles are back! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Bible Basher Biker Replied on: 20/04/2004 15:45:45 Message: and even more yay, i'm in somehow?! I don't even know where the door is... I plan to live forever ... so far, so good -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: somersetbiker Replied on: 20/04/2004 15:52:30 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Ravenbait Somersetbiker: it's really, really hard to keep track of everyone. The Cake Stop does sell Butcombe. I didn't mean to leave you out, I thought you were on the list. It's not meant to be comprehensive, anyway, or else it would take up 20 pages or so. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It's all right, Sam. I should have put a in, as 'twas but a light-hearted riposte. Your Chronicles series is appreciated and enjoyed regardless of whether "I" am in the story or not. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Bible Basher Biker Replied on: 20/04/2004 16:07:26 Message: gosh, extensive research now indicates that I've been in before. Sorry for that oversight Sam, i feel honoured with the inclusion! I plan to live forever ... so far, so good -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: derall Replied on: 20/04/2004 16:10:44 Message: Oops, thought this was on the 'Holy War'. I was about to argue for EMacs... (Are we up to C6? - I must have missed the last one. Time for a search) ----- Monday is the root of all evil -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Bible Basher Biker Replied on: 20/04/2004 16:12:00 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Bible Basher Biker I've been in before. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Twice! Fighting bad-guys or something, without even knowing it. Now Thats heroic.... I plan to live forever ... so far, so good -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: hairyhippy Replied on: 20/04/2004 17:27:58 Message: Present and correct maam. Planted about 200 happy little red onions today. They are currently sitiing in a well manured constant vegetative state of ecstasy - the cheeky little monkeys. Charlie has developed a slightly concerning and very messy habit of trying to eat pebbles. Sam likes plant pots. What do you mean, its not the menhir you ordered? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Evilchuffy Replied on: 20/04/2004 17:29:31 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- HairyChap-->Charlie has developed a slightly concerning and very messy habit of trying to eat pebbles. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Hairy, this may come as a bit of a shock to you but...your son is an ostrich Sam Hippy - Get those recycled paper plant pots. Concentrated roughage ------------------------ Still want a seagull... ------------------------ -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: hairyhippy Replied on: 20/04/2004 17:35:16 Message: I think that Charlie thinks they are big sultanas. Sam just likes stacking pots. What do you mean, its not the menhir you ordered? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Evilchuffy Replied on: 20/04/2004 17:38:55 Message: Ah. Sultanas. Riiiiiight... Don't ever be tempted to buy old mill-stones for the garden. He'll think they're scones and break his wickle teef ------------------------ Still want a seagull... ------------------------ -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: hairyhippy Replied on: 20/04/2004 17:46:11 Message: LOL. He has been eyeing up Morris's tractor collection. What do you mean, its not the menhir you ordered? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Aeroflash Replied on: 20/04/2004 20:02:33 Message: Does this mean I'm still dead? :-( Matt 'The Problem with being a druid is, you've got to be prepared to make sacrifices' -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 21/04/2004 09:46:45 Message: Aeroflash is still dead, but that doesn't mean he's not in the story, just that I forgot to put him in the cast list (now rectified). Still calling for ideas, incidentally. You all know how it works by now. You've done so well coming up with preposterous rubbish in the past, don't let me down now ! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: rigby Replied on: 21/04/2004 09:53:28 Message: What about the evil monster Spen666? Look where you're going … not where you've been! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Evilchuffy Replied on: 21/04/2004 11:28:28 Message: Nooooooo! This is a public forum, start putting horrors like that in and we'll have to get it certificated! "Chronicles VI - Rated 18. May contain scenes of mild nudity, some smutty references and hugely detailed pedantic arguments. Not suitable for the hard of humour" ------------------------ Still want a seagull... ------------------------ -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: spen666 Replied on: 21/04/2004 11:30:38 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by rigby What about the evil monster Spen666? Look where you're going … not where you've been! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------------- Short Enough? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: groucho Replied on: 21/04/2004 11:50:25 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Still calling for ideas, incidentally. You all know how it works by now. You've done so well coming up with preposterous rubbish in the past, don't let me down now ! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Trip to Halfords? Pointing that 12 gauge of truth straight at your chest. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: newbie Replied on: 21/04/2004 12:10:07 Message: An expeditionary force to the lair of the Daily Mail? Maybe they find a collective of fairtrade South American Indians cycling to generate sufficent electricity to run the presses, so high on chocolate drink that they don't realise that Middle England has missed the joke? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: cuddy duck Replied on: 21/04/2004 12:11:12 Message: There are/were some unhappy bald blokes posting on The Smell of Hair. Might they have a role? I see pale pates glowing in the light of the full moon like so many monochrome belisha beacons, illuminating the secret way to.... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: newbie Replied on: 21/04/2004 12:36:19 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- unhappy bald blokes posting on The Smell of Hair -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ah, I've missed my support group meet. Back in a bit. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Brock Replied on: 21/04/2004 19:33:17 Message: Oh, is it Wednesday? Excellent start to what will be more great entertainment. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Pingu Replied on: 21/04/2004 20:19:16 Message: How about Dystecnics Anonymous fixing something Brussels weekend Pingu in Val d'Isère "You may ask yourself, 'Where does that highway go to?'" TV quiz drag nymphs blew JFK cox -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Aeroflash Replied on: 21/04/2004 22:11:58 Message: Thanks Sam, I'll never win Paris Roubaix and the craving for fame is so strong. I'm still working on the preposterous rubbis by the way... Anyway... Soundtrack - Ralph Vaughan Williams, Sinfonia Antarctica A familiar figure gazes across the valley at the Cake Stop. His piercing, unblinking stare systematically registers every one of the bikes lined up in the rack outside the hallowed tea rooms - the graceful frames are rendered minescule by the distance the wiry framed man is gazing across, but the clear warm air, the colour of Sauvignon Blanc allows him to identify every machine. He sees that of the Adonis like Gunner (wondering if the wound in his 'thigh' has healed yet), the sparkling Bianchi of Terry, better equipped than most of the machines in the observer's hellish peloton. And, with a shudder, the stalwart frame of Fingal, next to the gleaming tandem of the Pikes and a brace of Bromptons being the Nutties'. The cafe doors burst open. Armstrong (for it is he) stands at the door bearing a monstrously ugly chainset, recognized by many as a hideously outsized Dura Ace 10 speed, the teeth horribly sharp. 'Ah, the Cakestop,' he bellows. 'Hall of champions. Well, who among you will submit to a challenge?' He is answered by silence. Kitzy wishes that would-be Kwizatz Hadarach Thanatos was there and had perfected the powers of Voice, as no-one else seemed to. 'Is this the brave clan that has so oft defeated me? The heroic 'League'? The 'Intrepid Sorority'? Will no-one meet my challenge?' Ravenbait, her honour nearly taunted beyond bearing moves to stand, but Newbie, the gallant innocent catches her eye and motions her to sit again. 'I'll meet your...challenge', he tries not to stammer. 'Is this the best this hall of champions can muster?' laughed Armstrong. 'The squadra that beat my US Postal Team Time Trial outfit by harnessing A-Time? At least he has the chivalry that none of the rest of you share.' With an horrific grin, he pulls his jersey aside at the neck, and leans his head to one side.' 'What...what?' utters Newbie. Ariadne is struggling to remove the handlbars of her Brompton to fashion a weapon to defend poor Newbie, while Chartlotte and Speedy611 gather fixed sprockets to use as throwing stars. The Cake Stop is rallying to fight back while the deadly tourney presents itself. Armstrong, by way of explanation hands the chainset to Newbie and says: 'Strike, boy, strike - and do the best that you can. Your reward will be a return blow, nothing more.' 'Make sure he's in no state to give one' hissed Ravenbait. 'The Goddess is watching over you - honour her and you will come to no harm Newbie grips the chainset hard in his slick hands and swings for all he is worth. The chainset, for all its ghastly looks, is a fine weapon. It slices through the air, then through flesh and sinew, and Armstrong's head is bouncing dully on the rustic wood floor of the Cake Stop. The brethren and sisterhood gape as the eyelids twitch, and the Tour God's body, far from falling in a lifeless heap, moves to pick up the severed head... Matt 'The Problem with being a druid is, you've got to be prepared to make sacrifices' -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: redshift Replied on: 21/04/2004 22:18:06 Message: Oh ho... A Traditional theme, no less. A Quest! A Quest! L Windcheetah 176 http://www.redshift.uklinux.net/ ...handbuilt by daleks... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: newbie Replied on: 21/04/2004 22:28:44 Message: Oh bugger, if anyone wants me I'll be behind (and underneath) the counter -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: cuddy duck Replied on: 21/04/2004 22:50:02 Message: And still there'll be those who insist that Armstrong is 'clean'. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: road-runner Replied on: 21/04/2004 23:30:40 Message: With his decapitated head bouncing on the Cake Stop floor, Armstrong will definitely be 'clean' from now on. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Keith Oates Replied on: 21/04/2004 23:34:22 Message: But he is, I think -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: road-runner Replied on: 21/04/2004 23:39:11 Message: I do too. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Macleach Replied on: 22/04/2004 08:55:38 Message: Dura Ace 10 eh? Sounds like an impressive weapon to me. I shall consider swapping my trusty Campag Chorus. "If Heineken were a sports drink I would hold the world hour record" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 22/04/2004 09:39:56 Message: Aeroflash, you rotter! What have you started now? Are you telling me that Newbie's bike is called Gringalet? Well it is now! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: newbie Replied on: 22/04/2004 10:26:36 Message: Great, a name for my new bike before I've even got it. In fact, whilst I think about it, can I hang onto the chainset? - that's causing the delay in the build to-date. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 22/04/2004 12:21:36 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop Vol VI No. 1 Soundtrack: Queen - It's A Kind of Magic As the Tour God Armstrong reaches down, Brock murmurs in a bad American accent: "It also left a man's decapitated body lying on the floor next to his own severed head. A head which at this time has no name." Armstrong resets his head on his neck and instantly there is no sign that there was ever any injury. "I know his name," says the Priestess. "Well, yeah," says Keith Oates. "It's Lance Armstrong. He's quite famous." "Does this mean we get fried chicken?" FatBloke asks brightly. "Coming right up," says Claire. Armstrong looks a little puzzled at the lack of perturbation and apparent non-sequiturs, but hides it well. He was expecting more of a reaction than this. "You'll be wanting the return shot some time then, I take it," Redshift says amiably. "What's it to be? A year and a day? Three moons hence? Next season?" "Can't be that long," says Chuffy. "Have that hanging around for the next year? God, it would just be so passé so quickly darling. We'd all forget. We haven't even got next year's calendar on the board to pencil it in." "Plus," observes Frustruck, "we're all busy thinking about the Forum relay at the moment. We need a nice, easy date to remember." "How about," Ravenbait says thoughtfully, "August 1st? That's a good festival date. Appropriate too, what with it being about harvest and everything. On the beach at Dunwich. Then we can all have a fry- up and a swim." "You seem remarkably unconcerned that I am going to take your little friend's head off," Armstrong snarled. "Well, there's no point getting upset about it, is there? You made the challenge; he accepted. You followed the rules. I don't quite know what's got into to you today, Lance, given that I thought we'd sorted out our differences last time. I'm assuming it's just a bit of over-competitiveness. Or have you been indulging in something you shouldn't have, and these violent mood swings are the result? Didn't Pantani teach you anything?" "You should have accepted the challenge, Priestess, rather than cowering behind some stripling, wet behind the ears," Armstrong spits, stung. "You didn't ask me specifically, did you? Anyway. I've got more sense, Lance," she replies. "I don't need to prove anything to anyone." She lowers her voice. "What is it that you are trying to prove?" "1st August, then," Armstrong says, ignoring the question, eyes stormy. "See that you don't miss it," he tells Newbie. With that he stomps out of the door, leaving it swinging behind him until it abruptly slams shut, almost as an afterthought. "What have I done?" Newbie asks, shocked, and would have sunk to the floor but Rigby, being the perfect gentleman, whisks a chair across and underneath his behind. Ariadne gives Claire the bent eye and the lady proprietor brings over something distinctly alcoholic to help Newbie settle his nerves. "Let me see," says Aeroflash, who had dropped in to talk to Flying Monkey about something. "You've made the classic error of accepting a formally phrased challenge from a relatively new, insanely competitive and evidently irritable deity, and now you are bound to undertake a great Quest that will follow the basic formula of all the great Romances, and on the first of August Lance Armstrong will attempt to decapitate you. Your real name isn't Mattie Groves, is it? No? I wouldn't worry about it too much, then." "He's going to try to decapitate me?" Newbie whispered, gulping down some of the heady brew Claire had placed in his grasp. "That's the general idea," says Redshift, kindly. "But the Death Clock gave me longer than a couple of months!" Newbie protests, face pale, eyes wide. "I'm too young to die!" "I wouldn't worry too much," says Cuddy Duck. "I believe this entire episode will turn out to be one of those predictably mythic allegories regarding the Romantic ideal of chivalry, which, incidentally, was completely unrelated to the actual behaviour of knights at the time. I imagine you will just be just fine as long as you manage not to succumb to the demons of post-modernist relativism and keep your opinions to yourself. Or at least keep your pants on." "Why? Is he related to Ray Mears?" Chuffy asks. "The blue tits are nesting in the letter box again!" Kathy calls from the other side of the room. "Oooh! If Newbie is related to Ray Mears, all he needs to do is drop his shorts and then we can have roast blue tit flavoured with wild garlic," Chuffy squeals delightedly. That catches FatBloke's interest. "Are they like those funny little French things? I thought you were supposed to drown them in cognac." Newbie realises that he is losing their attention. "I don't want to die!" he wails. "Oh, don't worry," says Kitzy, blessed with the preternatural faith of the innocent. "I'm sure everything will be just fine." "Fine? Fine?!" Newbie exclaims. "I just chopped off Lance Armstrong's head and he stuck it back on again, and now he wants to do the same to me!" "Well," Kitzy wrinkles her brow in a delicate and endearing frown. "I think we do have some superglue, so I'm sure it will be okay." Newbie finishes the rest of his drink and gets up, stumbles across the bar and is served another. "What am I going to do?" he mumbles disconsolately. "You could always go up to the Temple and ask the Goddess for advice," Nuttycyclist suggests, clapping him manfully on the shoulder. "Anyway. We have plenty of time to work it out so try to relax, there's a chap." "Where's my X-Men 2 DVD?" comes an irate cry from the far side of the room. Claire's face blanches. "Quick!" says Kathy, whispering fiercely. "We'd better find it. She's got a Hugh mood. It's all that talk about going to see the new film. We either find her an X-Men video or we have to sit through the Alien Quadrilogy again and then go play hunt the alien in the basement and we haven't got rid of the scorch marks from last time." Newbie is left sitting alone at the bar while a mass hunt is conducted for the missing DVD, staring into his drink and feeling very small. "Don't worry, old chap," says Rigby. "It's almost Friday, what!" "Yeah," Newbie says miserably. "But, more to the point, it's almost May." Sam http://www.ravenfamily.org "What? No! We can't stop here! This is bat country!" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: rjevans6 Replied on: 22/04/2004 13:18:23 Message: A twisted journey to the heart of the American dream? Indeed. Res ipsa loquitur. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- "For every problem, there is a solution which is simple, neat and wrong." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: groucho Replied on: 22/04/2004 13:30:43 Message: Bang goes a sixth Tour for Lance! He just will not be able to concentrate with his fothcoming battle with newbie. The prize, I suggest newbie, could be Sheryl Crow! Worth fighting for or what? Pointing that 12 gauge of truth straight at your chest. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: newbie Replied on: 22/04/2004 14:05:19 Message: May be worth overcoming my natural cowardice and crawling from behind the counter for. Thanks for a Chronicles debut folks, I usually go to campaign for a white knuckle ride. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Evilchuffy Replied on: 22/04/2004 14:12:13 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Newbie-->I usually go to campaign for a white knuckle ride. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Far nicer in Cakestop Newbers Mostly... ------------------------ Still want a seagull... ------------------------ -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Flying_Monkey Replied on: 22/04/2004 14:44:35 Message: Can we have a Faulknerian journey to the sordid American underbelly - and I don't mean anything to do with FatBloke here - I'm not going anywhere near his sordid underbelly! - complete with banjos and dribbling idiot boys? Can we? (Soundtrack: Duelling Banjos from 'Deliverance') "Paw, Paw, them darn cyclists dun killt Lance..." "Son, get me ma shotgun and ma hatchet, gonna raise us a posse and kill us some two-wheeled freaks" "Yee-haw!" ----- The nature of Monkey was... outta here ----- -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: kitzy Replied on: 22/04/2004 15:28:25 Message: i read the Green Knight once, complete with thee's and thou's. i cant really remember why now though -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Macleach Replied on: 22/04/2004 16:30:43 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Flying_Monkey Can we have a Faulknerian journey to the sordid American underbelly - and I don't mean anything to do with FatBloke here - I'm not going anywhere near his sordid underbelly! - complete with banjos and dribbling idiot boys? Can we? (Soundtrack: Duelling Banjos from 'Deliverance') "Paw, Paw, them darn cyclists dun killt Lance..." "Son, get me ma shotgun and ma hatchet, gonna raise us a posse and kill us some two-wheeled freaks" "Yee-haw!" ----- The nature of Monkey was... outta here ----- -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You forgot, "Come on over here boy, gonna make ya squeal like a carbon rim on a rainy day" "If Heineken were a sports drink I would hold the world hour record" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: hairyhippy Replied on: 22/04/2004 17:40:25 Message: Patched dungarees at dawn so to speak. What do you mean, its not the menhir you ordered? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Aeroflash Replied on: 22/04/2004 20:02:39 Message: Ah, it would be falling into the Tour God's trap to expect Sheryl Crow as a prize. I dare say that it'll be her hanging around Lance's pad in Nice trying to seduce poor old Newbie while Lance is busy trying to win up the Alpe D'Huez, ready to exchange his winnings with whatever Newbie should happen to ahem, come across. Matt 'The Problem with being a druid is, you've got to be prepared to make sacrifices' -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 05/05/2004 14:29:58 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop Vol VI No. 2 Soundtrack: Green Day - Nimrod Having accepted the challenge to duel with the Tour God Armstrong come dawn after the Dunwich Dynamo, the young buck Newbie has been trying to distract himself from the prospect of inevitable doom by discussing the merits of describing the Raleigh Grifter as the world's first mountain bike, and helping Cookiemonster catch up with the goings-on after returning from his trip to Finland. The Cake Stop is a-buzz with discussions about The Great Forum Relay. Gonzo is holding court near the large, perspex map he has set up in front of the dart board, by the juke box, on which there is a map of the country peppered with blue and red dots, and a small flag to indicate the current location of the C+ jersey that is being couriered from rider to rider. That current location is with Whichway, having already been passed from Gonzo to Rob Sallnow, to Ravenbait and Chuffy, then to Bagonabike, Kitzy and Bomber Castle, and GruB. So far it is going swimmingly, with only a couple of minor disagreements that are of little importance as far as the spirit of the event goes. May has come. Only three months to go until the dread day, and Newbie is the only one showing any sign of concern, much to his dismay. The rest of the Cake Stoppers are more concerned by lack of response from Barry, the intrepid gentleman from that splendid bunch of fellows the Southwark Cyclists. He is organising the return trip from Dunwich. Newbie, unsurprisingly, isn't terribly concerned about the return trip. He is finding it a bit difficult to worry about the journey when his primary regard is for the decapitation scheduled to take place prior to departure. Summer is now well and truly in the air, although the April showers are being reluctant to release their hold on the weather entirely. Cycle commuters are appearing out of the shadows; members of that strange breed who hibernate all winter in the drab plumage of a cager, and who then come out resplendent in lycra as soon as it looks like they can get away with not having mudguards fitted. In fact, the Cake Stoppers are all spending so much time out enjoying the rapidly improving weather that not much is happening in this most famous of establishments. Even your humble narrator is disinclined to keep track of all the various minor conversations and banter when there are dry roads and sun outside the window. "Chuffy, what are you doing with that dog?" AndyGates asks from his position at the bar, where he is taking a blood sugar reading to find out what the large box of jammy doughnuts he has just consumed has done to his biochemistry. Chuffy drags a scruffy mutt in through the door. "He's a lurcher," he says. "I'm going to see if we can get Kathy and TooMuchCake to genetically modify it so it will grow wings. Then we can go lamping for badgers." "You don't need a flying dog to go lamping for badgers," scoffs Gunner. "You just need to know how to approach them in the correct seductive fashion. It is all laid out in the manual. Badgers have elbows too. Grab their attention by riding past in an Adonis-like fashion on the Giant OCR Team replica, and then get within elbow range. None of this lamping business." "These are flying badgers," Chuffy explains, undaunted. "The only other way to do it is to get a hell- hound and a trebuchet." "Sorry?" Withers asks, completely confused. He still hasn't left. "You need the hell-hound because it has big, glowing eyes and flying badgers are attracted to light. You need the trebuchet because there is no other way to get a hell-hound into a tree. Obviously." He rolls his eyes, as if this were the most basic thing and even a three year old would know. "Has Chuffy been licking toads again?" Rigby asks sharply, frowning. "Doesn't Ravenbait have a hell-hound?" Fatbloke says. "Aardvark?" Chuffy looks sad. "I don't know what ever happened to him. Anyway. I'd rather have a seagull." "We could go find Kehaar for you," Redshift suggests. "No," Chuffy sighs. "He's not the right sort of seagull." "Why do you want to go lamping for badgers anyway?" Brock asks, looking a mite put-out. "They eat hedgehogs," Chuffy says grumpily. "I don't think flying badgers eat hedgehogs," muses Macleach. "Although Gordon Ramsay might." "Well I don't think he's likely to come round here," Jimbo opines. "Clare runs a lovely kitchen." "Yes, Clare is very lovely," Chuffy beams. "Although not as lovely as Bags. Or the blessed Winona." He lets the dog go, face turning somewhat dreamy as he becomes lost in some pixie-ish daydream involving skinny women and chocolate sauce. The dog beetle-clicks across the hard, wooden floor and sits by the bar, waiting for someone to feed him beer and chips. Terry takes pity on him, wondering if he might make a good guide dog. The wings would be an issue, of course, but Chuffy might give up on the badger-lamping idea before the plan got as far as Kathy's secret lab in the basement. Clare, at this point, is making sure all the cakes and pastries are labelled so that nut allergy sufferers can tell which ones to avoid. Cuddy Duck has been quite taken by a new face amongst the Campaign crowd. Howard is admirably holding his own against the loud and persistent, but sparsely populated motoring fraternity that frequents the establishment. It looks like he may even have managed to put a curb on the wilder excesses of Spen666, the Cake Stop's occasional legal expert, who was once bitten by a troll and never really got over it. Suddenly Newbie stands up, knocking over a chair, stands on a table and shouts: "What are we going to do about my head?!" "If your head comes away from your neck, it's all over," murmurs ZimZum42. Aeroflash drifts over from where he had been looking at the map for The Great Forum Relay. "Come on, Newbie," he says, gently but firmly taking the other man by the arm with one insubstantial hand outlined in coruscating sapphire. "Let's go talk to the Goddess. I'm sure She will be able to help." Sam http://www.ravenfamily.org "What? No! We can't stop here! This is bat country!" