Part the Third...
Victor turns to the others, but they've already been taken off by Rose and Lee and are listening to a potted history of their furniture restoration business. Gordon's already rummaging in the furniture piled up on the back of the truck.
"Looks like it's just you and me, drummer boy," smirks Gypsy. "Come on, I'm not standing here all day. Are you coming or not?" And she marches off in the direction of the woods.
Realising that even a walk with a mad old gypsy is better than an afternoon listening to woodworm stories, Victor sets off after her, and before long they're strolling through pleasant woodland, chatting away like old friends.
"The trick with fortune-telling, you see, is to be as vague as possible," Gypsy explains. "That way you stand half a chance of getting it right. Let's face it, my repertoire consists mainly of 'you are in terrible danger' or 'you will live a long and prosperous life.' Beyond that people don't much care. You might be better paid for 'You will win $10m on next week's lottery', but it usually backfires."
"How's that?"
"Well, they usually spend that week running up the credit card bills - new cars, fancy holiday bookings, that landscaped garden they've always dreamed of - and then when their numbers don't come up, they tend to see red."
"You sound like you're speaking from experience," laughs Victor. "You ever get yourself into trouble?"
"Nothing I couldn't handle, kiddo," she says demurely. "Let's just says it helps that we're on the move a lot. Anyway, that's enough about me. Why don't we take a rest here and you can tell me about yourself?"
Victor looks around. They've arrived at a small clearing in the trees, which makes the woods around them seem denser than before. At the centre of the clearing is a well.
"Weird," says Victor. "We're in the middle of the woods, there's no village for miles around here. What's with the well?"
Gypsy plonks herself under a tree and fans her face. "How should I know? I told you, I don't have psychic powers. As far as I'm concerned it's damned convenient. I'm parched. Although I guess it's probably dry."
Victor tosses a pebble into the well and there's a splash. "Looks like it's your lucky day." He peers down the well and laughs.
"You know," he says, "Gordon once wrote a song about a well...."
********************************************
Meanwhile, back on the interstate......
Gordon is snoozing (but not drooling!) in an old rocking chair he found in the back of the truck. Brian is deep in conversation with Rose.
".....furniture stripping, you're so lucky. I always dreamed of being in the restoration business myself - got my very own French polishing kit for my tenth birthday - I had it all planned out. Then, y'know, the band came along, one thing led to another and the furniture stripping dreams were gradually sidelined, then forgotten. You know how it is; we all have to make a living. I expect I'll look back at what could have been when I'm an old man - all those years spent playing to screaming fans when I could have been running my own restoration business like you..."
While they're talking, a black van pulls up alongside them. A familiar bass line is pounding on the stereo, and the driver and passengers alike are singing along to a woeful tale of poverty, murder and suicide. They sound quite jolly about it, actually.
The young woman in the front passenger seat leans out the window and calls over, "Hey, how long have you guys been stuck here?"
Brian strolls over and peers into the van. His vision is partially obscured by the large map the woman has spread out in front of her, which is, rather worryingly, upside down. "About three hours so far, and looking at the traffic I don't think we're going anywhere in a hurry." He notices that the passengers and the driver are all women, although one of them is sporting a rather magnificent beard. One of the girls in the back leans forward excitedly.
"Hey, you look kind of familiar - did anyone ever tell you you're the spitting image of the bassist from the Femmes?"
"All the time," sighs Brian, rolling his eyes. He decides to change the subject. "So what are five lovely...ahem, ladies doing round here in a big black van?"
"Six," cuts in the driver. She's obviously not impressed by the charm, and Brian gets the impression that if there's any sanity in this van, it may lie with this woman. "There are actually six of us, and we're not all ladies."
"Yeah," says a bespectacled girl in the back. She's holding a big stick. "We had to restrain Mcqualls because he got drunk on rum and tried to board another car. I wouldn't have minded but we were doing ninety at the time." Sure enough, Brian spies a dishevelled figure slumped on the floor of the van, pirate hat and eyepatch askew, regarding him manically. "Ahoy there, shipmate!" he growls.
"And as for Mit here," says the driver, "he’s always wanted to be a bearded lady in the circus, but Nature kind of messed that up for him, so he has to make do with wearing a dress and speaking in falsetto."
Jeez, thinks Brian, the local loony bin must run a day release programme.
"It's nowhere near as glamorous as the real thing," says Mit. "There's only so much money to be made in the pretend-bearded-lady business."
"It's the same with fortune-telling," says Rose, who's been listening to this. "Our Gypsy's always complaining that too many folks are taking their custom to the professionals nowadays. I wonder what happened to her and Victor, anyway? They should be back by now."
They look at the sky. It's getting dark, and black clouds are beginning to gather overhead. There's still no sign of the traffic moving.
"Hey Gordon!" shouts Brian. "Wake up! We'd better see if we can find Victor."
"I wouldn't advise it," warns Lee. "These woods are a maze at the best of times; I wouldn't go wandering out there at night.
Gordon ambles over, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Who are these guys?" he asks, gesturing towards the black van.
A bunch of raving nutters, Brian is about to answer, but the excitable young lady in the back leans out and grins. "We're the Femmebots. We were on a road trip but it looks like we're stuck here with you guys now." She bats her eyelashes at Gordon. "We're planning on having a little shindig while we wait. You guys wanna join the fun?"
Rose and Lee grin at one another. "Well, you know what they say about furniture strippers - we're a bunch of party animals!" says Rose. Lee's already helping the Femmebots set up the sound system.
Brian and Gordon frown. "What about Victor?" says Gordon. "We can't just leave him out there, we really ought to go find him."
"Yeah," agrees Brian, "but you heard what Lee said about the woods......and besides, who'll look after the van?"
"Oh come on, admit it! You just wanna stay for the party!" teases Gordon.
"Yeah, well, it beats trudging through the woods at night," says Brian. "Come on, we'd better decide pronto what we're gonna do...."
****************************************
So what do Gordon and Brian do now? Set off into the woods to look for their drummer, or decide that Victor can look after himself and join in the party?
"Looks like it's just you and me, drummer boy," smirks Gypsy. "Come on, I'm not standing here all day. Are you coming or not?" And she marches off in the direction of the woods.
Realising that even a walk with a mad old gypsy is better than an afternoon listening to woodworm stories, Victor sets off after her, and before long they're strolling through pleasant woodland, chatting away like old friends.
"The trick with fortune-telling, you see, is to be as vague as possible," Gypsy explains. "That way you stand half a chance of getting it right. Let's face it, my repertoire consists mainly of 'you are in terrible danger' or 'you will live a long and prosperous life.' Beyond that people don't much care. You might be better paid for 'You will win $10m on next week's lottery', but it usually backfires."
"How's that?"
"Well, they usually spend that week running up the credit card bills - new cars, fancy holiday bookings, that landscaped garden they've always dreamed of - and then when their numbers don't come up, they tend to see red."
"You sound like you're speaking from experience," laughs Victor. "You ever get yourself into trouble?"
"Nothing I couldn't handle, kiddo," she says demurely. "Let's just says it helps that we're on the move a lot. Anyway, that's enough about me. Why don't we take a rest here and you can tell me about yourself?"
Victor looks around. They've arrived at a small clearing in the trees, which makes the woods around them seem