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: spen666 Replied on: 05/05/2004 14:36:31 Message: Fame at last ---------------- We come in peace, We'll leave you in pieces (C) Bexy 1988 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Gordon Replied on: 05/05/2004 14:56:43 Message: Bloody Hell, Sam. I was just scrolling down to read Vol VI No.1 after putting a Queen CD in the computer when "It's a Kind of Magic" started playing at the same time as I read "Soundtrack - It's a Kind of Magic" That's spooky. BTW, have you read Ella Minnow Pea yet? A wordsmith like yourself would like it a lot, I'm sure. A totally original story. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 05/05/2004 15:13:31 Message: Gordon: I do my best, you know . I haven't read that, no, who's it by? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Whichway Replied on: 05/05/2004 15:15:13 Message: A mention -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Evilchuffy Replied on: 05/05/2004 15:51:55 Message: Oooh, choccy sauce.... ------------------------ Still want a sloth... ------------------------ -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Gordon Replied on: 05/05/2004 16:24:56 Message: A review here, Sam. http://mostlyfiction.com/humor/dunn.htm -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: FatBloke Replied on: 05/05/2004 18:43:16 Message: Bit disappointed with the soundtrack on this one. I don't like to complain; but when I saw "Nimrod" I was expecting a bit of stirring, patriotic, makes yer proud to be British, Elgar. But it wasn't. Never mind, I've put the Enigma Variations on the CD anyhow!! Don't give Terry ALL of your spare cash, sponsor me on the British Legion Pedal 2 Paris 2004: http://www.bmycharity.com/v2/bntanner -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TimC Replied on: 05/05/2004 21:44:23 Message: Newbie, it'll be all right, son. All you've got to do is deny Lance the coup de grace by removing your own head!! That'll show the competitive little Yankee git! Just make sure you have an arrangement with the Priestess for copious amounts of Superglue and an appropriate Spell or two, and all will be as before - well, mostly, I'm sure. Now, about that visit to Halfords..... What day is it? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Brock Replied on: 05/05/2004 21:55:07 Message: Brilliant stuff Sam and Matt. Love the flying badgers, I always knew we'd develop as a species. I am of course a rare and very elusive, sea badger. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: newbie Replied on: 05/05/2004 22:01:50 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- removing your own head -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- A few choice phrases in Campaign and it will be off before I know it -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Evilchuffy Replied on: 05/05/2004 23:34:37 Message: Could we not fit Newbie's neck with some kind of QR mechanism? ------------------------ Still want a sloth... ------------------------ -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: newbie Replied on: 05/05/2004 23:41:13 Message: And have it nicked outside the library by some passing yobbo -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: PW Replied on: 06/05/2004 04:11:40 Message: The demon ain't scary enough, send for LS853 off the Velonews Phorum, he'll eat Spen for breakfast. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: groucho Replied on: 06/05/2004 08:31:51 Message: Love the flying badgers. Don't think Grey Ghost is as appreciative. Lets have more flying animals. ... and fruit! Pointing that 12 gauge of truth, straight at your chest. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 17/05/2004 22:25:50 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop Vol VI No. 3 Soundtrack: Leftfield - Leftism Aeroflash claps one hand manfully on Newbie's shoulder, almost knocking out a tooth, and leads him out of the door and across the vast plantation of Sheffield stands. With the advent of Summer, the tiny silver buds that had been threatening to rust in Winter are now shooting forth, sending out suckers that find tiny cracks in the tarmac and root fast and deep and hard, forming gleaming new lines of racks to provide space for the yearly influx of new cyclists. It is one of the best things about the Cake Stop: the way it can swell, expand and welcome incomers with barely a sign that anything is changing. The way it grows is organic, and everything that is part of the Cake Stop is also, in its own way, organic. Hence the stands reproduce, occasionally producing freak mutations like those with extra bars or, memorably, the one in psychedelic pink paisley. Newbie has not visited the Temple before. Not many of the Cake Stoppers have. It's not that they are not welcome there, or that they feel they cannot go: most of them simply do not want to. He stays close by Aeroflash as the ghostly yet manifest cyclist guides him through the Blackthorn Wood, where the holes have owls and the owls have holes; over the tiny bridge across the silver stream, where lives the troll that bit Spen some time back and who, even now, occasionally tries to ambush wary travellers with tales of safe speed and how faster cars are safer. Then it is a short stroll across the meadow, where the buttercups are reflecting the golden splendour of the sun and bees are humming between the flowers like little dots bouncing out sets of song lyrics. Daisies nod lazily to the butterflies and purple clubs of clover wait to be picked as weapons by the worms in their battle against the shrew army. The Temple itself is gleaming in the hot summer sun, the spire of the Sanctum driving up into the searing blue sky, so high that even on a day like this there are tiny wisps of vapour somewhere near the top. The ravens look down from their nest, cawing and croaking. The high doors of heavy, panelled oak, held fast with hinges made by Hope to the specifications of the Temple clergy, stand open, letting some of the cool dimness of the Fountain Room spill out onto the precinct. The glimmers of the sacred chainrings hanging from the ceiling can be seen from some distance away. Inside there is the fountain, gushing and splashing, with the sacred sword Caledfwlch stuck fast into the black rock beneath the cascading water. There is a titanium MSR mug on a thin chain attached to the fountain, there for quenching the thirst of weary travellers. Newbie lets his fingers pass through the water, finding it shocking, icy cold. A small group of long, lean and graceful Temple Maidens pass them on their way about their duties, smiling sunnily at Aeroflash, who is well known to all the Temple. A pair of Temple Guards, their Adonis-like looks making it all too clear from whence they got their handsome features, are standing one each side of the archway that leads from the Fountain Room into the main part of the Temple. Each is carrying a six-foot drift, and has an evil-looking chainset hung from his belt. Newbie swallows, nervous, but Aeroflash reassures him and leads him through into the Temple. It is quiet in there. Dust motes hang in the air like effervescent plankton, and beams of light pierce the gloom in discrete shafts, penetrating the vast space from hidden windows. Marble floors and stone walls cause every slight sound to echo, amplifying everything from a scuff of cleat on floor to the slight grating sound of lycra clad-legs brushing past one another each stride. A slight, petite but perfectly formed Temple Maiden hurries over, somehow remaining noiseless. "Philippa is away at a training camp in Italy with Steelman and Helga, Aeroflash," she says in a soft voice, hushed to dampen the echoes rather than out of any sense of modesty. She has an incredibly sweet smile. "I'm not here for a massage, Flo." Aeroflash tells her. "Newbie needs to talk to the Goddess." "Oh!" The Temple Maiden called Flo bites her lip in an unconsciously provocative expression. "Has Ravenbait not been performing her duties?" "We are not being neglected, if that is what you mean," Aeroflash replies. "She just hasn't seen Van Helsing yet, and the weather has turned good enough for the Pinarello to come out: I think it would be best to talk to the Goddess direct. Ravenbait might be a little distracted at the moment." "Mmm. Yes. I see what you mean. You had best come through." She smiles, blue eyes dazzling, and leads the way to the Sanctum. They walk in, and a single drop of water falls from high up in the tower, a tiny globule of refracted sunlight, liquid sun falling with impossible slowness and clarity to splatter upon the inlaid marble floor. In the shadows surrounding the sunbeam-illuminated mosaic of the sacred chainset there is just visible the outlines of the vast statues of the three aspects of the Triple Goddess: Road, MTB, BMX. Newbie stands and stares, not quite able to comprehend what he is seeing. Aeroflash steps forward and murmurs a low intonation, bowing his head briefly, then retreats once more and looks up. The statues come to life, metal and stone gaining organic warmth, skin softening and becoming animate. With the slowness and inevitability of tectonic plates, they move forward onto the edge of the circle of light and look down. "Aeroflash," the Road Goddess says with a warmth that her glittering black eyes could never express. "Still here?" "It is impossible to stay away, my Lady," Aeroflash replies with a slight grin. "And what have you brought for us?" asks the MTB Goddess. The BMX Goddess leans forward, bending over with her hands on her knees, roughly plaited hair falling over her shoulder. She grins. "Someone new! This is most excellent. Dissed any fruitbooters recently, Newbie?" "Um…argh…" Newbie gargles, lost for words at the sight of a sixty-feet high BMX babe's perfect cleavage. "I think the cat's got his tongue," says the MTB Goddess. "Not the cat, my Lady," Aeroflash says, with tones mildly reproachful at their teasing. "No, not the cat," the Road Goddess sighs. "One day, perhaps, Lance will lose his arrogant streak; however, for the meantime, I expect that you have come to us for help." "Yes, my Lady. Newbie is somewhat concerned about the integrity of his head-neck combination," Aeroflash says. "I can see that would be a concern," says the MTB Goddess. "If your head comes away from your neck, it's all over." "It would suck mightily." The BMX Goddess nods. "I thought you might be able to offer some advice," Aeroflash adds. There is a moment's pause, an eternity caught in an instant of deific contemplation. Another drop of molten sunlight falls with infinite care and consideration from the high ceiling to splash upon the floor. The Triple Goddess stands tall, each aspect moving in unison with Her sisters. "Hark, young Newbie, and heed well," declaims the Road Goddess, the glittering black of her eyes as sharp as diamond. "You have been set a Challenge, and that Challenge you have accepted. The die is cast; you may not retreat. Go ye then. Go ye on a Quest to find that which will keep ye from harm. Go ye on a Quest and find that which will aid and abet. Go ye on a Quest and choose from your fellows of the wheel one companion to ride with you, to stand by you, to take the wind when fatigue would claim you and to keep you on the road in the hard, dark times. Only one may you take, mark ye: only one, and that one must agree and come willingly, of his own accord. "Go ye, Newbie. The road lies ahead. It awaits." The three pairs of eyes look down upon them, three sets of glittering orbs in onyx, emerald and sapphire. "Go," say the Sisters of the Wheel as one. They step back into the shadows and life retreats from the stone and metal representations. Newbie stands for a while, unable to move. Aeroflash waits, considerately giving him time to comprehend what he has just seen and heard. Only when a final droplet of golden water falls to the floor does Newbie come back to himself. "A Quest?" he asks, as Aeroflash gently but firmly leads him out of the Sanctum: not an appropriate place for discussions. "I don't know what I'm looking for or where to go or anything!" "Why don't you choose your companion and see if that helps," Aeroflash suggests gently. "Choose?" Newbie repeats. "Yes. Choose who you would like to go with you," Aeroflash tells him, nodding to Flo and some other Temple Maidens as he steers their course towards the door. "But who?" Newbie asks, sounding rather lost. Who indeed? Sam http://www.ravenfamily.org "What? No! We can't stop here! This is bat country!" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Pingu Replied on: 17/05/2004 22:34:27 Message: Snuck out at 25 past 10 on a Monday night - like a New Labour press release Some cycling photos "You may ask yourself, 'Where does that highway go to?'" TV quiz drag nymphs blew JFK cox -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 17/05/2004 22:39:33 Message: I'm kind of busy at work right now and don't really have time to spend a couple of hours churning out 1500 words for the Chronicles -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Brock Replied on: 17/05/2004 22:40:42 Message: I was just about to call it a night, when up pops the next Chronicles episode. Wha hey!! Had to open another bottle of wine and settle in for the ride. Nectar storyline Sam. Take a temple maiden, Newbie. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Gonzo Replied on: 17/05/2004 22:41:22 Message: But when you do churn it out, it is like pure gold pixels of story telling. If you are thinking of getting team kit then go here for the forum relay go here -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 18/05/2004 09:38:45 Message: HINT: Newbie, you need to choose someone and hope he or she agrees to go with you. Otherwise we can't progress. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: newbie Replied on: 18/05/2004 09:44:40 Message: Ah, spent this very night pondering this. Can I pick a temple maiden for 'moral support' and have the cakestop regulars to do the dangerous scary bits? I've always had a healthy fear of danger and daring exploits, in fact I have a note from my mum. If Gunner could give me a few pointers moral-wise perhaps he could then pop off to sort out this quest thingy? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Flying_Monkey Replied on: 18/05/2004 09:46:09 Message: Yay - 'Leftism' - about time! ----- Typical me, I started something... ----- -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 18/05/2004 09:56:17 Message: No, you can't have one of the Temple Maidens. Or one of the Guards. Come on, help me out here! You have two options: you can pick one of the regular cast members and hope he/she thinks it's a hoot and joins in with the fun. Or, you can pick another forum regular who isn't one of the regular cast members, I'll write him in anyway, and we'll hope he doesn't mind or doesn't find out. The former would be preferable. I'm more likely to get plot suggestions that way . -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: rjevans6 Replied on: 18/05/2004 13:13:31 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Pingu Snuck out at 25 past 10 on a Monday night - like a New Labour press release Some cycling photos "You may ask yourself, 'Where does that highway go to?'" TV quiz drag nymphs blew JFK cox -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Did I miss somehting? Was it a bad news day? --------------------------------------------------------------------------- "For every problem, there is a solution which is simple, neat and wrong." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Macleach Replied on: 18/05/2004 13:25:34 Message: I could give you some war chainset training along the way. Gunner, elbow touching, Chuffy, joke telling, Sam, fast bike riding and general assorted diety guidance. Oh, and Irn Bru too, lots of it. Cheers ! "If Heineken were a sports drink I would hold the world hour record" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: newbie Replied on: 18/05/2004 15:01:29 Message: Well, if I can't lag behind with a maiden and you won't accept a note from my mum, would Lord Chuffy come with me? he might be invaluable in taming any mythical wild beasties. Possibly Hairy Hippy who's gardening talents may help us find provisions along the way. Aeroflash got me into this mess so I'm not taking him, he's likely to push me forward to exercise some fool heroic deed or some such. Mr MacLeach's advice sounds handy, but if I have to wait as long as I just have for Mr Shimano's chainset to be delivered I'm stuffed! Could Redrum sort out a couple of horses? (nice placid ones with a talent for running away at speed). If Chuffy is otherwise engaged, could I hide behind Fatbloke? I'm not going with the fair Kitzy or Sir Gonzo, I'll never keep up. Right, now I'm off for a ride around the Peak District, they filmed the Lair of the White Worm around here so it will familiarise me with territory. Then I'm off to buy a nice long scarf and a vest, if I've got to go Questing I'm not catching a chill. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 18/05/2004 15:43:24 Message: Chuffy is currently otherwise engaged, I fear. Fatty?! What say you? Could you cope without Rigby? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TimC Replied on: 19/05/2004 21:33:21 Message: Not doing dangerous bits; I think I'm allergic to them. Quite happy to watch other peeps (who might need a bit of life experience to exaggerate to the grandkids one day) take on all that kind of stuff. Now, as to who'll look after the Temple Maidens while you're away, I think you'll find there's no more upstanding and gallant chap than me, and you can be certain they'd be in safe hands. Honest. No, really. Awwww, pleeeeesee........! What day is it? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: newbie Replied on: 19/05/2004 21:49:58 Message: Oh, great. I'll go out questing with nothing more than a spare vest and a pointy stick whilst others show their support by cavorting with maidens. My chainset is still on back-order at the Cakestop LBS and MacLeach is keeping a low profile, the only chainset advice I can find in Know How is upon the problem of squeaking . And let me say now, if there's any squeaking to be done it'll be coming from yours truly. Sam, please reassure me that the noble Lord Chuffy is not available because he has gone ahead to deal with any wee beasties that may lie on the path, particularly the creepie crawly or scuttly kind . Earl FB doesn't seem to have responded to Sam's call to arms, what if Squire Rigby were to come too? in fact the more the merrier, what about a sort of Quest coach party ... I'll just sit here at the back -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: FatBloke Replied on: 19/05/2004 22:37:06 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Ravenbait Fatty?! What say you? Could you cope without Rigby? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- admirably!!! Don't give Terry ALL of your spare cash, sponsor me on the British Legion Pedal 2 Paris 2004: http://www.bmycharity.com/v2/bntanner -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: newbie Replied on: 19/05/2004 22:47:24 Message: Well done that man, have a pointy stick and a scarf. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Kev67 Replied on: 19/05/2004 22:48:37 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Ravenbait [center]Chronicles of the Cake Stop Vol VI No. 3 ["Oh!" The Temple Maiden called Flo bites her lip in an unconsciously provocative expression. "Has Ravenbait not been performing her duties?" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You must tie her to a bed and spank her, and then do what you like with her. Honk till you bonk. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Pingu Replied on: 19/05/2004 23:39:16 Message: A spanking, a spanking! Some cycling photos "You may ask yourself, 'Where does that highway go to?'" TV quiz drag nymphs blew JFK cox -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TimC Replied on: 20/05/2004 00:33:22 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by newbie Well done that man, have a pointy stick and a scarf. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I may have the odd strong curse or two I could lend you, plus a not-inconsiderable amount of slightly moistened (but not perfumed) wipes. If really pushed, I might even offer you an antique catapult the needs only 21st century elastic to ensure that it breaks catastrophically when you most need it. (Ahem) Would I need any of those french thingies with these here maiden types? Only - you understand - if they should get a bit frisky. I mean, I wouldn't presume.... Oh, my goodness, no. But, just in case..... What day is it? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 20/05/2004 14:21:09 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop Vol VI No. 4 Soundtrack: Gorillaz - Laika Come Home Fatbloke comes charging out of the showers yelling about lack of hot water. He is resoundingly ignored by nearly everyone. Miiinee is talking about the delights of being the father of a young cyclist and there is a book open on how much petrol prices are going to go up with the latest hike from OPEC. Everyone is looking forward to a time of quiet roads and frustrated drivers when they can ride around feeling smug. The lovely and heroic Mrs Pike thinks that it might not be enough, however, to prevent her extraordinarily lazy neighbour driving to the post box to post her letters. There has been a gradual loss of membership from the much-valued Dystechnics Anonymous, with the latest brain to drain being Pedaldog, now much chuffed with his new handlebars. Terry has almost managed to raise a thousand good English pounds for the Guide Dogs for the Blind Association. Redrum has been looking for some shorter shorts to extend her tan. It's a minor distraction from the discussion about the flour bombing of the PM - a discussion almost political enough to be consigned to the Campaign shed. It is relatively quiet in the Cake Stop today, as EvilChuffy hasn't been around for a while. There is very little flirting going on, and, apart from a brief but snappy disagreement between Ravenbait and Yenrod, there is not much happening in the way of excitement. Andy Newbie's question about the standard greeting between cyclists has failed to rouse much interest, although Benlawrence is celebrating his first topple in clipless pedals. There isn't even any conversation related to food today. The closest thing to a food topic has been Mrs Pike's rise to fame with Foska, who produce the coveted marmite jersey. The tiny thrill produced by the possibility of having an interloper, in the guise of Steely Eyed Missile Man, whose identity Clare has spent some time trying to verify, is over. It wasn't much of a security scare. The war on terror doesn't really impact on these hallowed walls. Everyone here has much more important things to think about, such as on which side to overtake a line of stationary traffic. Somersetbiker has been celebrating his birthday, however, which was nice for everyone. It is a sultry, warm, heavy day, when the pollen-laden air seems thick like syrup and even the wind is warm, so that any ride is like pedalling into a giant hairdryer. It is the season of skin sticky with sweat, catching flies like a carnivorous plant; of cut grass from verges littering the roads; of high-flying swallows twittering lyrically; of taking two bottles of water for the ride home. It is, as Ravenbait would say with an enormous grin, Pinarello weather, and everyone is fairly upbeat, especially those like Nutty, Kitzy and Ukiboy who don't like driving and go out of their way to avoid it. This is perfect weather for sailing past those stuck in their cages, and enjoying the fresh air and sunshine. Of them all, only Newbie is not looking so chipper. He is sitting at the bar nursing a pint, wondering whom he can ask to accompany him on what he considers to be an entirely too dangerous and fooolhardy endeavour. TimC is offering moral support but has already declined to accompany him. He claims to be allergic to danger, but does offer some cursing. Newbie thinks despondently that the worst curse he could muster is probably a used moist wipe. "Cheer up, old boy!" grins FatBloke, rubbing his damp hair with a towel. "Could be worse. He might have lopped your head off there and then!" "Would you come with me, FatBloke?" Newbie asks hopefully. "Well, let me see. No longer wanted by the Marine Mammals Defence Fund, and Rigby seems to be doing just fine by himself these days. Can't be any worse than being turned into a zombie, can it?" "Oh, thank you," Newbie says, feeling utterly relieved for the first time in days. The quick pootle around the grounds of the house where Amanda Donohoe used to keep her strap-on dildo had not reassured him at all. Newbie buys Fatbloke a pint and they sit for a while in companionable contemplation. There will be time enough for some combat training. Macleach has offered schooling in the use of the offensive chainset, and Flying Monkey and Aeroflash may well have a few hours free to go over some of the basic points of the Weirding Way later. "Look!" Ravenbait exclaims from the far side of the bar. She has just come in from blasting past a fellow commuter on her Pinarello and is somewhat over-excited. "The tadpoles are growing legs at last!" The High Priestess of the Temple is bending over a large fish tank, filled with greenish-looking water and a couple of rocks. Inside there are small, black commas of proto-frogs wiggling about merrily, and some rather large ones that have an appearance more like giant evil sperm. Their blank, froggy faces gape mindlessly back into the faces of those who peer through the glass. Sure enough, some of the bigger ones are starting to show the first signs of tiny feet, just where their tails meet their round bodies. TooMuchCake peers at them apprehensively. "You know, some of them are rather on the large side," he says. "I don't know about you, but I've never seen a tadpole with a head the same size as a bar end plug. I have to say, some of them are downright creepy." "Nonsense!" scoffs Ravenbait. "They're cute and froggy and lovely." One of the larger tadpoles favours TooMuchCake with what he considers to be a baleful stare. It seems to say "Your name is marked, my son." "Kathy, have you been conducting experiments on Ravenbait's tadpoles?" "No!" Mrs Pike responds, a little too quickly. Her face flushes somewhat pink. "I did find some in a jar outside, though. It looked like they had been taken from a pond and then the rotter who kidnapped them from Mr and Mrs Frog just abandoned them in the road. I couldn't just leave them there! I thought they might enjoy the company of Ravenbait's tadpoles." "Well they seem to be getting on together just fine," Ravenbait declares with evident satisfaction, sprinkling some goldfish food into the water. A couple of the ordinary tadpoles nibble at one of the softened flakes left over from the previous day's feeding. One of the large tadpoles hoovers up an entire sprinkling of the fresh stuff without stopping to chew. "'Tis not normal!" Cuddy Duck observes. "In my professional opinion, as an experienced aquatic fowl, those are no ordinary tadpoles." "I don't care!" Ravenbait says crossly, pouting and folding her arms in a stubborn manner. "They're mine now. I've been feeding them. I'm going to train them to be ninja attack tadpoles! Especially that one." She pulls a smug face. "His name is Boris." Flying Monkey shakes his head sadly. He is thinking that the Priestess has had too much sugary coffee today and he'd better tell Clare not to let her have any more. She'll only regret it later if she does. "Oi!" AndyGates exclaims. "That was my idea!" "Yeah, but they're my tadpoles," Ravenbait responds. "I'm going to train them to come to heel, and then I'll have ninja attack frogs when they grow up." Brock leans over and nudges Macleach. "Does she have these funny turns very often?" "Too much sugar, too much caffeine, too much sun, too much Pinarello," Macleach tells him. "We all have our little foibles. Best not to argue with her, really. She'll probably go have a snooze out back soon and she'll be fine when she wakes up." "Either that or she'll have an entire flock of superbly trained ninja attack tadpoles," Redshift notes. "I think she took the loss of 'One Man and His Frog' rather hard." "What?!" exclaims Rigby. "Did someone say 'rather hard'? Can I be of any assistance? I'm quite good at rather hard things!" With that the conversation in the Cake Stop returns to its usual smutty self. Newbie actually finds himself feeling quite comforted. It all seems so normal. It is easy for him to forget that in barely two and a half months he has an appointment with Lance on the beach at Dunwich, even when some of the conversations are focused on travel arrangements. In the tank, five of the large tadpoles congregate in a small group by the glass and stare out at TooMuchCake, who is chatting to Nutty, as if memorising his face. They stay there for a long time, gaze fixed, until eventually their attention seems to register on some instinct of their target and he jerks round to look in their direction. But the group has dispersed and is busy doing tadpole things. TooMuchCake shakes himself and tells himself to stop being silly. No cause to go around being nervous of tadpoles. They are only little black blobs with tails. They don't even have legs yet. Tadpoles are perfectly harmless. Cuddy Duck sidles up to him and nods towards the tank. "'Tis not normal, I tell you," he says. They watch for a while, but the tadpoles are apparently just very large tadpoles. Probably some sort of exotic species. Perfectly harmless. Nothing to worry about. Sam http://www.ravenfamily.org "What? No! We can't stop here! This is bat country!" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: groucho Replied on: 20/05/2004 14:31:31 Message: Oh Yummy cake and duck eating tadpoles Great stuff Sam! Pointing that 12 gauge of truth, straight at your chest. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: FatBloke Replied on: 20/05/2004 15:00:50 Message: Just as Newbie is aware that I cannot be there at his beheading the showdown between him and Armstrong. I have duties that have to be performed abroad, but I will accompany him on his quest and aid him until the morning of the start of the Dun Run. After that he is on his own!!! Don't give Terry ALL of your spare cash, sponsor me on the British Legion Pedal 2 Paris 2004: http://www.bmycharity.com/v2/bntanner -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: microphonie Replied on: 20/05/2004 15:16:28 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Tadpoles are perfectly harmless. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ...unless they turn into cane toads or arrow frogs. No licking the nice amphibians now cakestoppers Bart: Dad, are you licking toads? Homer: I'm not not licking toads. Could be useful weapon to slip into EvilLances bidons though... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Klaatu Birada Nikto -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TooMuchCake Replied on: 20/05/2004 15:35:39 Message: Hmmm.... I don't like the look of those tadpoles. Time to go on the offensive. I'm going to genetically modify some cress. If I turn it into very small triffids it should provide some protection. Sam... Please can I make some genetically modified micro-triffids? They live, we sleep... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 20/05/2004 15:37:47 Message: If you must, you must . -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TooMuchCake Replied on: 20/05/2004 15:55:50 Message: Oh I must.... Right, someone pass me the Arabidopsis seed and the dodgy bacteria... Hi Ho, Hi Ho.... They live, we sleep... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: somersetbiker Replied on: 20/05/2004 16:26:06 Message: All this preoccupation with tadpoles and everyone overlooked the big box of home-made american- style choc-chip muffins I brought in as my birthday treat for everyone. There's gratitude for you. AND the Butcombe's off; AND someone forgot to take the dead rat out of the Scrumpy (originally put in the improve the body, but should be taken out after 28 days) so now it's gone all hairy and clogs the teeth on the way down. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 20/05/2004 16:34:10 Message: I dunno. There's just no pleasing some people! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Flying_Monkey Replied on: 20/05/2004 16:57:19 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by somersetbiker AND someone forgot to take the dead rat out of the Scrumpy (originally put in the improve the body, -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I always find it makes the rat wrinkly and a bit tough for my liking... ----- Typical me, I started something... ----- -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: newbie Replied on: 20/05/2004 17:01:52 Message: Better not be discussing this when Chuffy gets back, it'll be BBQ'd hoggies next -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: somersetbiker Replied on: 20/05/2004 17:03:09 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Flying_Monkey quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by somersetbiker AND someone forgot to take the dead rat out of the Scrumpy (originally put in the improve the body, -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I always find it makes the rat wrinkly and a bit tough for my liking... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You're not supposed to eat the rat, silly. At least, not raw. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: hairyhippy Replied on: 20/05/2004 18:14:19 Message: Gossebumpily good Sam. Newbie I have returned frome the Moose wedding in Wales and will stand as your second on the day (if you still need me, once Fatters has done a bunk.) I shall start rubbing mystical dung fertilizer into me beard and painting meself blue in preparation. What do you mean, its not the menhir you ordered? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Flying_Monkey Replied on: 20/05/2004 18:16:51 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by somersetbiker quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Flying_Monkey quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by somersetbiker AND someone forgot to take the dead rat out of the Scrumpy (originally put in the improve the body, -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I always find it makes the rat wrinkly and a bit tough for my liking... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You're not supposed to eat the rat, silly. At least, not raw. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- What you mean it's the foul-smelling liquid you''re suuposed to consume? I'll stick to the rat! ----- Typical me, I started something... ----- -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TimC Replied on: 20/05/2004 18:20:20 Message: Never mind the frogs, scrumpy, triffids, and moose weddings. I wanna know where Amanda Donohoe's strap-on dildo fits into this (so to speak...)! Now, back to the maidens. Hellloooo, young ladies. My, you're looking delectable tonight. Frog sandwich? Don't mind if I do..... What day is it? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: somersetbiker Replied on: 20/05/2004 19:14:42 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Flying_Monkey quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by somersetbiker quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Flying_Monkey quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by somersetbiker AND someone forgot to take the dead rat out of the Scrumpy (originally put in the improve the body, -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I always find it makes the rat wrinkly and a bit tough for my liking... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You're not supposed to eat the rat, silly. At least, not raw. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- What you mean it's the foul-smelling liquid you''re suuposed to consume? I'll stick to the rat! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 'course you're supposed to drink it! What else? (Answers own question)... oh yes... and it cleans paint brushes a real treat. But don't clean the loo with it (except after drinking it). Last time someone did that it blew manhole covers off a mile away. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 21/05/2004 09:13:14 Message: TimC: have you not seen "Lair of the White Worm"? You ought to ask Newbie about Amanda's strap- on. I'll bet he knows all about it. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: newbie Replied on: 21/05/2004 09:19:24 Message: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: microphonie Replied on: 21/05/2004 09:32:50 Message: Lair of the White Worm: http://www.geocities.com/lairof/frame.htm photos in 'classic scenes' bit -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Klaatu Birada Nikto -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Brock Replied on: 22/05/2004 00:40:52 Message: Just thought this should be elevated to the front page, because everyone should be enthraled by the ongoing saga. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TimC Replied on: 22/05/2004 13:02:14 Message: Sam, I hadn't - and looking at the website (thanks microphonie) I'm not sure I should! What day is it? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Fixed Wheelnut Replied on: 22/05/2004 17:55:06 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- There is a titanium MSR mug on a thin chain attached to the fountain, there for quenching the thirst of weary travellers. quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- That should be a strong bit of 1/8th chain Sam, some pesky blighter might nick that bit of Titanium Great stuff woman keep it going. Don't stop pedalling http://westkentctc.org.uk/index.html http://www.audax.uk.net/index2.htm -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 03/06/2004 16:39:39 Message: Of course it's a strong bit of chain. Anyway. Anyone trying to steal it would have to deal with the Temple Guards - and they all look like Gunner! Next installment coming soon. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Brock Replied on: 03/06/2004 16:47:58 Message: Hoorah -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: FatBloke Replied on: 03/06/2004 17:40:23 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Ravenbait Of course it's a strong bit of chain. Anyway. Anyone trying to steal it would have to deal with the Temple Guards - and they all look like Gunner! Next installment coming soon. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Bugger!!! When I saw this thread reappear I thought there was another installment!!! Still it reminds me that I must get on with Newbie's training, if he ain't gonna be decapitated come the Dun Run. Don't give Terry ALL of your spare cash, sponsor me on the British Legion Pedal 2 Paris 2004: http://www.bmycharity.com/v2/bntanner -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: hairyhippy Replied on: 03/06/2004 17:40:58 Message: I be not affeared. I 'ave dunged me beard and sharpened me shovel What do you mean, its not the menhir you ordered? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 03/06/2004 17:45:17 Message: Currently 500 words through next installment. Had some indecision over the soundtrack. Better clue me in on your training methods, FB. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Pingu Replied on: 03/06/2004 17:52:23 Message: I imagine FB's training methods involve lashings of Stella Tortoise Scottish Traditional Beer Festival, 17th to 19th June, Assembly Rooms, Edinburgh Some cycling photos "You may ask yourself, 'Where does that highway go to?'" TV quiz drag nymphs blew JFK cox -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: cuddy duck Replied on: 03/06/2004 17:54:21 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Bugger!!! When I saw this thread reappear I thought there was another installment!!! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Me too. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: FatBloke Replied on: 03/06/2004 18:17:20 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Ravenbait Currently 500 words through next installment. Had some indecision over the soundtrack. Better clue me in on your training methods, FB. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Weapons training will involve, amongst other things, chain ring throwing (campy ones of course against LA), squirting of noxious substances from water bottles, use of empty Stella bottles, arm wrestling, running down a mounted opponent, etc. etc. There are many more devious devices and techniques in my armoury, but I shall not divulge them on the forum, just in case "you know who" is reading. And no, I don't mean bloody Voldemort!!!!!!! And how about Elgar's Nimrod for a soundtrack ( I think you owe me one of those)? On second thoughts, that might be better saved for the finale. Don't give Terry ALL of your spare cash, sponsor me on the British Legion Pedal 2 Paris 2004: http://www.bmycharity.com/v2/bntanner -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 03/06/2004 18:22:52 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop Vol VI No. 5 Soundtrack: Death In Vegas - The Contino Sessions Newbie is reviewing the options on shaving his legs. FatBloke sits to one side, knowing that this is all just a matter of stalling. It is now June. There are a bare two months, slightly less, to go before the fateful appointment with the God of Le Tour, Lance Armstrong, on the beach at Dunwich. FatBloke will not be there, and has made that quite plain. There are certain lines he will not cross, and, as he is off to holiday just before the final showdown, that is one of them. Still, Fatters muses to himself, as he tries half-heartedly to start an argument by declaring he likes SUVs in the presence of the Aquatic Fowl on Bikes Society, things could be worse. At least the jersey is moving along, although the pace has dropped off since that first, rather extraordinary bank holiday weekend, and Rigby had enjoyed himself on his turn, even if he had ended up over the edge of the cliff at Beachy Head. No harm done. Just a shame that Laurence is refusing to do his leg naked in support of the World Naked Cycle Ride. He insists that it is bad enough people will get to see his knees. Davidmam's webcam of the tits in his apple tree is attracting a fair amount of attention. This is presumably to make up for the fact that when the lovely Mrs Pike was boasting about the perkiness of her own tits, she was referring to the ones nesting in her letterbox and not her remarkable bosoms. Other than the usual inane rambling that goes on in the Cake Stop, the only other topic of interest is the gloating going on over the expected fuel protests. Pikachu is offering to help the cause by filling up his tank at the first opportunity, despite not needing to, so that they fuel runs out more quickly. Just like last time. Then there is the rumour that Spen666 is planning an escape from the Isle of Man, although he has only mentioned it once, and that was in Campaign, and may well be hoping that no one noticed. "Is it not time that you were on your way?" Gunner asks Newbie, who is currently puzzling over the way The Archaeologist's latest find translates his name into "Drunken Roadie". How did it know? "Come on man!" Gunner barks. "There are birds out there who are just waiting for a manly man to come along and show them a good time, what! Book 'em Danno!" "I don't even know where I should start," Newbie says, a queer feeling in his stomach, as if someone is pulling a drawstring to make it smaller. "Well, that's obvious," says the Priestess, not unkindly. "You start in the bike park outside." The inhabitants of the Cake Stop trickle outside into the bike park, where all the noble steeds begin fidgeting and pulling at their D-locks, eager to be off. Gunner's Giant OCR Team Replica purrs at the site of her Adonis-like master, and Kathy's beautiful new steed Mab manages to look aloof and uncaring at the same time as declaring herself more than a match for any other bike there. Neither Luther nor The Cardinal are anywhere to be seen, for the pixie that is EvilChuffy has not been around recently. Fingal is also absent, for a change, as Ravenbait has been taking Peregrine out for some exercise and to socialise him with other bikes. He is still young and exciteable. But only Newbie and FatBloke's steeds are released at this time. The rest try not to look too disappointed. "Where do we go?" Newbie asks FatBloke. FatBloke shrugs. "I don't know," he says. "It's your quest, Newbie. You have to tell me. I'm just along for the ride." Newbie scans the array of expectant faces lined up outside the Cake Stop Bar and Grill. There are a few faces missing; friends of old, some of whom occasionally send messages via continuing regulars, like Wafflycat, some of whom have simply vanished. Withers has gone now, off to his new world of science-fiction and alien nymphomaniacs with green nipples. But there are a reassuring number who have stuck it out through many a battle, like Hairhippy, with his magic wheelbarrow and sharpened shovel; and Yenrod, who is as unintelligible as ever. Turning, Newbie glances up at the sky, unsure of where he should go next. Give his bike its head and let the front wheel guide the way? That doesn't seem appropriate somehow. He is uncomfortably aware of FatBloke, waiting patiently for the word as to where they should go, and the people behind him who are waiting out in the cooling dimness of gathering dusk to see him off. A feeling of impotence and frustration boils up inside him and is as quickly spent. A small bird bursts from a bush by the side of the bike park. Almost too small to see, it flaps furiously in an energetic flutter of wings straight across the bike park, skimming closely over the cycles waiting for their masters and mistresses, and darts down an overgrown metalled track that neither Newbie nor FatBloke had ever seen before. "It's a wren!" Pingu declares. The Priestess smiles, a glint in her eye as if she alone knows the answer to a riddle that no one else has even been asked. "There you are, Newbie," she says. "You're on a mythic quest. What can be more mythic than hunting a wren? I'd say that's a clue, dear heart." Newbie stares at the road with its covering of bushes. A slight gust of a breeze riffles across the bike park, catching the May blossom. A shower of petals falls onto the ground at the start of the road, as if the blackthorn is telling him that they will make the passage easy. "Come on then, FatBloke," he says. "I think we'd best get started. Hope your batteries are fully charged." "May the roads be smooth and wind be at your back," Ravenbait says as they mount their steeds. "And remember, no matter how many miles you travel, the Cake Stop is never far away." "Take care!" calls Kathy, clutching Mr Pike's hand to comfort her in her worry for her two departing friends. FatBloke and Newbie quickly vanish into the gloom. The rest of the Cake Stoppers traipse back inside where they console themselves with cake and thoughts about the fuel protests. So many people are away on adventures at the moment. Gonzo's relay ride is still going, and then there is Kitzy and Bomber Castle's New Forest jaunt coming up….well. It is the season for it. "So why exactly were you up so late last night?" Need Another Gear asks Peliroja by way of distracting himself from worrying about his two friends. Hairhippy leans over to hear the response, thinking saucy thoughts. Peliroja is too shattered to tell them much, but hinted at deeds that were, indeed, very saucy, then declared herself off to sort out her bearings and then go to bed. "Ooooh, look!" Ravenbait cries. "I've got three little froggies!" TooMuchCake, Pingu and Cuddy Duck sidle over and peer into the tank. Three of the five precocious tadpoles have now turned into frogs, and the other two have sprouted legs and are just waiting for their tails to go. "They're remarkably cute for slimy amphibians," says Pingu. TooMuchCake and Cuddy Duck exchange glances. There is a malevolent intelligence in the implacable, cold gaze of those three baby frogs. "Tis not normal," says the Duck. "I think they have Ravenbait hypnotised or something." Indeed, the Priestess seems to be lavishing an over-abundance of affection on the creatures especially for someone not normally known for being the maternal type. "I think we need to have a little chat with Kathy about where she found them exactly," TooMuchCake says. "Agreed," says Cuddy Duck, and they go to find the lovely and heroic Mrs Pike and quiz her about the origins of the rather peculiar amphibians. As they turn and make their way across the Cake Stop, the three frogs follow them with cold, yellow eyes, throats quivering, and if anyone had been watching them, they would have given the unmistakable impression that they were moving, and thinking, as one. Sam http://www.ravenfamily.org "What? No! We can't stop here! This is bat country!" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 03/06/2004 18:27:08 Message: I do take requests for soundtracks too, but retain the right to choose where to use them. FB, your request was dly noted, but you have to agree it would have been somewhat wasted on this episode. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Pingu Replied on: 03/06/2004 18:34:40 Message: Ominous I thought wrens were more Gunner's forte Scottish Traditional Beer Festival, 17th to 19th June, Assembly Rooms, Edinburgh Some cycling photos "You may ask yourself, 'Where does that highway go to?'" TV quiz drag nymphs blew JFK cox -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: hairyhippy Replied on: 03/06/2004 20:13:04 Message: was supposed to be a shovel not a trowel What do you mean, its not the menhir you ordered? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: hairyhippy Replied on: 03/06/2004 20:40:13 Message: Thanks Sam What do you mean, its not the menhir you ordered? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: newbie Replied on: 04/06/2004 00:14:58 Message: Cool installment, glad I've left before the slimy creepy things develop legs sounds like it will take the combined skills of Cakestop to poke 'em with a stick and see what they are about. Good to see that HH & FB are both spoiling for a fight, not since SUVs came over from campaign have we seen such enthusiasm Hopefully the next will see the triumphant return of Lord Chuffy to make everything alright again, perhaps whilst I have a nice quiet rest under a tree to the tunes of Barclay James Harvest we won't be gone long, will we? I've only taken one spare vest -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TimC Replied on: 04/06/2004 01:10:32 Message: Nice little bit of schmoozing of the principle players there, Sam; lulling them into a false sense of security before the tadpoles mutate into sabre-toothed hydra-headed mega-frogs!!! And fancy sending Newbie out with only one spare vest. Tsk! There'll be letters from his mummmy for this. What day is it? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Kathy Pike Replied on: 04/06/2004 09:31:42 Message: If people are hunting wrens, shouldn't one of the soundtracks be "Cutty Wren"? "Oh where are you going, said Milder to Moulder..." Sneakily tries to insert folk music into the Chronicles. Edit: I've just found the traditional lyrics here, and a nicely updated set here. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Pingu Replied on: 04/06/2004 09:56:28 Message: So now we have to poke our fingers in our ears & sing nasally And pretend we like accordians Scottish Traditional Beer Festival, 17th to 19th June, Assembly Rooms, Edinburgh Some cycling photos "You may ask yourself, 'Where does that highway go to?'" TV quiz drag nymphs blew JFK cox -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Mrs Pingu Replied on: 04/06/2004 15:03:00 Message: oooooh, you've got a speaking part dear! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Help Help I'm being oppressed! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: hairyhippy Replied on: 04/06/2004 17:35:17 Message: Kathy, I've only heard that track on Chumbawumbas "English Rebel songs." Where do you know it from? What do you mean, its not the menhir you ordered? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Pingu Replied on: 04/06/2004 17:40:21 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Mrs Pingu oooooh, you've got a speaking part dear! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I told you not to tell anyone about that Scottish Traditional Beer Festival, 17th to 19th June, Assembly Rooms, Edinburgh Some cycling photos "You may ask yourself, 'Where does that highway go to?'" TV quiz drag nymphs blew JFK cox -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Flying_Monkey Replied on: 04/06/2004 17:40:38 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by hairyhippy Kathy, I've only heard that track on Chumbawumbas "English Rebel songs." Where do you know it from? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- It's actually a really fine folk album that... ----- lost somewhere between thought and expression ----- -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: hairyhippy Replied on: 04/06/2004 17:48:08 Message: I have unfortunately lost my copy. What do you mean, its not the menhir you ordered? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 08/06/2004 15:09:25 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop Vol VI No. 6 Soundtrack: Jefferson Airplane - Surrealistic Pillow High up in her eyrie, kept company by vast panoramic views across Dartmoor, the narrator mainlines coffee and sniffles into a box of tissues, dredging the threads of story out of the fevered mass of activity that is her over-worked mind..... The lovely Mrs Pike is filling in a form requesting to become an academic lab rat for the rest of her days. She has to justify the existence of the underground laboratory she had built in the basement somehow, even if that does mean moving down towards that part of the country where Ravenbait is to be found when not in the Cake Stop. Outside the sun is shining, apparently completely unimpressed by the passage of the tiny dot that was the planet Venus that morning, although she is now modestly covering her glory in a fine gauze of Cirrostratus. Cuddy Duck, TooMuchCake and Pingu approach the table where Kathy is sitting, her beautiful face now screwed up in a knot of concentration, fiddling with her pen and with her tongue sticking out. "Kathy," TooMuchCake begins, sliding into a seat beside her. "Hmmmmm?" she does not yet look up from her endeavours. "Those tadpoles you found," he continues. "Can you tell us any more about them?" Kathy realises that she is not going to get any peace to fill in her form at this time, and puts her pen down with a sigh. "They were outside," she says. "In a jar. They looked lonely." "Where outside?" Pingu asks her. "And what was the jar like?" Cuddy Duck adds. "Was it an old jam jar with a string tied round the top?" "Outside outside," Kathy says impatiently, waving her arm in a vague gesture. "You mean, in the real world?" TooMuchCake asks. "Not quite, no. But not in the Cake Stop. And no, it wasn't a jam jar. It was a very odd thing." Kathy frowns. "It was all strange and twisty and it didn't seem to have any lid or way to get in. I thought the poor things would suffocate or starve to death so I smashed it to let them out and then I had to find somewhere to put them. Ravenbait's tank was the obvious place." TooMuchCake suddenly turns pale. "The jar. Did it look like this?" He shows her a picture of a piece of glassware that is indeed strange and twisty. "That's the one!" Kathy cries, delighted. "Gosh. You can buy these as Christmas presents, look. Whoever would have thought it?" "I know who," murmurs TooMuchCake to himself. "Thanks, Kathy. You've been most helpful." TooMuchCake grabs Pingu and Cuddy Duck by the elbows in a manner that would most definitely have met with Gunner's disapproval had they been ladies, and pulls them away from the table. As an afterthought he goes back and retrieves the picture of the Klein bottle he had shown Kathy. Kathy frowns after them, puzzled, but then returns to filling in her form with a resigned sigh. Boys will be boys, after all. The three of them find Macleach discussing the Brentwood Crits with Terry and Fluffymonster. "Can we borrow you for a while, Macleach?" Pingu asks. Before he can reply, Macleach finds himself whisked away and out of the Cake Stop bar and grill. "Where are we going?" he asks as TooMuchCake ushers him up a ladder into a tunnel that he had always thought was some sort of unnecessarily huge storm sewer overflow that Ravenbait had installed in one of her mad moments, to provide drainage for the replica Hanging Gardens of Babylon she had decided to build to grow her hash plants, on the hilltop behind the Cake Stop. TooMuchCake doesn't respond, but the four of them hurry along the dimly lit, damp-smelling tunnel with its colonies of luminous fungus until they come to another ladder. TooMuchCake goes up first, tapping out a secret combination on the keypad set into a control panel to one side of the hatch. Only then can he spin the wheel that releases the mechanism, and the hatch lifts upwards with a hiss. "Welcome to my secret laboratory," he says, as the others climb up after him. His face is lit by the eerie glow of dim light filtered through various different coloured flasks and vials of liquid, some of which are bubbling. An acrid mist coats the floor in a layer of fog about a foot thick. "Wow!" says Macleach. "That's what happened to Claptrap! How did you get Fenella to part with him?" "She didn't," Cuddy Duck says. "One of her toadies got into some serious debt with Tony the Shark and it was either sell the book on the black market to pay him off or be the victim of an unfortunate gill- mashing incident involving an agricultural shredder." He holds up his hands. "Don't ask me how I know. If I told you I would have to kill you." "So. What are we doing here?" Macleach asks, wandering around and poking things. "Don't touch anything!" TooMuchCake tells him. "Look, I know food colouring when I see it," Pingu says, swirling a flask half-filled with green liquid. "You've got O'Reilly as well!" Macleach exclaims, finding the Irish telescope looking out of one of the tiny windows. "It's a roight shame, so it is," says the telescope. "I always wanted to be going back to Dun Laoghoire pier, so I did." "They came as a job lot," TooMuchCake says. "Now never mind that. Look." He pulls out an A4 lever arch file, one of the really annoying ones with four hoops in the middle instead of two, so that anyone who wants to use them for anything else has to buy a special, really expensive hole-punch or just make untidy extra holes with the nearest pointy thing, and flicks through the glossy, full-colour sheets contained therein. There, in the middle, is a picture of a grinning, square-chinned, blue-eyed blonde in a white lab coat, standing in a laboratory not entirely dissimilar to either TooMuchCake's or Kathy's, and on the bench in front of him is a set of six klein bottles, each containing what appear to be five small black dots surrounded by a mass of white jelly. There is some text underneath the picture. quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- New! From our Extreme Subterranean Range! The ultimate in ergonomic design and convenience, these utility frogs are reinforced against punishing abuse and loaded with storage. We know how much our customers value our attention to detail, and so we have prepared these one-shot frog-bottles so that you, the customer, can choose when and where to unleash their explosive power. No leaks, no danger of escape: these klein bottles are specially made by our own lab glass factory in Venice, Italy using a secret formula derived by the master himself, Leonardo Da Vinci, and developed by our own scientists. The bottles come with five eggs suspended in a carefully prepared hydroponic solution that will provide for all the needs of your developing frogs up until the use-by date stamped indelibly on the base. Full instructions are provided with each batch. Please note: we regret we can accept no liability for loss, injury or general catastrophe resulting from keeping any frog-bottle unused past the use-by date. For safe disposal, please call our premium rate number given at the back of this catalogue. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Pingu, Cuddy Duck and Macleach stare at TooMuchCake. "Utility frogs?" Macleach asks, almost scoffing. "What rubbish is this?" TooMuchCake closes the folder and lets his friends see the front. quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Acme Criminal Masterpiece Enterprises. For all your world domination needs. A subsidiary of ABD Incorporated -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- "You have got to be kidding!" Pingu exclaims. "It's a spoof, surely." "That's what I thought when I ordered the catalogue," TooMuchCake tells him grimly. "Just out of curiosity I ordered one of the less expensive items in their catalogue." He points towards a bench, on which there is a cat basket. Inside the basket a black cat lies sleeping. The other three shrug. So what? It's a cat. TooMuchCake goes over to the cat and picks it up, brings it over and sets it on the floor in front of them. It's not just a cat. This cat has wings. And opposable thumbs. It yawns, stretching, arching its back and fluttering the bizarre, somewhat furry wings that emerge from its shoulders. It has very sharp teeth. "I call him Biggles," says TooMuchCake. "Here, Biggles." He puts down a sealed packet of cat treats. Biggles looks at it disdainfully, with a look that says "Oh, here we go. Party tricks again." He picks it up and rips open the packet then puts a pawful of the fishy sticks in his mouth and flies up to the top of one of the shelves to eat them in peace. "I don't know what 'utility frogs' do, exactly, but I think we should be worried. Very worried," TooMuchCake continues. The four men look at each other for a few long moments, each trying to settle his thoughts into some semblance of order. "You know," says Macleach, "I think you might be right. Let's go find Gunner." Sam http://www.ravenfamily.org "What? No! We can't stop here! This is bat country!" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TooMuchCake Replied on: 08/06/2004 15:22:58 Message: Cool!! A secret lab! With bubbling liquids and fog! I've always wanted one! I could cry Thanks Sam The wheels are still in motion and the job's gettin' done! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 08/06/2004 15:24:20 Message: You did ask! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TooMuchCake Replied on: 08/06/2004 15:27:55 Message: All this... And a new bike... And a bonus KitKat... Sometimes life seems almost too good The wheels are still in motion and the job's gettin' done! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Kathy Pike Replied on: 08/06/2004 15:28:28 Message: TMC's gotta nice lab, an' I haven't HH - I have a confession:I like folk music The version of Cutty Wren I had in mind was from Steeleye Span's "Time", but I've heard other versions too. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I'm sorry, I didn't recognise you with your clothes on. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 08/06/2004 15:29:50 Message: Kathy! You do too have a nice lab. Yours is in the basement. You haven't ever told me what you want in your lab, just that you wanted one. So you've got one. In the basement. It has been mentioned at least twice now. Stop complaining. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Kathy Pike Replied on: 08/06/2004 15:34:09 Message: Ooops, my bad, so I do. Ummm, in my lab I would like a teleport to the outside, so I can go and do field studies to the caribbean/Cornwall/Africa/wherever there are interesting animals without the inconvenience of travel sickness. I'd also like a large cage full of mice (not for research purposes - just to talk to), lots of interesting dead animals, and an outside which is hypoallergenic, so I don't sneeze. Please. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I'm sorry, I didn't recognise you with your clothes on. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TimC Replied on: 08/06/2004 15:37:17 Message: What about a bar? Any self-respecting super-lab's just got to have a bar. With a special bar person (insert male/female fantasy figure here as appropriate to your sexual predilections) to dramatically whisk up those to-die-for cocktails at exactly the right moment.... What day is it? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 08/06/2004 15:40:43 Message: No. We have the bar already. We're not duplicating the bar. I can't manage a hypoallergenic outside either, but I'll see what I can do about the mice and the dead animals and the transport module, although I have to say that the latter is going to open us up to the risk of all sorts of unfortunate transporter accidents. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TooMuchCake Replied on: 08/06/2004 15:46:53 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by TimC What about a bar? Any self-respecting super-lab's just got to have a bar. With a special bar person (insert male/female fantasy figure here as appropriate to your sexual predilections) to dramatically whisk up those to-die-for cocktails at exactly the right moment.... What day is it? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- OK, world domination? creation of hideous genetic mutants? Fair enough. But eating and drinking in the lab?!??!? Just what kind of perverted sicko are you? The wheels are still in motion and the job's gettin' done! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: peliroja Replied on: 08/06/2004 16:03:42 Message: Ooh, I got a mention! Thanks Sam. Though my bearings never got seeeed to. I was splatted. Vicky -mismo sol para tod@s- -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: fluffymonster Replied on: 08/06/2004 16:18:11 Message: I got a mention! Yes! I'm here with my confession, got nothing to hide no more... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Macleach Replied on: 08/06/2004 16:20:03 Message: Once we have found Gunner we had better take an inventory of his armoury too. Utility frogs? I don't think I like the sound of this. I expect they have a loud and terrifying "ribbit" too. "Wo ist mein Rad?" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ridgerider Replied on: 08/06/2004 16:28:29 Message: Who do I have to sleep with to get a mention? I've been through the first page of the members list and nothing...... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Pingu Replied on: 08/06/2004 17:21:21 Message: Nice lab TMC That was food colouring wasn't it Scottish Traditional Beer Festival, 17th to 19th June, Assembly Rooms, Edinburgh Some cycling photos "You may ask yourself, 'Where does that highway go to?'" TV quiz drag nymphs blew JFK cox -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: hairyhippy Replied on: 08/06/2004 17:59:38 Message: Nothing to be ashamed of Kathy. What do you mean, its not the menhir you ordered? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Mrs Pingu Replied on: 08/06/2004 18:52:41 Message: Saaaaaaaaammmmmmm...... Can we have a seal please? pretty, pretty please? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Help Help I'm being oppressed! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: hairyhippy Replied on: 08/06/2004 18:54:38 Message: What, exactly would you do with a seal? I suppose a mutant talking seal with an orange mohican could outwit these most curious frogs. What do you mean, its not the menhir you ordered? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Mrs Pingu Replied on: 08/06/2004 19:01:27 Message: I dunno. Just sit an look at how luvverly it is. Wave flippers. Swim with it. Blow bubbles at it................ (goes all dreamy Galapagos mode) anyway, that's my tea ready.................... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Help Help I'm being oppressed! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TooMuchCake Replied on: 09/06/2004 09:04:03 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Pingu Nice lab TMC That was food colouring wasn't it Scottish Traditional Beer Festival, 17th to 19th June, Assembly Rooms, Edinburgh Some cycling photos [/b]"You may ask yourself, 'Where does that highway go to?'" TV quiz drag nymphs blew JFK cox -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- [enigmatic]You carry on believing that if it makes you feel comfortable...[/enigmatic] The wheels are still in motion and the job's gettin' done! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Whichway Replied on: 09/06/2004 11:52:52 Message: I think the ‘utility frogs’ you have found might be a distant cousin of the Paraguayan security frogs that are used to guard castle Whichway from the hoard a of BMW and 4x4 drivers that inhabit central Hampshire Unfortunately ours have developed a taste for postmen so we don’t get much mail now. If they are related then it might be a good idea to keep Chuffy at a safe distance just in case. Stag, string and a good crossed thread -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 09/06/2004 11:58:30 Message: Thanks for the advice, Whichway. I'll bear it in mind. Mrs P: Of course we can have a seal. But you'll have to join the Intrepid Sorority (Ladies' Night at the League is Thursdays). -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ridgerider Replied on: 09/06/2004 12:46:10 Message: RB Please....... I actually live near in the desolate lighthouse on the cliff edge where they filmed Life and Loves of a She Devil! It was a bloody battle, but it is mine now. Does this provide me with the necessary 'baggage'? (Try something small and black, oops wrong thread). -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 09/06/2004 12:52:49 Message: You don't need 'baggage' (whatever that is). You just need to ask. No, Cookiemonster, I haven't forgotten. Then it's just a quetion of working you in. Oo-er. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Mrs Pingu Replied on: 09/06/2004 12:57:43 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Ravenbait Mrs P: Of course we can have a seal. But you'll have to join the Intrepid Sorority (Ladies' Night at the League is Thursdays). -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I'll join anything if I can have a seal! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Help Help I'm being oppressed! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Evilchuffy Replied on: 09/06/2004 13:10:28 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ridgerider-->RB Please....... I actually live near in the desolate lighthouse on the cliff edge where they filmed Life and Loves of a She Devil! It was a bloody battle, but it is mine now. Does this provide me with the necessary 'baggage'? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- No, it just means that you are a jammy git and I hate you. I've always wanted to live inna lighthouse. ------------------------ Wanta Giant Anteater! ------------------------ -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ridgerider Replied on: 09/06/2004 13:25:38 Message: EC When I said in a lighthouse.... ...but I can hear the horn on a foggy day. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Evilchuffy Replied on: 09/06/2004 13:27:43 Message: Oh ok then, I'll spare you my ire and wrath. Just don't go converting any old abandoned churches any time soon... ------------------------ Wanta Giant Anteater! ------------------------ -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ridgerider Replied on: 09/06/2004 13:31:51 Message: ...nor will I be taking any ferry trips to the other side with you!! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Evilchuffy Replied on: 09/06/2004 13:51:28 Message: Oh go on, it's dead cheap, only two pennies... ------------------------ Wanta Giant Anteater! ------------------------ -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Kathy Pike Replied on: 09/06/2004 14:21:18 Message: Have you got that dog on the far side under control yet? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I'm sorry, I didn't recognise you with your clothes on. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 09/06/2004 14:27:10 Message: Cerberus? I think Garm et him -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Fixed Wheelnut Replied on: 09/06/2004 22:52:47 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Ridgerider RB Please....... I actually live near in the desolate lighthouse on the cliff edge where they filmed Life and Loves of a She Devil! It was a bloody battle, but it is mine now. Does this provide me with the necessary 'baggage'? (Try something small and black, oops wrong thread). -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I bet thats some bloody security light you have got then Ridgy Thats not the one they moved a few years back is it? Sam (quote- Cerberus? I think Garm et him- quote ) a friend of mine has an Alsation called Cerberus Any jobs for a fixed gear in this series? Don't stop pedalling http://westkentctc.org.uk/index.html http://www.audax.uk.net/index2.htm -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 01/07/2004 16:00:06 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop Vol VI No. 7 Soundtrack: John Renbourn - John Renbourn Newbie nearly falls off as FatBloke reaches across and smacks him one on the shoulder. "Pinch, punch, first day of the month. Happy July!" he says cheerily. Newbie tucks his head down further, squashing his chin into his chest in an attempt to get rid of any gaps around his neck where rain could get in. It doesn't feel much like summer today. There is a howling gale, the rain is practically horizontal, and the black clouds overhead are rumbling ominously with the threat of an electrical storm. He has no idea where they are. They followed the wren, or perhaps a succession of wrens: it is quite possible there is more than one as the little blighter keeps hopping into bushes and hedges and hopping out again, never seeming to tire. Either it really is a mythological wren or there is a conspiracy of them. With the weather pelting him viciously, Newbie is inclined to believe that it is the latter, and this is all some awful joke at his expense. RB and the others are probably all sitting back at the Cake Stop in front of the fire, boozing outrageously and laughing at his expense. Maybe FatBloke is in on it and is only along to see the expression on his face. Ahead of them, the wren bounces chirpily off a swaying birch tree and then vanishes into some hawthorn. It doesn't come out again. Newbie drifts to a stop, brake blocks slipping on rims made greasy by road-grime slicked with rainwater. "Now what?" he asks crossly, feeling a trickle of cold penetrate the imperfect seal he tried to make between his Gore-Tex and his neck. The wren had always come out before, and it can't be the rain that has caused it to disappear. It has been leading them through the rain for hours. Ahead the road vanishes quickly into the slashing grey downpour, everything 6 feet or so beyond his front wheel a blur of precipitation interrupted by forced blinking as raindrop falls from his eyebrows into his eyes. He is cold, he is miserable, and he really, really wants to go home. "FatBloke, can you remember the way back?" They have made many turns and twists on the road, with the wren leading them through one junction after another, sometimes apparently leading them back on themselves, sometimes taking them along long stretches of empty, barren tarmac. They haven't seen a single other traveller since they left. The sandwiches are all but gone. "You are joking, right?" FatBloke retorts, scoffing. "I didn't bring a Garmin, you know. I haven't even got a map." "No. Of course not." Newbie sighs, staring down at his wheel so that the rain falls off his face without getting into his eyes. "Where is this Goddess when you need Her?" Rain trickles into his ear and he asks the question again, this time to himself. As it seeps into his shorts and his legs begin to feel the chill, he adds: "Where?" As he speaks this last the rain begins to ease. The abrupt cease of the white noise crashing of the rain into puddles on the asphalt comes as a shock to his ears. Within moments the clouds have parted and a strong beam of sunlight pierces directly through the grey masses and strikes both cyclists with its full warmth. For a moment they simply bask in the sudden glow, and then they remove their rapidly steaming shades and take a look around at the scenery that had previously been hidden from them by the rain. Ahead of them, to their left, marked by the bright, gaudy arc of a rainbow, sits a magnificent building. Fountains gush forth on manicured lawns, and white marble columns support balconies and roof- gardens. There is an immense sun-room; a geometric sculpture of glass containing full-grown trees, nestling amongst the turrets and balustrades. FatBloke and Newbie glance at one another and ride slowly up the road until they come to the end of a drive marked out in bright orange packed sand. A huge board is standing to the side of the road, framed in wrought iron. "Grand Sahara Resort and Health Spa" The wren appears, hopping forwards two or three steps on the orange driveway, then looking back over its shoulder as if to make sure they were following. At the vast steps leading up to the enormous foyer, the wren vanishes again. FatBloke and Newbie, not sure of what else to do, lift their bikes and mount the steps, cleats clacking on the polished marble. Still dripping from the downpour, they wheel their noble steeds through the glass doors, which open silently at their approach. Inside the building is even more fantastic. There is another fountain; a great sculpture of athletic bodies in gymnastic poses. The floor is again marble, inlaid with what appear to be slices of gigantic agate geodes and fossils from the Jurassic. The pillars would stand up in terms of artistic achievement to the Apprentice Pillar in Rosslyn Chapel, and there is soft and welcoming seating everywhere, upholstered in a pale coloured fabric that looks clean and simple, peaceful and relaxing. There is a strange scent in the air that they cannot identify but which has hints of jasmine and is incredibly soothing. The atmosphere of the place radiates peace and welcome. FatBloke and Newbie stand there in the middle of the floor, staring around, absolutely gob-smacked. As they stand there, dripping, there is the sound of a door somewhere out of sight and then two young beautiful ladies wearing clean white uniforms with their long, blonde hair fastened into tidy buns appear. Each has a large, soft, fluffy bathsheet and immediately wraps it around one of the cyclists. The bathsheets have been warmed. "Hello, I'm Portia," one of them says in lilting, musical tones. "Normally we would ask people to pre- book but the Baron is operating an open house this weekend and you are more than welcome." "We can take care of your bicycles," says the other, whose name, it turns out, is Anushka. "We have a fully qualified Cytech mechanic on the staff. Please leave them here and we will have them serviced for you." "Now, let us show you to your accommodation. The Baron would be delighted if you would join him for dinner. We will have the menu sent to your rooms so that you can choose what you would like to eat." By this time they are already being led towards the elevators. "There is a fully stocked mini-bar in each room, which we would be pleased if you would enjoy sensibly and in moderation," Portia told them. The lift arrives immediately and they are whisked upstairs with a slight ping. Down a plush, thickly carpeted corridor they are shown to a suite of two adjoining rooms, each with en suite facilities and a giant television with all the sports channels that showed cycle racing available for free. On inspection the bathrooms are discovered to be equipped with whirlpool baths and there is some Black Sheep and Summer Lightning chilling in a bucket by the side of each. "Dinner is served at 7pm," says Anushka. "If you require anything, anything at all," she winks, a subtle gesture that would have been easy to miss, but evident enough all the same, "just ring for room service." Newbie and FatBloke can hardly believe their luck. They run straight into their respective bathrooms, leaving the door adjoining their two rooms wide open, and turn on the taps. Soon the suite is filled with clouds of billowing steam from the gallons of hot water and the grumbling growl of the whirpool jets as FatBloke and Newbie wallow in contented luxury. Sam http://www.ravenfamily.org "What? No! We can't stop here! This is bat country!" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TooMuchCake Replied on: 01/07/2004 16:07:22 Message: Hmmm... Got a bad feeling about this. I bet All Is Not What It Seems... ___________________________________________________________________________ I need revolution 'cos I can't afford the price of cake... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Brock Replied on: 01/07/2004 16:27:41 Message: Ye gads, this all seems far too good to last. Nice touch having Black Sheep chilled next to the bath. I saw John Renbourn supporting Robben Ford in Newcastle last year. Makes a great sound track. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Pingu Replied on: 01/07/2004 16:44:51 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- On inspection the bathrooms are discovered to be equipped with whirlpool baths and there is some Black Sheep and Summer Lightning chilling in a bucket by the side of each. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This Grand Sahara is a bad place Skye trip pictures "You may ask yourself, 'Where does that highway go to?'" TV quiz drag nymphs blew JFK cox -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: groucho Replied on: 01/07/2004 16:57:43 Message: It's not anywhere near Alpe D'Huez per chance with cold Stella & BBq. Pointing that 12 gauge of truth, straight at your chest. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TimC Replied on: 01/07/2004 20:00:26 Message: Am I still enjoying a dalliance with the Vestal Virgins, or can I make a quick trip to the Baron's gaff and have a little fun with Anushka Or is it all in my head ??! Must cut down on the red wine, methinks What day is it? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Fixed Wheelnut Replied on: 02/07/2004 00:48:59 Message: All those jets of water and bubbles in the bath and FB hadn't even switched on the whirlpool, powered by a mix of Stella and energy bars Baz Don't stop pedalling http://westkentctc.org.uk/index.html http://www.audax.uk.net/index2.htm -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 20/07/2004 14:44:22 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop Vol VI No. 8 Soundtrack: Groove Armada - Goodbye Country (Hello Nightclub) Macleach, TooMuchCake, Cuddy Duck and Pingu return to the Cake Stop in search of Gunner, leaving Biggles contentedly chewing on his cat treat on top of one of the high shelves. The place is in chaos. Clare had announced that she had woken up that morning and hated everything, not helped by Yenrod having one of his funny turns after getting his paws on an entire tub of sherbet UFOs and accusing her of refusing to serve him ketchup with his marmalade on toast. She is now engaged in re-arranging all the furniture. The Great Forum Ride board has been moved, and she is re-categorising the For Sale and Wanted section and rearranging the cakes and the chairs and tables because, she says, it is all getting in the way and might even constitute a health and safety hazard because it is delaying people getting in and out. Most of the regulars are looking rather bewildered as they try to keep track of what is being moved where, and some people have to pick themselves up and move to other tables to finish a conversation as Clare has their table taken away for cleaning and polishing of ring-marks. Ravenbait and Kathy are poring over a catalogue of posters for their walls, making lewd comments to one another and trying to decide whether any of the products on offer are worth the merciless teasing they would receive from their other halves should they choose to purchase any of them. "Has anyone seen Gunner?" Macleach asks. "He was here a minute ago," Ravenbait tells him. "Why? Anything I can do for you?" "Well, yes, actually," Macleach grins lasciviously, keen to distract the High Priestess so she does not find out that they have less than friendly plans for her beloved ninja-attack tadpoles,"if you're offering." "Would you wear the outfit?" she purrs seductively. Macleach swallows, nervously and frantically trying to remember whether that batch of Irn Bru - the special stuff in the glass bottles - had turned up from the Barr's factory yet. "If you asked me nicely enough," Macleach responds. "But you will have to wait. It's at the dry cleaners." "The side of the bottle does say: 'If spilt, this product may stain,' " Ravenbait muses with a sly smile. "Gunner went out muttering something about 'the Spen discrepancy'. I think he might have gone to look under the bridge. That's where they hide, trolls." "I'd best go look there then. Good day to you, ladies." Macleach beckons to Cuddy Duck. Pingu has disappeared, but a quick search reveals him showing off pictures of Mrs Pingu riding the Lecht with a proud glow on his face. TooMuchCake has managed, in those few seconds of the Irn Bru champion sparring with the High Priestess, to get embroiled in a conversation with Jaded, FatBat and a few others over the pros and cons of which sock to put on first. "While you were engaging in verbal foreplay with Ms Bait of Raven," Cuddy Duck sniffs. "I have uncovered a most important and pertinent fact. It appears that we may have a Spen spawn." "What?!" Macleach wonders if Beverick has spotted this yet and groans inwardly at the thought of the havoc that could be wrought if there are, in fact, two of them. "A recent arrival by the suspiciously inauspicious name of Ethelfrith has made an appearance. His outlook and demeanour one could say were somewhat reminiscent, nay evocative of our familiar and recently strangely absent Manx were-troll." Macleach groans. Utility frog tadpoles and now more than one Spen? Could they not have a set of Chronicles that were not quite so action-packed for once? A bit of peace and quiet would be nice. With all the Etappers away, and Chuffy working on a new job with little time to pop in, the Cake Stop had seemed almost restful and harmonious of late. "That's all we need," Macleach opines with a heavy sigh. "It seems that Gunner is on the trail as well. RB said that he went out to the bridge muttering something about Spen. Maybe we can attack two birds with one stick and sort out this Spen business while we track down Gunner to talk about the Tee Ay Dee Pee Oh Ell Ee Esses." "Cunning," the Duck said, with only the barest trace of sarcasm. " Shall we have at them, then?" Rolling his eyes and leaving TooMuchCake and Pingu to their socks and photos, Macleach heads out of the door, Cuddy Duck hot on his tail. * * * FatBloke and Newbie had been collected after their baths by Anushka and Portia and escorted down to the great dining hall. There an enormous table was set with all sorts of heavenly delights, including vast mounds of fluffy, creamy, cheesey mashed potato; gallons of the finest gravy; ham roasted in honey and demerera sugar; crispy, light, toad in the hole made with spicy, coarse ground sausages; beef-roast sliced to reveal the pink flush of its perfectly cooked interior; plates of aromatic rice steamed to perfection; a range of pasta dishes with various sauces; and great bowls of fresh, crisp, salads and vegetables. On a sideboard along one wall was a visual buffet of the desserts that were still to come. Around the table sat some of the most beautiful women they had ever seen, and some of the fittest looking men. As FatBloke and Newbie approach the table, where two spaces have been left for them, the man at the head of the table stands up. He has a distinguished face, with grey hair and a tan that is more than obviously from spending time outdoors rather than time in a sunbed. "Good evening, gentlemen."My name is Baron Bercilak, the....proprietor of this establishment. I trust everything has been to your satisfaction so far." Newbie and FatBloke nod and smile with effusive thanks. "May I present my wife, the Lady Bercilak?" the Baron continues. At the far end of the table, sitting so that her back had been towards them when they came in, is the most heavenly creature that either FatBloke or Newbie have ever set eyes upon. She has an ethereal, fragile beauty, as if she could be all things to all people, and she smiles at them with a strange, melting combination of shy vulnerability and intimated desire. "Hello," she says. FatBloke and Newbie's hearts skip a beat. "Please, gentlemen. Take a seat. You must be hungry after your journey," the Baron tells them. The Cake Stoppers find themselves sitting opposite each other at the table. The Baron invites everyone to make a start and help themselves and then there ensues a polite but rather urgent free-for-all, as if the young men and women have not eaten in days and are not sure when they will be fed again. Only the Lady Bercilak appears to be without the athlete's appetite: the young woman picks disinterestedly at a steamed chicken breast and a mixed salad while sipping a glass of chilled Sancerre. When the first feeding frenzy has died down the Baron gazes levelly at Newbie and FatBloke over the rim of his glass, in which is swirling wine of a deep blood red, so dark it is almost black. "You seek Lance Armstrong's secret." he says to Newbie. Newbie finds himself unaccountably unsurprised that the man should know. "Yes." Newbie replies. "Well I know where you will find it." He takes a sip from his glass, the wine leaving a deep stain where it touches his lips. "In this place there are three days left until you must go to your meeting with the God of Le Tour. As you know, he is currently battling with Basso in the Pyrenees. You will need to be fit to face him. Stay here. Allow me to supervise your training so that when you meet him, you will know what to do." "All right," Newbie says slowly. FatBloke does not look so happy. "I can't stay here until then! I have to pack! I'm going to France!" he wails. "That is unfortunate," the Baron said smoothly, not looking in the least bit disappointed. "But I am sure it cannot be helped. I will lend you a team of domestiques and they will escort you back to your home in the morning." Newbie swallows nervously, suddenly not too keen on the idea of being left to the Baron's personal coaching. Something about the young men and women around the table reminds him of the Stepford Wives, although they are undeniably at their peaks of physical performance. He is not really sure how training will help him not get his head chopped off anyway. "And how about a slight wager?" the Baron suggests, smiling. The young men and women have stood up and are clearing away the main course, bringing over dishes of chocolate gateaux, trifle, cheesecakes, pavlovas and more. "What sort of wager?" Newbie inquires, trying not to show any of the fear that has suddenly started squirming in his gut, making dessert less attractive than it had been when he first sat down. "Oh, only a little one," the Baron assures him. "Each evening we go for a ride, to work up an appetite before dinner. We all have healthy appetites here, as you can see. If you finish before me, I shall bring your morning coffee to you. If you finish after me, then you can bring me mine. It will ensure that we are both up and ready for our day of training." "That seems harmless enough," FatBloke says. "Don't you worry, Newbie. You'll have him!" he grins round a mouthful of chocolate and cherry cake, cream dribbling down his chin. "All right then," Newbie agrees, regretting it as soon as the words are out of his mouth. "Excellent," their host says with hearty enthusiasm. "Now, let us finish our meal. Tomorrow we train and you will need all your strength." Somehow, Newbie thought to himself, I don't like the sound of that. Sam http://www.ravenfamily.org "What? No! We can't stop here! This is bat country!" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Bagonabike Replied on: 20/07/2004 14:57:57 Message: How spooky, about half an hour ago was making tea and thinking "hmmm, wonder when Sam will have another Chronicle instalment ready"..... Are ye psychic, yonge lady?? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Mrs Pingu Replied on: 20/07/2004 15:08:31 Message: Yay! I exist in the real world -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Help Help I'm being oppressed! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 20/07/2004 15:09:03 Message: Only slightly . Not enough to satisfy James Randi. More psychic than Uri Geller, though . -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: microphonie Replied on: 20/07/2004 15:20:41 Message: WHAT? Cuddy Duck making a comment "with only the barest trace of sarcasm"? Sheer fantasy! Y'know, I think these chronicles are made up! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- This is our mission: to be the daleks of god -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TooMuchCake Replied on: 20/07/2004 15:27:10 Message: It's a documentary I tell you!! ___________________________________________________________________________ I just dropped in to see what condition my condition was in... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: kitzy Replied on: 20/07/2004 15:36:19 Message: YAY! Chronicles! I was thinking about them too today Baggy "Spen Spawn" had me laughing out loud -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: janism Replied on: 20/07/2004 15:52:19 Message: As I am a newcomer to C+ I got to read all the Chronicles in one go . Now I have to wait like everbody else for the next installment . -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Pingu Replied on: 20/07/2004 16:37:48 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Mrs Pingu Yay! I exist in the real world -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Ravenbait Only slightly . Not enough to satisfy James Randi. More psychic than Uri Geller, though . -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ah, timing, the secret of comedy Mrs Pingu does the Lecht "You may ask yourself, 'Where does that highway go to?'" "The point is that I am now a perfectly safe penguin, and my colleague here is rapidly running out of limbs!" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 21/07/2004 08:58:45 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by janism As I am a newcomer to C+ I got to read all the Chronicles in one go . Now I have to wait like everbody else for the next installment . -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- All of them, Janism? That must have taken ages . -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Gary Askwith Replied on: 21/07/2004 09:17:03 Message: Hey Sam what are the qualifications for appearing in a episode of the Chronicles? If its post count I'm doomed (I believe in quality not quantity!) but I have been around since the very start-and even before in the old C+ version..... So how about including 'Gaz' the Brunette-obsessed, smoker-scolding,, Blair-hating cynic in there sometime! Gaz -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 21/07/2004 09:28:12 Message: Only qualification required is that you show an interest in being there . Be patient, though - I need to find a good way of including people. Simply dropping names in is a bit like Clement Freud reciting lists in "Just A Minute": it works, but it's cheating. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: janism Replied on: 21/07/2004 10:24:05 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- All of them, Janism? That must have taken ages Mmmm, yes. Lots of skiving going on at work! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Kathy Pike Replied on: 21/07/2004 13:48:44 Message: Why am I worried that the toad-in-the-hole is somehow related to the Killer Tadpoles? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- And could someone please bring me something deep fat fried and smothered in chocolate. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Kathy Pike Replied on: 21/07/2004 13:54:54 Message: Eh? There was an epidose there! I know there was. And now it's wanished! It's a conspiracy, I tell you. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- And could someone please bring me something deep fat fried and smothered in chocolate. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 21/07/2004 13:58:57 Message: I just moved part B and appended it to part A so they're both together in the same place, Kathy. That's all. Keeps it tidy. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 23/07/2004 17:17:44 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop Vol VI No. 9 Soundtrack: Massive Attack - Mezzanine Macleach and Cuddy Duck find Gunner prowling around the bridge by the stream down at the edge of the Seven Acre Wood. He has got hold of the lurcher that Chuffy had left behind, and which had eventually been adopted by Gary Askwith and Cookiemonster, who were teaching it tricks. Apparently Gunner had hoped that one of the tricks they had taught it was troll-sniffing, but the lurcher seems far more interested in bounding after the flopsy, cutesy bunny rabbits with the floppy ears that are gambolling around in the Temple Meadow on the other side of the stream. "RUDDY NORAH!" Gunner bellows. "Useless creature! I shall have to use the money Mrs Gunner said I could have for some troll-detecting kit at this rate." "What's the deal, Gunner?" Macleach asks. "That Spen beast. He vanished," Gunner says, poking at a lump of mud with a pointed stick and frowning at it, as if it might leap up and bite him at any moment. "Then there was this Ethelfrith chap who came in and by golly he looked just the same. Spoke the same way and everything. Right! I thought. Not having the likes of that around my barracks, no sir! One is bad enough. They'll put the birds off. Thought I'd track him down in his natural habitat. I'm sure I saw spoor just over there. Damnable dog is proving utterly useless, though." "Well he is trained for badger lamping, not troll hunting," Macleach observes kindly. "He's a lurcher, not a German pointer." "What would I want a Kraut sticking his finger out for?" Gunner asks, bewildered. "Aha! Look! There he is!" A Gollum-like creature is sneaking up the far bank from underneath the bridge, blanket weed and sediment from the bottom of the stream streaking his clammy, grey, hairless skin in muddy browns and greens. Realising he has been seen, he pulls an angry face, baring lips to reveal toothless gums. "Is it a full moon tonight?" the Duck ponders. "He seems to be suffering under a great deal of trollishness at the moment. He's not usually that bad. He normally has some teeth." Gunner leaps across the stream with a mighty bound, landing with both feet on the far bank and grabbing Spen by the scruff of the neck. "Come here, my boy!" he barks. "We're going to get to the bottom of this once and for all. I want to see you and this Ethelfrith in the same room at the same time. I need to know if you are putting it about a bit, or if we have a potential infestation. God's teeth, man! I don't even know if Ethelfrith is a boy or a girl!" Cuddy Duck and Macleach exchange a look and a sigh. "Gunner," Macleach says. "We have a bigger problem than that at the moment. Put Spen down. He's harmless enough." "What if they breed? What if we get more of the blighters? Can you see the birds coming round to check out my Adonis-like figure with a herd of trolls running around?" "Gunner, I'm sure that you are so attractive that no number of Spens and spawns would possibly put any sane woman off the idea of getting close enough to give you a ruddy good checking-out," Macleach tells him, trying hard not to sound exasperated. "Now put the troll back under the bridge and leave him to munch his chickweed. Come on, man. The Cake Stop needs you!" Gunner gives Spen a little shake, frowning at him as if considering giving him a much more violent shake to make sure that he doesn't have any baby trolls hidden in his pocketses or something, then drops him surprisingly gently into the water over the side of the bridge. There is a splash and a gurgle and some outraged muttering that quickly stops as the creature disappears under the water. "Right then! So what's the problem, eh? Someone need some advice on how to pull birds? It's all in the elbow you know!" Macleach and Cuddy Duck steer Gunner back towards the Cake Stop, explaining carefully about Ravenbait's tadpoles and what they had seen in TooMuchCake's catalogue from Acme. "Ruddy Norah!" Gunner exclaims. "And RB is training these things to be ninja attack tadpoles you say? What's got into the woman?! Has she no sense? Birds! Can't be left alone for a minute!" Suddenly there is a screech and Fixed Wheelnut skids to a stop on the path in front of them. "Come quick!" he says, balancing in a practised track-stand. No one has ever seen him off his bike. There is a long-standing rumour that he doesn't have cleats, that his feet have grown into the pedals, or the pedals are part of his feet. No one has ever looked closely enough to find out. He doesn't stay still for long enough. "The frogs are out. Kathy took Raven out to show her something on the Pirates of the Caribbean DVD and while they were out the frogs escaped. They have eaten all the other tadpoles! They've got Lord Fluff and microphonie and groucho and Rigby hypnotised and are starting on everyone else! The sound is terrible!" "Right," says Macleach grimly, reaching for his trusty chainset and popping the tab on his emergency tin of Irn Bru. It did indeed say, on the side: 'If spilt this product may stain'. The orange liquid courses through his veins like quicksilver, bringing fire to his eyes, a glow to his skin, muscles swelling and rippling as the sacred power works its magic. "This has gone far enough now." They hurry back to the Cake Stop. The bike racks are peppered with empty spaces left by Cake Stoppers who have managed to escape the deadly hypnotic gaze of the frogs. They can hear the resonating hum coming from inside. McBain and Redrum stumble out of the door, shaking their heads, closely followed by Brock and Janism. "Who's left in there?" Cuddy Duck asks them. They stare at him blearily, apparently not sure what is going on. The door opens again and Clare staggers out, face flushed, one hand pressed against her forehead. "Kathy, Kitzy, Charlotte," she says. "Microphonie, Rigby, Lord Fluff, Combat Wombat. Somersetbiker. TLDMNCL. Pbiggs. AndyGates. The Archaeologist. Chewa. Nutty. Pingu and Mrs Pingu, I think. Maybe Mr and Mrs Dolcetto and Mr and Mrs Cyclemonkey. It's not good, Gunner." With absolute chivalry, Gunner catches Clare's limp form as her lovely legs collapse underneath her, and supports her in his arms. She clings to his manly arm gratefully. "What about Ravenbait?" Macleach asks. "She's still there too. But she's not hypnotised like the others," Clare replies faintly. "I should think not!" Gunner exclaims. "Quite a rum sort of a bird, that one." "So what is she doing?" Cuddy Duck asks, looking up towards the door as the Pingus manage to make an exit and stumble towards them. "Laughing and clapping," Clare says. "She can't realise where the frogs come from," Macleach says, shocked. "If she knew they came from the ABD..." "Then she'd probably still be delighted," Cuddy Duck says dryly. "We're going to have to put a ban on her drinking so much coffee, you know. This is just the sort of thing that is bound to happen." "So what do we do?" "Well, I imagine you'll be protected by the Irn Bru, "the Duck replies. "I don't think even hypnofrogs could displace the primary thought processes in Gunner's head. I honestly can't see him ever thinking about anything other than the fairer sex for any length of time. If they do affect him, we just need to wait six seconds and his brain will reset. I'm the one with the problem." "Then you stay out here and look after Clare and the others," Macleach tells him. "Gunner and I will go in and try to recapture the frogs." The mighty Irn Bru Warrior hefts his chainset in one hand, and then he and the Adonis-like Gunner Rogers step forward into the breach, shoulder to shoulder, to face the power of the five mutant frogs. Sam http://www.ravenfamily.org "What? No! We can't stop here! This is bat country!" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: kitzy Replied on: 23/07/2004 17:31:00 Message: RUDDY NORAH!!!! very very good -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Pingu Replied on: 23/07/2004 17:45:27 Message: Good grief - Mrs Pingu correctly identified the sound as Hypnotoad from Futurama BTW, if like me you couldn't get the link to work, then go here & click on the Hypnotoad link Mrs Pingu does the Lecht "You may ask yourself, 'Where does that highway go to?'" "The point is that I am now a perfectly safe penguin, and my colleague here is rapidly running out of limbs!" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Brock Replied on: 23/07/2004 21:22:26 Message: I like the way this episode is going, you really are very clever Sam. Can't wait to read the many magical properties that Irn Bru possesses. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Evilchuffy Replied on: 23/07/2004 22:39:38 Message: When did I have a lurcher?! All my dogs can walk quite properly thangkewverymuch INDEED! And where's Baggy, hmmmmmm? badger lamping. Hah! ------------------------ Wanta Giant Anteater! ------------------------ -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Fixed Wheelnut Replied on: 23/07/2004 23:07:52 Message: Cheers luvfor a minute I was begining to think I hadn't made it out of the last series My feet are at one wiv the pedals eh, yeah even as the track stand goes tits up and I do that stag beetle on its back impression with the bike on top Don't stop pedalling http://westkentctc.org.uk/index.html http://www.audax.uk.net/index2.htm -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TooMuchCake Replied on: 24/07/2004 11:33:45 Message: Fantastic, Sam! Can't wait for the next one ___________________________________________________________________________ I just dropped in to see what condition my condition was in... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Aeroflash Replied on: 24/07/2004 16:39:54 Message: Ah, great stuff. Can't wait for the showdown on the slopes of Mont Ventoux, the tension of the threat to the cakestop back home, the ethereal hospitality of the 'baron' and its consequences... Fortunately, Robin Williams doesn't seem to have turned up as the Tour God's SUV driving, wisecracking sidekick yet. I have nothing further to wish for, unless it's that the word 'widdershins' is used in the next episode. Oh, and perhaps I get a new bike crafted by Hephaestus to replace the sadly soon to be departed Nimrod ;-) (Though I'd be tempted to cut short the description of the artwork on the downtube!) Looks like the Tour God will be at full strength for your encounter, Newbie, it's going to be a tough fight alright. Matt 'The Problem with being a druid is, you've got to be prepared to make sacrifices' -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: alchemy Replied on: 26/07/2004 05:50:07 Message: This is brilliant Sam. Is it the efforts of someone who'd like to be a full-time writer but needs to pay the bills, or just an enjoyable pursuit for you. I'll go back and read the others if I can find the time. Now, how do us Antipodeans get in on the action _______________________________ Who put this bloody hill in the way !!! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 26/07/2004 10:41:12 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by alchemy This is brilliant Sam. Is it the efforts of someone who'd like to be a full-time writer but needs to pay the bills, or just an enjoyable pursuit for you. I'll go back and read the others if I can find the time. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Yes, I'd like to write full time. Still, if the Government ditches all those civil servants I might not have any choice but to give it a go because I may be out of a job! It's difficult to find the time to write for publication when there are bills to pay, requiring working for a living. You can find a full list of previous episodes at http://www.ravenfamily.org/sam/bike quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Now, how do us Antipodeans get in on the action -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Same way as everyone else. You say that you want in. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: alchemy Replied on: 26/07/2004 23:10:07 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Now, how do us Antipodeans get in on the action -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Same way as everyone else. You say that you want in. OK - I'm in if there's room please. I'll even try to think up something to contribute. Now...... I'm off to find the rest of those other Chronicles _______________________________ Who put this bloody hill in the way !!! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: charlotte Replied on: 27/07/2004 10:28:03 Message: Trapped as I am by the deadly gaze of the hypnotic frogs, I'm awfully concerned about whether we're all going to get out of this one fit and well enough to escort poor old Newbie to Dunwich... Maybe we need some kind of "frogspawnofspen" type-thing going on here and the Cake Stoppers can deal with two birds with one stone Can I ask for anything from Trout Mask Replica in the next soundtrack or is C.B. pushing it a bit? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: alexjrice Replied on: 27/07/2004 11:44:03 Message: Yes, frogspawn of spen would explain the wierd goings-on in the forum : spen dissapears having laid a load of spenspawn... and then a load of little spenlets hatch a few days later, along with the hypnotic frogs! --- Windcheetah #525 Catrike Speed #124, and luvin it... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 28/07/2004 15:29:45 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop Vol VI No. 10 Soundtrack: Gustav Holst - The Planet Suite Welcome! Welcome and well met to this next most thrilling instalment of our exciting and educational adventure periodical for boys and girls of all ages. When last we left FatBloke and Newbie they had been wined and dined at the table of the Baron and Lady Bercilak, and the Baron himself had declared his willingness to supervise Newbie's training for his duel with the God of Le Tour over the three days left in this portion of A-Time before his appointment with Fate. FatBloke, despite having willingly agreed to act as Newbie's Squire on this Quest, is about to depart with a chain gang of beautiful young women domestiques to take him back home as he must depart for France before the dread time. The Baron has set a challenge to the brave Newbie. Is all as it seems? Is Newbie right to feel a querulous trembling in the pit of his stomach, or is he merely giving in to Fear? Read on..... Newbie is woken up the next morning by his radio alarm and spends ten minutes drinking the coffee waiting by the bedside cabinet with the small card attached saying "This one's for free. There won't be another like it." He hears the expected news: Lance has taken the final time trial and has become the winner of the Tour for the 6th time. FatBloke is already up and rather sheepishly getting his kit on for the trip home. "I'm sorry, mate," he says. "But I told you that I wouldn't be able to stay with you all the way." "Oh, well. Thanks for coming anyway." Newbie rubs his hands through his hair, trying not to show how nervous he is feeling. He finds that a clean set of cycling gear has been laid out for him on the chair by the end of his bed. It appears to be a set of 2004 Team T-Mobile kit, and that really doesn't make Newbie feel any better. Ullrich came fourth in the end, after all, and Klõden didn't beat Lance either. FatBloke sees the disconsolate expression on his friend's face, though, and squeezes his shoulder. "You will be fine," he assures him. "Do you really think that RB would let you go off on some quest if all that was going to happen was you getting your head chopped off at the end of it?" "Why not? She said herself it was my choice." "Of course she wouldn't!" FatBloke exclaims. "She would have chopped it off herself there and then and saved us all this bother." That manages to raise a smile from the unhappy Newbie. FatBloke grins. "There, you see, that's better." There is a knock at the door and Portia and Anushka appear. Portia is dressed in a tight yellow and black outfit from the Trashycat catalogue. Anushka is dressed in the plain white uniform she had been wearing the previous day. "Are you ready, big boy?" Portia asks him. "There are seven girls downstairs waiting for you." FatBloke grins more widely, and whatever guilt he was feeling at abandoning Newbie is quickly forgotten at the sight of his escort. "The Baron is waiting for you too, Newbie," Anushka says. "In the dining hall. You just have time for breakfast before your programme starts for the day." "Aren't you eating?" Newbie asks FatBloke. "Already have," FB replies. "You were snoozing." They walk downstairs with Anushka and Portia. Sure enough, there are seven more young women, all of them dressed in the same yellow and black kit, with matching helmets and gloves. They are lithe and limber and all smile winsomely at FatBloke. His bike is ready and waiting; clean and sparkling and looking as good as new. The young ladies wheel their matching Trek bikes outside, don Oakleys. Newbie goes with FatBloke to stand at the bottom of the steps. "Have a good ride," he says, looking up at the sky to see if it is going to rain. FatBloke mounts up, clicks his right foot into the offside clipless. The young ladies, giggling and laughing, take up station around him in a manner reminiscent of the bodyguarding performed by the USPS team. "Oh, I will," FatBloke says, admiring the firm buttocks of the young lady ahead of him, whose name is Sandra. "We'll have you back in no time, Portia says from the front of the pack. "Enjoy your day, Newbie." With that she pushes off, clipping in the nearside foot, and they ride down the reddish-orange dust of the drive leaving Newbie at the bottom of the steps. Alone. Faintly he hears a whoop of sheer joy, which he can only imagine was coming from FatBloke discovering the pleasures of racing along at high speed surrounded by a gang of beautiful women. With a sigh, he turns and climbs back up the steps, cleats clicking on marble, and makes his way to the dining hall. The Baron doesn't skimp on breakfast any more than he skimps on dinner. It is evident that most of the residents of the health farm have already eaten, but even so there is more than enough for Newbie, and he helps himself before sitting down at a small table by one of the immense windows and staring out at the immaculately landscaped gardens. There appear to be some Henry Moore sculptures out there, and what has to be a copy of the Venus de Milo. With an eerie sense of timing, the Baron appears just as Newbie is finishing his second cup of coffee of the morning. "Espresso, excellent," he says. "Caffeine helps the fat burn, as I am sure you know." They spend the day in training. First of all the Baron puts Newbie through a fitness test, including a RAMP, to find his max heart rate. Then there come mile upon mile in the saddle, until Newbie's saddle interface is feeling raw and abused. Finally the entire party undertakes the final ride of the day. Newbie realises he really, really wants to spend that extra half an hour in bed the next morning, and digs deep to beat the Baron on the final climb of the ride, a short ten percenter that the Baron was apparently not expecting him to sprint. "Well done," the Baron says. Newbie, red-faced and wheezing, cannot help but notice that the Baron seems entirely fresh and not at all out of breath, even though he had finished a matter of seconds behind him. "I shall bring you your coffee tomorrow. You have earned it." They return to the Grand Sahara, where a team of soigneurs immediately sets to work on massaging lactic acid out of weary muscles and getting them ready for another hard graft the next day. After dinner, Newbie returns to his room. He has just run a bath -- a hot one, this time, not like the cold one the soigneur had made him take when he got in -- when there is q quiet knock at the door. Wrapping a towel around his waist, Newbie opens the door to see who it is. It is the Lady Bercilak. She presses her way inside the room, wearing only a gown, tied round her waist loosely enough for Newbie to see right down between her perfect, golden breasts. She smells of orange blossom and honey. "I so rarely get to meet anyone new," she says huskily. Newbie finds himself backing away until he stumbles against the sofa and sits down heavily. She prowls across the room with the lissome grace of a big cat, sits down beside him and runs her perfectly manicured fingers across his chest. Without waiting for his reaction, she swiftly leans over and kisses him, softly, full on the mouth. Something inside Newbie tells him that this is a very, very bad idea. He scrambles off the sofa and retreats to the bathroom door, putting distance between himself and the source of temptation. The Lady Bercilak pouts. "I really, really need to have a nice, long soak," Newbie says. "And then I have to go to bed. And get plenty of sleep." He deliberately emphasises the last three words. "Oh, very well," the Lady Bercilak says with a deep, stomach-melting sigh. "But I have to say, I find such dedication and commitment terribly attractive in a man." She gazes up at him, lips slightly parted, eyelashes thick, lips moist. Newbie can feel his resolve weakening. She stands up, pulls the robe more tightly around her, and walks out of the room without another word. Newbie sighs with relief, slumping slightly against the bathroom door, then makes his way stiffly into the bathroom. After all, he had not exactly been lying about bath and bed. The next day is more of the same, and once again Newbie manages to beat the Baron and have his coffee brought to him in his room. That night the Lady Bercilak comes to him again, staying longer this time. Newbie still understands that this is a very, very bad idea, and so manages again to persuade her to leave after only one kiss. The final day of training is a different matter. The final ride of the day is a time trial, and the Baron beats Newbie by more than a minute and a half. Newbie is almost relieved to have been beaten, for it had seemed that the Baron was letting him win for some untoward purpose. But that night the Lady will not leave. She comes weeping to Newbie and tells him all about how the Baron and she no longer share the same bed, how his dedication to his training is ruining their relationship. Newbie resists temptation and her advances, but on this final night he sits with her, letting her talk, until both fall asleep on the sofa. The alarm does not wake him. He makes his way downstairs an hour later than his usual time of rousing, to find the Baron reading a newspaper in the dining hall. "I missed my coffee this morning, young Newbie, " he says sternly. Newbie starts guiltily. "I am so sorry, Baron," he says, dissembling. "I thought that as I am leaving today, you would not be expecting one and might even be having a lazy morning with the Lady of the house." Please don't let him know that I was with the Lady all night, Newbie thinks, suddenly wondering, paranoid, if the Baron can somehow read the expression on his face. "Very thoughtful, I am sure," the Baron says. "And as you are leaving today, I shall forget about it. Until the next time we meet." There is a mischievous glint in his eye. "Now," the Baron continues. "Do you wish an escort straight to Dunwich for your meeting? Or do you wish to return to your friends first? Either can be arranged." Newbie thinks of the Cake Stop, realises that he doesn't want to turn up to Dunwich and immediately have his head chopped off. If he returns to the Cake Stop first, then at least he will have the pleasure of a night ride with his friends before Lance takes that chainset and uses it to sever his neck. "I think I should like to go back to the Cake Stop," Newbie says, wishing his voice did not sound so small and frightened. "Splendid," says the Baron. "They can see how much you have improved. I shall arrange some domestiques to take you home. Do keep the kit. We don't wear T-Mobile around here." Newbie doesn't get time to ask why they would have that kit available if no one wears it. Almost before he knows it, without quite being aware of how it happened, he is back on his bike being pulled along the lane between the steep hedgerows by a pack of cyclists with thighs like pistons, heading back towards the Cake Stop. Back towards home. Sam http://www.ravenfamily.org "What? No! We can't stop here! This is bat country!" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Mrs Pingu Replied on: 28/07/2004 16:10:20 Message: wow! can't wait for the next one in the meantime will somebody please make it rain or something! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Help Help I'm being oppressed! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 28/07/2004 16:57:13 Message: Wish they would, Mrs P. This is driving me batty. Now I just have to work out how to tie everything together... -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Brock Replied on: 28/07/2004 17:42:46 Message: Just got back from a ride, checked to see what was new in the Cake Stop and lo, a new episode. Dash to the kitchen, grab a coffee, 3 double chock chip cookies and settle in for the adventure. Brilliant once again Sam, I was enjoying it so much I can't even remember eating the cookies. Newbie has such self control, I'd have succumbed on the first night. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Fixed Wheelnut Replied on: 28/07/2004 22:25:41 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Brock Newbie has such self control, I'd have succumbed on the first night. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- I'd have succumbed to soon Great stuff Sam Don't stop pedalling http://westkentctc.org.uk/index.html http://www.audax.uk.net/index2.htm -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 29/07/2004 16:13:39 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop Vol VI No. 11 Soundtrack: Bloodhound Gang - Use Your Fingers The sound is deafening; a visceral, ear-melting thrum that reaches inside and tries to liquefy everything contained within the skin, destroying individuality in a physically-felt process of disintegration. Gunner Rogers and Macleach battle their way into the room against this terrible force, seeing their friends and fellow Cake Stoppers slumped in various positions around the room. Chairs have fallen over, tables have been spilled onto their sides. There are a few glasses, still containing the last dregs of spilled beer, rocking gently on the wooden floor. Those who have succumbed to the hypnotic power have eyes as white and dead as those of a fish left to bake in the sun; they are slack-jawed, barely breathing. Grimacing, Macleach puts his head down, pushing his way forward in an act of extreme will as surely as if he were dropping his head to grunt the last few metres up Alpe D'Huez. The knuckles on the hand clenching the chainset whiten as every muscle in him tenses with the effort. Sweat beads upon his manly brow. The frogs are bigger now. Much bigger. They have gone from being cute little amphibians to being the size of Brox flatbeds, with eyes glowing emerald green. They turn, ponderously, to face the two heroes when they approach, Macleach raising the chainset high above his head, Gunner's lips moving in silent consternation. The nearest frog fixes the green stare on Macleach. Suddenly a bolt of green light fires out from its eyes, knocking the chainset out of his hand. It clatters across the room, the sound barely audible above the brain-deliquescing roar of the frogs' chorus. Macleach turns to look where it went, suddenly sees Ravenbait perched on the edge of the bar. The Rudy Project Freons are sitting on top of her head, her black eyes swirling and shifting. "You go Boris!" she calls, clapping. The Irn Bru Warrior wonders if caffeine-overload is all that is the matter with her. She seems in no mood to do anything about the frogs that have taken control of the Cake Stop. Macleach leans close to Gunner, having to shout into his ear. There is a small pause, and Macleach is horrified to see the white pall beginning to shade across Gunner's eyes. But then, as Cuddy Duck predicted, something inside his head seems to click and his eyes clear. "Start getting the others out of here!" he yells. There are far more there than Clare had been able to list. TooMuchCake is in there as well, along with Bags, NeedAnotherGear, Stedly, MingMong, Miiinee, Redrum,Withers, Arellcat, Brock and, surprisingly, even Chuffy. And those are only the ones he can immediately identify. Gunner nods. "Right lad!" he shouts, immediately going for Kitzy and Kathy, picking one up under each arm, muscles bulging. Macleach wonders vaguely if he should tell Gunner to leave the girls until last, so that there will always be female reminders to keep him safe from the hypnofrogs, but it is too late. Anyway. Gunner is still of the Old School 'women and children first' persuasion, and would probably think it terribly poor show to leave even one of them behind, old boy. Macleach picks his way through the debris, his every movement followed with predatory intent by the three frogs. His chainset lies gleaming in a pool of spilled beer on the floor. Now that is a damned waste, he thinks to himself, shaking his head sorrowfully. He picks up the chainset, wiping the crank on a bar towel that is lying crumpled on the floor where it had been dropped by one of the unfortunate cyclists, who had no doubt been using it to try to cover his head against the sound. Gunner is dragging fallen cyclists out of the Cake Stop two at a time. One of the frogs targets him again, and this time the Irn Bru Warrior deflects the green bolt of plasma- like fire using the reflective surface of the chainset. The teeth on the ring shatter the energy into fragments, sending them bouncing around the room like some sort of crazy computer game. Macleach ducks as one whizzes over his head, bounces off the mirror behind the optics and crashes into the jukebox. The jukebox shorts, fizzing, smoke rising from the glass case, and suddenly starts playing "Stuck In The Middle With You" by Stealers Wheel. Macleach prowls forwards, something nagging at the back of his mind, scanning for any obvious point of weakness on the frogs. One of the other frogs targets him, and he deflects the shot, getting it to bounce dead centre on the chainset. The bolt flies directly back towards the frog and the Irn Bru Warrior thinks that it at least might take one down with it, but the frog merely opens its mouth, shoots out its tongue and catches the green flame as if it were a fly. "Okay," he murmurs to himself. "That would have been too easy." ...I got the feeling that something ain't right I'm so scared in case I fall off my chair And I'm wondering how I'll get down the stairs... The frog closest to him launches his tongue across the space between them and the sticky pad fastens onto his leg. The frog pulls. Lurching, off balance, Macleach yells and brings the chainset down on the frog's tongue in a reflexive, defensive swipe. There is a spurt of blue blood and the frog's tongue snaps back into its mouth. They did not like that, the frogs. They shuffle together, and the glow in their eyes begins to gleam brighter. "I can't lift him!" Macleach turns. Gunner is struggling with the bulk of AndyGates, which has somehow become jammed under a table. "RUDDY NORAH!" Gunner yells, face turning pink, neck cording as he heaves with all his might. Macleach glances back to the frogs. He can smell trouble, and the magic of the Irn Bru is starting to wear thin. It is always a careful balancing act between enough of the orange goodness and too much sugar, which will send him spiralling into the form of his manic alter-ego. ...Well you started out with nothing And you're proud that you're a self made man And your friends, they all come crawlin Slap you on the back and say Please.... Please..... Something about that song... The green glow in the frogs' eyes is beginning to merge. They are combining their powers, and the sound is getting ever louder. Macleach knows he can't stand much more, but there is a glimmer of an idea forming, and he thinks he can get hold of it if only he can get out of that dreadful noise. AndyGates is the last one left. Gunner has done a sterling job, aided by some of the others outside, who have dragged the victims from him through the door without coming quite close enough to come under the influence of the frogs again. Macleach makes a decision. He's not convinced that Ravenbait is suffering from mere caffeine overload. That looks like something else. His immediate priority is to get everyone else to safety. She, at least, seems hale and hearty, even if completely psychotic, and completely psychotic is pretty much normal for her anyway. The frogs look like they are gathering themselves for something really nasty, and the surest way to stop them doing that is to get out of the way as a target. He leaps over to Gunner in a single bound, and between them they manage to drag AndyGates out from under the table, the sudden release of his bulk providing a momentum that they carry to drag him quickly out of the room. "That's the last one," Macleach pants, the last of the magical Irn Bru energy leaving him. The doors slam shut behind them. Cuddy Duck runs over and wraps a cable lock through and around the handles, locking the doors so that no one and nothing can get out. "Two days until the Dunwich Dynamo," he observes. "I think Ravenbait may miss it this year. I'm not opening the door with those frogs in there." "Oh don't worry," Macleach reassures him, finally realising what had been nagging at him about the song. "I have an idea," he says with a grin. Trying to make some sense of it all But I can see that it makes no sense at all Is it cool to go to sleep on the floor 'Cause I don't think that I can take anymore Clowns to the left of me, Jokers to the right Here I am, stuck in the middle with you... Sam http://www.ravenfamily.org "What? No! We can't stop here! This is bat country!" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 29/07/2004 18:58:32 Message: Bugger! I've just realised I only have tomorrow to get the next installment done or it won't make sense properly! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Pingu Replied on: 29/07/2004 19:23:37 Message: Bugger! I'll have to wait til Tuesday to read the next installment! Mrs Pingu does the Lecht "You may ask yourself, 'Where does that highway go to?'" "The point is that I am now a perfectly safe penguin, and my colleague here is rapidly running out of limbs!" -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Arellcat Replied on: 29/07/2004 19:33:21 Message: Looking good, can't wait for the next episode Sam! -- Windcheetah 202 -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: alchemy Replied on: 30/07/2004 05:24:23 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by Ravenbait Bugger! I've just realised I only have tomorrow to get the next installment done or it won't make sense properly! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- You can do it Sam, we know you can It's all getting rather exciting _______________________________ Who put this bloody hill in the way !!! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 30/07/2004 13:11:27 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop Vol VI No. 12 Soundtrack: Strange Cargo - Hinterland If the domestiques were expecting Newbie to push to the front for a sprint finish they are going to be sorely disappointed. He freewheels to a stop as they peel aside at the edge of the Cake Stop bike park, two lines of four turning back on themselves and reforming into a chain gang on the road back to the Grand Sahara. As the last of them crosses the boundary the bushes close over with a busy rustle of leaves and the road vanishes from sight. Newbie had not really taken any time at the front on the way back and now he is still feeling deceptively fresh and fit. However he is not prepared for the sight that awaits him. The Cake Stop bike park is relatively sparsely populated, sheffield stands sitting empty and forlorn. The doors to the Cake Stop itself are shut fast, locked with both an Abus Granit Chain and a Kryptonite New York Fahgettaboutit Chain. Half the Cake Stop seems to be suffering from some sort of malady, and cyclists litter the ground. The other half is nowhere around. Kitzy and Kathy, neither of them looking entirely one hundred per cent themselves, are tending to the fallen, as is Clare. He looks around for FatBloke, sees him nursing some bruises over by the picnic bench. Flying Monkey, Aeroflash, Shen, Hairyhippy, Macleach, Cuddy Duck and Gunner are deep in discussion, a small knot of animated conversation positioned where they can all keep an eye on the door. The Cake Stop building is strangely silent. "What happened?" Newbie asks. "Welcome back, Newbie!" Alchemy greets him. "How was the training?" "Good, thanks," Newbie replies, deciding that the incident with Lady Bercilak is probably best left not for public consumption. "So, do you think you know how to keep your head?" Strangely enough, Newbie has absolutely no idea. He ignores the question, not really wanting to think about it, and parks his bike on one of the empty sheffields. The stand makes a contented purring sound and snuggles up to his bike while Newbie threads his way across the bike park to find out what has been happening in his absence. "What's going on?" he asks Pingu. "Ravenbait's ninja attack frogs, that's what," Pingu tells him. "We've got her and her amphibious pals locked up in there. No one can go in and we're most definitely not letting any of them out. We don't think they can get through those two locks; Sold Secure and all that." "But the Dun Run's tomorrow!" Newbie exclaims, horrified. He can't possibly go to face Armstrong when the High Priestess of the Triple Goddess of Cycling is locked up in the Cake Stop with a bunch of frogs! "Aye," says Pingu. "But don't fret. Macleach has a plan." "What sort of plan?" "Not one involving a pinniped," Mrs Pingu replies crossly. "At least I haven't heard them mention one." "Never mind," Pingu tells her. "I'm sure we'll get one eventually. Maybe there'll be one waiting at the beach." They look round as they hear a piercing whistle. Aeroflash has put his fingers in his mouth and is giving forth a piping call, up towards the heavens. A number of the Cake Stoppers look upwards, as if expecting something to respond. For a few minutes there is nothing, and Newbie just catches Gunner's impatient complaint about lack of reliability and tardiness. Then, high up in the sky, a purple smudge flashes briefly, and releases what at first appears to be a pair of black bin liners, tumbling out of control from the air. The bin liners careen downwards, and a sonorous croaking becomes audible. At the last instant wings unfold into some semblance of aerodynamic behaviour and the plummet comes to an abrupt and graceful end with two ravens landing on one of the many spare sheffields. Hairyhippy approaches the birds. They eye him, mad eyes rolling. He is having to be quite careful because no one is sure if whatever has affected the Priestess will have affected her birds as well, but this is their only decent option. "Polly want a cracker?" he asks hopefully. "Are you taking the piss or wot, mate?" Thought asks him. "Last time we came there were eyeballs," Memory adds. They seem to be their normal selves. "Is everything okay?" Macleach calls from a few feet away. Other than Ravenbait, only Hairyhippy can understand the ravens when they're refusing to speak English. "Nevermore," croaks Memory, fluffing himself up. The two ravens fall about laughing. "Wotchoo want then, eh?" Thought asks, poking some feathers back into place. "We think Ravenbait isn't very well," Hairyhippy says diplomatically. "Gone off the rocker again has she?" Thought sighs, rolling his eyes. "That's the problem with genetic engineering. I mean, Tank Girl and Ellen Ripley from Alien Resurrection? Knew the Boss was pushing the envelope with that one, but would he listen?" "Would he hell," Memory adds. "Never bloody does. No point saying 'I told you so' either. Not unless you want to be surviving on Lammergeier leftovers for a month." He pulls a face, which surprises Hairyhippy as he didn't think that a beak could be that expressive. "So what's happened this time?" Thought inquires, hopping down from the sheffield stand and strolling over to where Aeroflash and the others are still waiting. Memory follows a few feet behind. "Oooh! Hello boys!" Kathy calls. Thought performs a remarkably graceful bow. "I think I'll let Macleach explain," Hairyhippy tells them. "Which is he today?" Thought peers up towards him. "Irn Bru man or Herr Fatarse?" Memory flutters upwards and takes a gander at Macleach from Macleach's eye level. "Neither. How dull." Macleach doesn't know what they are saying. It's all just croaks and hoots to him. "Just tell them what happened," Hairyhippy implores Macleach. So, with a bit of help from Cuddy Duck and Gunner, Macleach explains as much as he can about what has been going on. Once he is finished, Thought shakes his head, sucking in breath in the manner of a plumber about to say "Need a new gasket love. It'll cost you six thousand pounds and I can't get you one 'til next Thursday." "Genetic engineering, y'see," he says, as if discussing the failings of a particular combi-boiler. "You could tell from the design plans she was going to be twitchy," Memory adds, not very helpfully. "What do you want us for, anyway?" Thought asks. "If you think I'm bloody going in there while she's having one of her turns, you can think again mate." "Took me ages to grow my feathers back last time," Memory grumbles. Hairyhippy looks at Macleach, who nods. "We want to find the Hollow Man," he tells them. "That song, the one that came on the jukebox, it can't be coincidence. This is the Cake Stop." "The Hollow Man?" both ravens chorus, beaks gaping wide in astonishment. "He's the Hierophant's number one," Thought continues. "You know. Chief Minion. Igor to his Frankenstein. Right Hand Man. You might as well say you want to find the Metatron." "I don't think the Metatron would help," Hairyhippy observes sagely. "What do you think Crow Boy is going to do?" Thought demands. Both ravens have fluffed up their feathers with agitation. "Give us an idea? Help us maybe. What have we got to lose?" "You want for me to write you a list?" Thought scoffs. "I can start with your extremities and go from there." "Will you help us?" The ravens bundle themselves into a huddle of impenetrable black feathers. From the huddle can be heard the odd whisper and squeak, and strange, almost metallic clickings and scrapings. Hairyhippy strains his ears to try to hear what they are saying, but can only make out snatches. "Boss....issed as all hell.....did you tell him? Lucky to get......eier left......for missing this." "Right!" Thought straightens himself out, speaking stilted English. "All right then. Who's coming?" "Just me," Macleach says. "It's not safe for the others, and we need a good strong contingent here just in case they manage to get out somehow." He beckons to Redshift, who comes over. "You know what to do if the worst happens, right?" "Yes," she nods. "Send Kehaar for help, slice and dice the frogs." "Nice one." Macleach mounts his steed. "Are you sure you don't want someone with you?" Aeroflash says with concern. "You can't even understand Huginn and Muninn here." "We'll get by. Just...keep an eye on things." He points his front wheel towards the exit. "Oh, and welcome back, Newbie." * * * Standing on the hill under the great Ash tree, the Hollow Man scents the breeze, a small smile playing on his thin lips. Behind him the bark still runs red where the One Eyed God was pierced to the trunk for his eight long days and nights of self-sacrifice. Above him, beyond the chaotic shattering of leaves, the sky spins through its never-ending kaleidoscope of colour as the sharp-toothed horses Alsvid and Arvak gallop hell for leather away from the wolf Skoll, dragging the sun with them. In A-Time everything is information. The slightest tendril, the lightest puff of breeze, the gentlest of zephyrs can carry a world of news. Today the wind tastes of caramel and snowdrops and nasturtium petals, with an underlying coppery tang. The Hollow Man closes his eyes, opening his senses, and the peculiar mesh that is the stuff of A-Time carries the vibration of a visitor, a visitor with a pair of very familiar guides. "Well well well," he murmurs to himself, one hand reaching into his pocket where he still has a single black feather that is not one of his own, carefully preened so that it looks like it is freshly plucked. His gaunt face twitches into an expression of wry amusement as his shifting, numinous eyes read the patterns reflected in the irridescence of the pinion. "Have you been licking toads again, Priestess?" He puts the feather back in his pocket, raises his arms above his shoulders, then brings them smartly downwards. There is an explosive clap of sound, and the thin, raincoated figure fragments into a flock of crows that scatters in all directions. * * * Macleach spins at an easy pace along the glossy black surface of the road, trying to tell himself that it's really no stranger than it was last time he was in A-Time, and as long as he doesn't attract the attention of the clowns he'll be just fine. He feels almost naked without the comforting presence of at least an emergency tin of Irn Bru on his person, but Aeroflash had warned him that, in this instance, it might make things worse rather than better. The Hollow Man is extremely powerful, and with his ability to manipulate A-Time possibly even greater than the Priestess's, there was no telling what might happen should Macleach attempt the transformation. Thought and Memory are soaring along just ahead, apparently working out where they need to go from the way the air is making their feathers ruffle, or something. He doesn't really know how they are finding their way: he doesn't really care. He's just grateful that they seem able. He hopes that this is not going to take long, either subjectively or in terms of how much time passes in the Cake Stop, because they don't have much time left to get Ravenbait out of this fugue and fit for action. "Don't worry," a voice says. Macleach slams on the brakes, pads squealing in protest. The ravens squawk in surprise and tumble over each other into a nearby bush, where they sit preening furiously to cover their embarrassment at being startled. The Hollow Man jumps down from where he was perched in a tree, landing lightly and gracefully as if weightless. He is twirling a feather in the long, pale, artistic fingers of his right hand. The hat shading his face does not quite block out the sight of the glowing eyes that change colour with every passing breath. "I know what you want," he tells Macleach. "Sadly there's not much I can do myself. Conflict of interest and all that. Until the Hierophant has sorted out the matter of payment over the last contract with the ABD, we're tied up in litigation and can't really be seen to be sleeping with the enemy." There's a sly smile in his eyes as he says that; teeth just showing in the shadow. Macleach realises there's more of a literal meaning to that than he cares to consider. "Still," the Hollow Man continues. "I'd hate for her to miss the Dun Run. It would make her cranky, and she's not nearly so much fun when she's cranky." He holds out one hand. Dangling from his fingers is a chain, and on the end of the chain is a set of dogtags. "Here's the man you want," he says. "They go way back. Tank next to hers in the lab, you see. Send him in, lock the doors, give it half an hour and no peeking. Voyeurism is such a dirty habit." Macleach takes the dog tags, turns them over so that he can read the name stamped onto the front. His eyes widen. "You can't be serious!" he says. But the Hollow Man has already gone. * * * There has been no sign of movement at all from inside the Cake Stop when Macleach returns, guided by Thought and Memory and with the hairy little man on the On-One Gimp in tow. The cyclists, stunned by his companion, although it is difficult to believe that they could be stunned by anything at this stage, greet his return with subdued silence. "Leave this to me," growls the hairy little man. "Lock the doors behind me. No peekin'." "The keys?" Cuddy Duck suggests, offering the means to open the locks currently on the doors. There is a bright, metallic snick and a glint of reflected sunshine. "Don't need 'em, bub," says the hairy little man. He prowls over to the door, and with one swipe of his claws both locks fall apart, Sold Secure or not. He disappears inside. There is a slight pause and then Kathy runs over and shoves a D-lock through the handles, locking them again, backing away slowly as there is a sudden outbreak of bangs, crashes, growls and snarls from inside. A chair bounces off the inside of the door, making the door jerk against the D-lock. It is quickly followed by a bolt of green light that fizzles harmlessly away into the sky. The assembled cyclists stare, holding their breath. They hear only one thing clearly, a plainly exasperated comment from Ravenbait. "We could be at this all day!" After what seems like hours everything goes quiet. As the silence extends, the cyclists creep forwards, nervously. Suddenly a set of razors slice through the D-lock holding the door closed and the hairy little man holds the door open. The cyclists take a unanimous step back. Ravenbait comes out, looking pink, flushed, sweaty and embarrassed. "Um," she says, "sorry about that," and puts her Rudy Projects on. "You won't have any more problem with the frogs," she adds. "I ain't cleanin' that up, darlin'," the hairy little man tells her, jerking one thumb over his shoulder to indicate the mess inside. He finds a half-smoked cigar in his pocket "No," Ravenbait sighs. "I'll sort it out." She wanders down the steps. After a pause to light his cigar, Logan follows her. The rest of the Cake Stoppers edge towards the door, and finally Bardsandwarriors is brave enough to look inside. Furniture is shredded and splintered. There is a suspicious blue ichor splattered all over the floor and the walls, and scraps of slimy green skin hanging from the notice boards and the tables. The dartboard is hanging at an angle and there are deep gashes in the nap of the pool table. Several of the spirits on optic have been smashed, and there is a plate on top of the bar covered in crumbs of chocolate cake. More crumbs of chocolate cake are smeared into the pool table's green baize. "You coming with us tomorrow?" Ravenbait asks Wolverine as they stand by the sheffield racks where their bikes are reminiscing. "Nah," Logan replies. "Today was fun, though. Just like old times." He swings his leg over the Gimp, and grins at her, cigar clamped between his sharp teeth. There is a twinkle in his eye. "Call me," he says, and rides off. "Will do," Ravenbait says to herself, and then turns round with a sigh. There is a mess to clear up and some more apologising to do, and then tomorrow they must escort Newbie to his date with the God of Le Tour. On the beach. At Dunwich. Sam http://www.ravenfamily.org "You'd think we'd just attract ants, like normal people." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: charlotte Replied on: 30/07/2004 13:22:01 Message: Go Sam!! (do we get the last installment before tomorrow?) -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 30/07/2004 13:31:54 Message: Gods no! That was nearly 3000 words in 3 hours! I'm still shaking. Anyway. How can I write about what happens at Dunwich when we haven't got there yet? Has anyone seen Newbie recently, anyway? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: charlotte Replied on: 30/07/2004 13:37:29 Message: Let's hope Newbie shows up Shall I bring the first aid kit and the really big needle and thread just in case, then -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: alchemy Replied on: 30/07/2004 14:10:01 Message: Gods no! That was nearly 3000 words in 3 hours! I'm still shaking. There must have been sparks flying off your keyboard _______________________________ Who put this bloody hill in the way !!! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 30/07/2004 17:53:43 Message: Calling Newbie! Come in Newbie! Are you still here? We're almost at the exciting bit where Lance gets to chop your head off -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Brock Replied on: 30/07/2004 20:07:17 Message: If I wasn't a. working this weekend and b. 300+ miles away. I think I'd be coming on this Dun Run thing, just to see if Newbie has the stuff of champions. Brilliantly done Sam but don't wear yourself out by typing, or the cycling might suffer. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TimC Replied on: 31/07/2004 14:36:33 Message: Love it! What day is it? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: PW Replied on: 01/08/2004 03:42:02 Message: In the next instalment of "Sir Newbie & the Yellow Knight" is Lady Bercilak going to grab a guitar & start caterwauling? :-) But then being a corvid she might be an ally of Ravenbait's. -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Fixed Wheelnut Replied on: 01/08/2004 22:39:37 Message: Sir Newbie where were you? your head has a price on it, Sam was not best pleased with your absence. Don't stop pedalling http://westkentctc.org.uk/index.html http://www.audax.uk.net/index2.htm -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 03/08/2004 12:36:17 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop Vol VI No. 13 Soundtrack: The Crystal Method - Vegas Being in that sort of mood, Ravenbait is in no mind to spend hours scrubbing and polishing and putting furniture to right. With a furrow of her otherworldly brow a small posse of minor demons turn up from somewhere in the Malebolge, driving before them a slave-gang of Simonists and fraudsters who are put to work sorting out the mess left behind by her re-union with Logan. Ridgerider and Alchemy give them a hand, just for something to do. The Priestess herself sits on the step, having already made further apologies to the rest of the Cake Stop, and particularly to Clare, moodily staring at Fingal and contemplating the ride ahead. Every year she has a great time, and every year she starts fretting about it the day beforehand. Fingal rolls his metaphorical eyes and ignores her. "Where is Newbie anyway?" she asks the world in general. "I don't know," says Kathy. "Perhaps he has already left for the Pub In The Park." "That would be keen of him," Ravenbait says, the Rudy Projects not hiding her unconvinced expression. "One might even go as far as to say unnaturally and uncharacteristically keen." Kathy catches sight of the time and makes a startled face, then calls for the handsome Mr Pike to attend her. "We've got to leave for the pub soon," she says. "We're meeting Bags and then picking you and AndyGates up at King's Cross." She frowns. "You know, it does seem a little silly. We could just go from here." Ravenbait chuckles, pushes her Rudy Projects up onto her head and unfolds herself to a standing position. "Ah. Yes. That would certainly save me forty quid in train tickets and the fifteen mile ride to the train station in the blistering sun. Still. Can't have everything, eh? You need to go back to get Herself and some jelly babies and I need to fit some more malt loaf in Fingal's rackpack." "Good point," Kathy says. She turns away to find Tim, and then seems to decide there's something on her mind that she simply has to mention. "RB?" "Yes, Kathy?" "You've got chocolate cake crumbs smeared all down your back." * * * A small party of Cake Stoppers is forming underneath the tree at the Pub In The Park, Martello Street, London E8. Ravenbait, AndyGates, Mr and Mrs Pike and Mr and Mrs Bagonabike were the first to arrive, having met up at King's Cross outside WH Smiths, currently in the process of being refurbished. There had been a moment on the near-sprint across London from Paddington when the Priestess had thought she had lost her travelling companion, but he turned up, sweating, a few moments after she stopped. Then had come the rather haphazard navigation exercise to get to the pub, and here they all are, discussing which of the nearest takeaways would be best. Eventually AndyGates and Mr Pike are dispatched on a scouting mission to fetch Chinese. The trickle of Cake Stoppers begins, and before long there is a veritable gaggle of them underneath the tree, including the likes of the Sheriff, Chuffy, Spiderman, PaulW, Charlotte, Evil Kiwi, Frustruck, Chris Land, Jokeyjon, Robgul and Nuttycyclist, with Ravenbait, as the distinctive member of the party, being sent out by the others on every sighting of a C+ jersey in an attempt to identify the wearer. There is much searching and casting of gazes around for Newbie, but of the Chosen One there is no sign. This is beginning to cause some consternation amongst the League and the Intrepid Sorority, for the very honour of the Cake Stop itself is at stake. Ravenbait's mood sours as time wears on and the hour of departure approaches and still there is no hint of hide or hair of him. There is some discussion about what will happen if he does not show. But soon there is no time for that. As happens every year, some uncanny signal announces that it is time to leave, and cyclists are lining up to head out underneath the blue railway bridge for the short, complex section through London traffic out towards Epping. Ravenbait heads off at a fast pace, initially with Evil Kiwi and PaulW, sprinting past rider after rider and scrutinising them carefully, overtaking Delgado and Mogden with a cheery hello, until she is sure that there are no other Cake Stoppers ahead of her, or at least no Newbie. She then finds a rather nice gentleman called Paul with whom to ride at a steadier, mile-eating pace. He is on a fixed gear; she can tell this because in the first hour of riding with him he does not stop pedalling once. He regales her with brave tales of completing the PBP twice, and doing all the qualifying rides on the fixed, and thusly they keep each other company through the Yawning Time and the strangely long wee hours of the morning, picking up a few other riders outside Sudbury, until they reach the hallowed hall of fairy candles in its customary place of being just that bit further away than one thinks. It is at this most sacred of places that the Chuffster, as keen as any not to miss anything that might happen with Lance the next morning, finally makes up the time gap that the Priestess had created in that first sprint start, and joins her just as she is sitting down to a nice cup of tea and a couple of bananas, taking a quiet moment to reacquaint herself with the inimitable Barry Mason and having bumped into Kebab121 in the queue. Mr Mason seems somewhat perturbed at the number of people who are greeting the Priestess by name with friendly familiarity, although, as he and the Priestess have been friends for a decade or so, it would seem more natural that he be used to it by now. As the numbers on the CatEye OS1.0 that allows Fingal constant communication with his mistress tick reprovingly onwards to show that it is 2am and Fingal is keen to be off again, the Priestess realises that she will have to depart soon if she is not to be forced to suffer the discomfort of being out and riding hard in the hot sun for the last twenty miles or so. She does not want to turn up for the showdown with the God of Le Tour with a sunburnt face. Chuffy expresses his pixie-ish desire to wait until the lovely Bagonabike has made an appearance, so that he can be assured of her safety and health and a small party begins to gather outside, waiting for the off. The green, blinking rope light with which the Priestess decorated her Camelback seems to be an attractant for cyclists new to the Dun Run. She eventually finds herself leading a pack of a dozen or so riders, including Tom of Bramley apple fame and Need Another Gear, spinning at an unseasonably fast pace towards Needham Market, with the lumicycles blazing to allow even faster descents. The group splits at Framlingham, where some of the riders see some cyclists stopped in a bus stop, having a snack, and decide to do likewise. From there the pace just gets faster. The sun, somewhat lethargic this year compared to others, is starting to make an appearance and Ravenbait knows that soon Lance will be there. Waiting. If there is no one there to meet him he could cry forfeit, and the Priestess cannot tolerate the thought of the Cake Stop being brought into disrepute. Eight and a half miles out, taking the route through Sibton Church posted last year as this year's route sheet has become illegible with sweat, being kept in the jersey pocket. The first sign for Dunwich is sighted. With a roar of enthusiasm NeedAnotherGear ups the pace still further, Andy W with him all the way, and with Chuffy's horrified protestations ringing in their ears, the group of four remaining from the dozen or so who left the village hall together put heads down, set their teeth into the wind and sprint for the line at speeds of twenty miles per hour or more. The sky is still grey when they reach the beach. Swarms of hoverflies are everywhere, a sure sign that something mythic is about to take place. Ravenbait quickly scans the benches and chair, casts a thoughtful tendril of awareness towards the beach. Good, he's not here yet. But neither is Newbie. Still, she knows that most of the Cake Stop are behind her, so plenty of time for breakfast and a good, hot cup of tea. * * The well-trained, single-minded juggernaut that is the USPS team hammers along one of the main roads of A-Time at a speed that would average close to 60kph if Euclidean geometry held sway. At the back of the pack, in his customary position, the God of Le Tour spins easily, a grim smile playing about his thin lips. Even the clowns seem to prefer to divert course, shifting aircraft carrier-sized feet ever so slightly so that their mysterious wanderings do not take them across the path of the pace line. Snake women recoil, hissing fearfully as the whirring transmissions hurtle past them, and birds flap away from the road, squawking and hooting in flustered panic. The chain gang streaks past a parliament of rooks making a cacophony in a large yew tree and descends a dip on the other side, cadence furious. As soon as they have passed the corvids fall silent. There is a rustling sound, as of wind in the leaves, but there is no wind, and a sudden shower of black feathers falls from amongst the branches, scattering onto the ground. The Hollow Man gazes down the road at the rapidly retreating peleton from his perch on a stout branch. On another branch, in the tree on the opposite side of the road, Wolverine looks in a similar direction, nostrils flaring. "I is goings now, ja ja?" The seagull, previously silent and still, hops up and down impatiently by the Hollow Man's left foot. "Yes, Kehaar," the Hollow Man says, eyes dancing. He and Logan exchange somewhat predatory grins and the hairy little man jumps down to the ground and pulls his Gimp out from a blackthorn bush. Thorns rip open the skin on his forearms, but the scratches close over immediately without spilling one drop of blood. The seagull runs a couple of steps along the branch and then jumps off, wings spreading, catching a breath of a thermal coming off the blacktop and spiralling upwards. "I is goings now!" Kehaar calls as he rapidly gains height. "You do that," the Hollow Man murmurs. Wolverine lights up a cigar. "Your call, Rupe," Logan says. "Can we beat 'im, or are we just goin' along for the floor show?" The Hollow Man merely smiles. He jumps lightly out of the tree, and, as he does so, his coat falls open. Underneath he is bare-chested, hairless white skin stretched tight across prominent ribs, the area under his sternum almost cavernous. His face is still hidden in the shadow of his hat, but his skin is crawling with lines of pattern, as if the time worms are leaving their casts just below the surface. He beckons with the fingers on his right hand, and leads Wolverine around the side of the yew tree. There, in the thin yellow grass, are the faint signs of a trail. The patterns on his skin intensify, writhing disturbingly, and the path becomes clearer, more distinct. "We can get there before him," the Hollow Man smiles, and it is the cold hard smile of the hunter. Sam http://www.ravenfamily.org "You'd think we could just attract ants, like normal people." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: jokeyjon Replied on: 03/08/2004 12:44:17 Message: The scene is set I'm just a modern man....of course I've had it in the ear before -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 03/08/2004 13:32:45 Message: Well gosh, boys and girls! Here we are, and almost at the end of the latest escapade in this most hallowed of educational periodicals for boys and girls of all ages who have an adventure-loving persuasion. Where is Newbie? Will he make an appearance before the piston-like thighs of the USPS team make it to the beach at Dunwich to claim Lance's part of the challenge? Will he prove to be yellow, and a coward, thus allowing the honour of the Cake Stop to be sullied forever and no doubt leading to instant blackballing from the League of Gentlemen Cyclists? What strange and devious ploy does the Hollow Man have in mind, a ploy so cunning that the adamentium-beclawed Wolverine has joined forces with him, if only for the present? Where is Kehaar going? Find out in the next exciting installment of Chronicles of the Cake Stop Starring The League of Gentlemen Cyclists: Gunner - the Adonis of two wheels Tim Pike - the charming Mr Pike EvilChuffy - a scallywag with a heart of gold Flying Monkey - guru and all round good egg Rigby - a true gentleman Derall - another Founder of the League of Gentlemen Cyclists Steelman - the Teutonic master of pleasure FatBloke - no longer wanted by the Marine Mammals Defence Fund Sheriff Ron Strutt - keeping order in time of peril The Archaeologist - master of holes and the Don's right hand man Yenrod - The Archaeologist's personal bodyguard Macleach - Keeper of the Sacred Irn Bru Muckspreader - Deputy Sheriff Hairyhippy - Chief Gardner Gordon - proclaimer of the obvious things that other men miss Shen - full of oriental martial promise ZimZum42 - a proven companion of exotic taste and splendour Chris Land - not as slow as he says he is Nuttycyclist - not fruity, you know Bardsandwarriors - the Eddie Izzard of the Cake Stop Gonzo - the boy of the zebra stripes Bomber Castle - "If you can fly a Sopwith Camel, you can fly anything!" TooMuchCake - "There's no such thing." Somersetbiker - Butcombe's biggest fan AndyGates - wearer of a big, gay hat Brock - a gentle, quiet soul Withers - the Godfather of C+ NeedAnotherGear - a lunatic in lycra Yardstick - even more of a speed freak than NAG Evil Kiwi - actually quite nice really AndyW - he of the yellow Saracen Fixedwheelnut - who needs more than one? Delgado - with the rather fetching headscarf Spiderman - NOT Peter Parker Cyclemonkey - the pedalling ape Newbie - the Sir Gawain of the Cake Stop The Aquatic Fowl on Bikes Society: Cuddy Duck - founder of AFBS Pingu and Mrs Pingu - Also of the Pinniped Preservation Project Seagull J.L Seagull not forgetting MingMong Shane Gordy LamBO Groucho Oldnewbiker Rafletcher Jimbo Craig0201 Alans Wilf Terry Simplesbharris WeirdNeville Jokeyjon Alchemy Stedly Cookiemonster Ridgerider Laurence Backtocycling The Intrepid Sorority: Ravenbait - the High Priestess of the Temple Kathy Pike - a plucky and courageous gentlewoman Clare - she who runs the Cake Stop Bar and Grill Redshift - another plucky heroine with an eye for a sword Kitzy - a fair and innocent young maiden Peliroja - part of the London massive MrsDolcetto - Evil Bitch Queen of the High Street, but only to her friends Bagonabike - self-deprecating but really rather lovely Ariadne - another babe on a bike Arellcat - one of the Windcheetah Warriors Charlotte - handy with a banana Mogden - ever cheerful Mrs Cyclemonkey - married to Mr Cyclemonkey Also starring: The Triple Goddess of Cycling - an oasis of sanity in a world gone mad Aeroflash - Ascended to the side of the Goddess and putting on a good show for a dead person Colin the Chief Controller - a fat goblin Mrs Colin - a gentlewoman goblin married to Mr Colin Helga - Temple Maiden and Steelman's latest pleasure Thought - a raven Memory - a raven Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Pike - a pair of rascally ferrets Captain Heinekenquaffer Fatarse - the Irn Bru Warrior's dreaded alter ego The Hollow Man - an old chum of Ravenbait's with some peculiar habits Wolverine - a hairy little man Kehaar - a seagull with a Napoleon complex Captain Jack Sparrow - the greatest pirate in the world Westley - once the Dread Pirate Roberts Lance Armstrong - the God of Le Tour The Humungous - gone but not forgotten Various members of exotic pantheons of a pagan nature Additional members of the League of Gentlemen Cyclists and the Intrepid Sorority Temple Maidens Temple Guards Assorted ineffable denizens of A-Time -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TimC Replied on: 03/08/2004 14:05:06 Message: Don't leave me like this!! How can I cope without consummation? I have to leave for parts Nipponese in the morning - and probably without access to the Cakestop until Saturday evening. What to do I could nip up to Dunwich this afternoon and get some eyewitness' statements, I suppose, but they wouldn't have the drama and gravitas of Sam's bewitching storytelling. Oh bum. What day is it? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 03/08/2004 15:52:46 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop Vol VI No. 14 Soundtrack: The Prodigy - Fat Of The Land The Cake Stoppers have congregated around one of the picnic tables outside the cafe at Dunwich, and are sitting in the cool grey morning, being plagued by the eerie swarm of hover flies that are settling on everyone and everything. Noble steeds swap stories as they stand unlocked, secure in the knowledge that there is little, if any risk, of any ne-er do wells interfering with them as the majority of people present have arrived by bicycle and are far too attached to their own mounts to be considering walking off with anyone else's. Already some of the more intrepid members of the League and the Sorority have been swimming in the rolling metallic gloss of the North Sea, announcing themselves refreshed and re- invigorated for the dip. And still no sign of Newbie. The High Priestess of the Temple is starting to mutter dark words about what should be done with ungrateful wretches who do not keep to their word, her black eyes becoming ever more like bottomless pits where the souls of those damned to the seventh level of Hell can be found writhing in torment. It is almost ten of the clock, and all is not well in the world of the Cake Stop. The Priestess suddenly arises from her place at the table, absently patting Fingal as she passes him, stalking towards the beach. "Oh dear," says Chuffy, pointed ears twitching nervously. "What do you think she's going to do?" Charlotte asks. "I don't know," Kathy says. "But I'm sure I just saw a hairy little man on an On-One Gimp ride straight past the cafe and down towards the beach." "Really?" Charlotte asks, eyebrows raised. The Cake Stoppers sit motionless, looking at each other for a few long seconds, and then they get up as one and bolt across the sandy gravel to the shore, watched by score upon score of other cyclists, some of whom make moves to follow at a more leisurely pace. They crunch past the fishing boats hauled up above the high water mark that have exhausted cyclists sleeping in their shade. A group of London cycle couriers are gathered just in front of the beach huts, in their usual place, having dipped front wheels in the water. The Cake Stoppers scan the beach, looking for the Priestess. "There!" says Fixedwheelnut, pointing across the beach. Sure enough, there is the black-clad figure of the Priestess, and she is not alone. "Is that....?" Kathy's voice tails off. She can't quite believe what she is seeing. It cannot be a good sign. "Yes," says Chuffy, not best pleased himself. "That's the Hollow Man." "How can he be here?" Kathy asks, horrified. This is the Real World. They rode one hundred and twenty miles to get there and she felt every single one of them. "Let's go and ask, shall we?" Charlotte suggests brightly, and wanders across the pebbles towards the small group of three. Need Another Gear almost stops her, but AndyGates shrugs as if to say 'What the Hell' and starts after her. The Priestess and her two old friends are talking quietly when the others get there. Thought and Memory have arrived as well, and are chasing hoverflies across the stones, greedily snapping them up as if they were puffs of popcorn. Up above a seagull utters its shrill cry and begins to circle downwards. "Ooooh! A seagull!" Chuffy exclaims excitedly. "That's Kehaar," Kathy says, a little breathlessly, sure that this can mean only one thing. She stands on tip-toe, shading her eyes with her hand, stares out to sea towards the horizon. Sure enough, she espies a sail, and hugs herself, feeling her knees go a little watery. "Newbie's bailed," the Priestess says grimly when Nutty and the others reach her. "I just got confirmation from my friends here." She nods towards the Hollow Man and Logan. Logan still has his cigar clamped between his teeth. "Bailed?" Tim Pike repeats. "The insufferable rotter! That's an instant blackballing offence, I am sure." "Gunner certainly won't be very impressed," Yardstick agrees. "Why did he bail?" Charlotte asks, unable to comprehend why he would let them down like this. Had he not been on the quest? "He got antsy when Raven was locked up with the frogs," Logan explains. "Didn't wait long enough to see me bring her out. Knucklehead. Figured if the Priestess was outta action, he was a dead man." "Well he certainly is now," Ravenbait says grimly. "Luckily I plan for such eventualities." The Hollow Man chuckles at that, a strangely sibilant sound that suggests that what he finds humorous is not something that anyone else would be able to share. "Here he comes, Priestess," he says. There is a purple smudge forming some hundred yards further along the beach. The edges of the rift sparkle, the filamentous structure of the boundary between worlds diffracting light from within into a thousand fractured hues. Blacktop appears, floating a hair's breadth above the pebbles of the beach. Where the rift structure shimmers hoverflies drop dead in their hundreds. Then comes the USPS team, freewheeling to a stop on the tarmac just this side of the rift. Armstrong dismounts, scrawny body atop a pair of legs that appear manufactured rather than grown, and hands his bike over to one of his domestiques. "Where is he, Priestess?" he shouts. "Where is the young buck who was foolish enough to accept my challenge?" One of the other domestiques hands him the same brutal looking chainset with which Newbie had decapitated him so many months before. "In a rush, bub?" Logan growls. "Got sumthin' important to do today besides choppin' off some chump's head?" "We had an agreement," Armstrong snarls viciously. "I come to claim my rightful return. If the Chosen One is not here to accept his punishment like a man, I shall have one of the rest of you. I shall have you, Priestess, just as it should have been you in the first place!" "Oh, I don't think so," says the Hollow Man. "What do you think you are going to do about it?" Armstrong demands. "You're just the Hierophant's lackey." In the shadow cast by his hat, one of the Hollow Man's eyebrows is raised into a bemused arch. "I don't think there's any 'just' about it," he says mildly. "Ahoy there the shore!" Cake Stoppers and creatures of A-Time turn to see a tender from The Black Pearl coming swiftly across the steely surface of the sea. Captain Jack Sparrow is standing in the prow, Gunner and Macleach are at the oars. Newbie is sitting in the stern with Aeroflash on one side of him and Jack Shandy on the other, looking white, ghostly and unutterably miserable. Another longboat is following them, containing more of the Cake Stop massive left behind. "How?" Kathy asks, eyes shining delightedly to see her old friend. "This is Dunwich," says the Hollow Man, eyes fading from deep blue to grey-gold. "Dunwich is neither here nor there, and has not been since it fell into the sea. Dunwich is one of those mystic, liminal places, even more so when getting here means forgoing sleep and pushing to the limit of exhaustion on the festival of Lammas." "Raven didn't suggest this place for no reason," Logan adds, blowing out a plume of cigar smoke. He was thoughtfully standing downwind of Kathy, so she didn't mind that he was smoking near her. "Ah," says Captain Jack, stepping out of the tender with consummate ease the very second before it hits the shore. "The ever lovely Mrs Pike." His dark eyes twinkle, and he doffs his hat. "It is my deep, deep pleasure to renew our acquaintance." He bows and kisses the back of Kathy's hand. Kathy blushes a deep pink. Macleach and Gunner drag the longboat some way up the beach. Aeroflash and Shandy half-help, half- manhandle an increasingly reluctant Newbie out of the stern of the boat and onto the shore. Pebbles crunch under their feet. "Now," the Priestess says, eyes glittering like coal on a winter's morning. Behind the small gathering of A-Time denizens and Cake Stoppers, a large part of the Dun Run contingent has assembled and is looking on with evident bewilderment and confusion. This is not helping Newbie feel any better. He is sure that the rust-coloured patches on the nasty Shimano chainset that Armstrong has in one hand is blood left over from last time. "I believe you and Newbie made an appointment," she says to the God of Le Tour. "Don't worry, bub," Wolverine grins, but it is not a comforting grin. "The Pikes brought plenty of cable ties for fixin' them damned fairy lights to the tandem. I'm sure we'll work sumthin' out if the worst happens." "Would you like a sherbet UFO?" Charlotte inquires kindly, holding out the packet. "Better than a fizzy cola bottle up the bum." Newbie looks like he's about to burst into tears. Armstrong steps forward, lips curled into a sneer. Everyone but Newbie takes a couple of steps back; not because they are afraid, but to give him room. The Priestess murmurs a few words. "Hold fast, young Newbie," she says, and there is a smile playing on her lips as Armstrong raises the chainset high above his head. But Newbie flinches and Armstrong misses. "Pathetic!" he spits. "Did you see me flinch when you struck at me? Are those of the Cake Stop so paltry and weak that they can not stand like men?" Something inside Newbie seems to harden. "Take your best shot," he says quietly. Everyone else is too engrossed in the action to see the satisfied glance passed between the Priestess, Captain Jack, Shandy, Logan and the Hollow Man. This time Newbie does not flinch. Even so, Armstrong misses. "One more time, Lance," Newbie says. "This is your last chance to make a proper job of it." The God of Le Tour swings again, and this time he hits, but it is a slight nick. A slight trickle of blood forms a thread of deep red down the side of Newbie's neck, quickly drying. Newbie lifts his head and there is rage in his eyes. "That was it, Lance. That was your chance. I was more than fair." "As was I, Newbie," Armstrong says. "I trained you, fed you, offered you food and wine and hospitality. You return this by allowing the lovely Sheryl to tempt you. So. Three blows: one for every brush with temptation, and of these only one resulted in me missing my morning coffee. I did say I would forget about it until the next time we met. Don't worry. I forgive you." Newbie is feeling the nick on his neck, his face wide with shock. "But what was the point of it all?" he asks. "Why?" "I can only tell you one thing," says Armstrong, returning to his domestiques and getting back on his bike. One of his team takes the chainset from him and stows it somewhere. Armstrong smiles as the team turns round and points towards the scintillating rift. "It's not about the bike." With that they were gone. Newbie turns to the Priestess for an explanation, but she is speaking with Wolverine, the Hollow Man, Captain Jack and Shandy, a satisfied smile on her face. "Why?" he asks again, looking imploringly at the rest of the Cake Stop massive. "Why?" Kathy laughs. "Three months of entertainment, silly boy. That's why. Anyone want a jelly baby?" * * * It is another two hours before the coach is due to leave for London, and most of the cyclists are snoozing or drinking tea in the first bright rays of sunshine to break through the heavy cloud cover. The mythic cycle is complete, and now the sun returns, blazing out with her freely-given warmth. It will be many hours yet before the Dun Runners make it back to the Cake Stop, now fully refurbished and back to its usual self after the demise of the ninja attack frogs. Many Cake Stoppers have put names to faces for the first time, and perhaps the Cake Stop will find a new batch of eager cyclists seeking to swell the numbers for the next adventure. For there will be other adventures. Kathy knows this, sitting with Mr Pike on the foredeck of The Black Pearl listening to Captain Jack Sparrow tell stories. Chuffy knows this, as he and Bags and Charlotte discuss things to do with strawberry bootlaces and fizzy cola bottles with AndyGates and Nuttycyclist. Ravenbait certainly knows this, as she sits breathing in Wolverine's cigar smoke and reminiscing about days long past while sharing a joint with him and the Hollow Man. It's only a matter of time. This is the Cake Stop, after all. Sam http://www.ravenfamily.org "You'd think we could just attract ants, like normal people." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 03/08/2004 15:56:39 Message: quote: -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Originally posted by TimC Don't leave me like this!! How can I cope without consummation? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Oh, all right then. Now, you all know what happens next. But can I have a story line that's not quite so restrictive this time? Gawain and the Green Knight made things a wee bit too obvious . -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: TimC Replied on: 03/08/2004 19:19:26 Message: Aaahhh! Thanks, Sam! I could not have survived three days in the Far East wondering what had happened. That Newbie, eh? Lucky chap, I'd say! Nice ending, though! What day is it? -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Brock Replied on: 04/08/2004 09:42:47 Message: A superbly crafted tale, as ever. The subtle inclusion of moments from the Dun Run, made me laugh heartily. [fizzy coke bottles!] -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Ravenbait Replied on: 04/08/2004 15:16:47 Message: Chronicles of the Cake Stop Vol VI Epilogue Soundtrack: Jean Sibelius - Finlandia The sudden whack-whack-whack from outside in the sky above the Cake Stop draws a small throng of cyclists out from where they have been nursing their lunchtime drinks while discussing which Led Zeppelin tracks they liked the best, how everyone did on the Dun Run, whether it is better to go for a ride before or after breakfast and the upcoming Circle Line Party. Gunner is already spoiling for another fight but Yenrod, Keith Oates, Chuffy and NeedAnotherGear have been distracting him with mini pumps and a discussion regarding for which side Yenrod's ex-girlfriend batted. TLDNMCL has been trying very hard to make sense of some odd emails he was getting from business colleagues. All this is brought to a halt by the thwocking of the incoming helicopter, which appears to be following a pair of scruffy, dishevelled ravens. The pilot is evidently not a forummer, requiring a guide to get to the Cake Stop. Cyclists gather in a huddle, pointing up at the incoming aircraft and frowning. What on Earth is a helicopter doing coming to this most hallowed of places, where the only forms of transport allowed are human powered? Why are Thought and Memory showing it the way to get here? What on Earth is going on? The helicopter hovers, low over the bike racks. The downdraft whips up leaves and dust, creating a small hurricane in the bike park. The cyclists see that it has a large box slung underneath it, and as it hovers there someone in the back of the aircraft proceeds to lower the box to the ground. When it has set down safely, Ravenbait, who had been standing to one side apparently unperturbed by this strange event, wanders over and undoes the cables attaching the box to the helicopter. She waves to the pilot. The pilot, clearly visible at that low height, waves back and makes a series of hand gestures that the other cyclists do not understand but which have Ravenbait grinning broadly. Then the helicopter drops forwards a little so that its nose is pointing downwards and turns round in a wide arc before whack-whack-whacking back the way it had come. The two ravens float down to land on a sheffield stand. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern bound over to the box and start nosing around it curiously. "It's not a giant fruit cake is it?" Kathy asks. "Does it have a card?" asks Mrs Pingu. "Actually, yes," Kitzy replies. "It's addressed to you, Mrs P." "Me?" Kathy asks, surprised. "No, Mrs Pingu," Kitzy says. "Oh," Mrs Pingu looks somewhat afflicted by trepidation. "Maybe I should just get Macleach or Gunner to open it." Ravenbait smiles. "It's perfectly safe," she says. "I promise." Nevertheless it is Macleach who brings over a crowbar and forces open the lid of the crate. There is an immediate sound of "Auroo, auroo, auroo," from inside the box that is inside the crate, and splashing. "Oh!" Mrs Pingu squeals, clapping her hands. Excitedly, she pulls off the lid. "Sorry it took so long," Ravenbait tells her as she jumps into the tank with the Galapagos fur seal which seems as delighted to see her as she is to see him. "The visas took an age to organise." "I thought my seal had been forgotten," Mrs Pingu says, being tickled by the seal's whiskers. "No," Ravenbait replies. "Just delayed." The Priestess wanders over and releases Fingal from his sheffield stand. She is wearing a new pair of Rudy Project Freons, her previous pair having been lost at Paddington on the way back from Dunwich. These ones came from her local bike shop but she has an appointment with Wayland the Smithy to get fitted for a new pair, and he had said that he has some upgrades to discuss with her. "How long will you be gone?" Aeroflash asks, pretending not to have notice the hairy little man on the One One Gimp waiting by the exit of the Cake Stop. "Not sure," she says. "Depends on how long it takes you mob to come up with another set of ridiculous circumstances that require attention." "About five minutes then," he chuckles. "Keep an eye on things, will you?" She fastens her Met Straddy and puts in the earphones for the minidisc. "And don't eat all the malt loaf. I'll be hungry when I get back." Aeroflash catches the eye of the hairy little man with the cigar, who grins at him, unabashed. "I'll just bet you will," he murmurs as the Priestess clips in and Fingal sets off down the road. Sam http://www.ravenfamily.org "You'd think we could just attract ants, like normal people." -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Mrs Pingu Replied on: 04/08/2004 21:05:25 Message: Awwwh! A seal, helicoptered in just for me! What a star you are Sam I knew you hadn't forgotten -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Help Help I'm being oppressed! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Finch Replied on: 04/08/2004 21:59:41 Message: I have never pissed myself so much with laughter in a long long time , I've only been to cake stop a couple of times and only usually browse the topic names. It just goes to show you can't judge a book by it's cover ! Now , is anyone intrested in a pair of Speedplay x3's or what !?! hee hee . Also how do you put emoticons on a normal reply ? the wee panel captain - it's no there ! Listen up , I have something to say ! It's better to burn out , than to fade away ! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Reply author: Aeroflash Replied on: 06/08/2004 20:40:48 Message: Oh bravo, congrats and general superlatives all round!!!! Sorry about the restrictive storyline! But I think all will agree Sam did wonders with it, and the stuff with the frogs was too cool. This is a very erudite forum, sure, but there must be one or two who hadn't read Gawain? Surely? Quite fancy those Speedplays though. And a new bike. Made by Hephaestus. And Keira Knightly. Kept some malt loaf for ya RB, don't do anything I wouldn't do. Matt 'The Problem with being a druid is, you've got to be prepared to make sacrifices' -------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Cycling Plus : http://www.cyclingplus.co.uk/forum/ © 2004 cyclingplus.co.uk Close Window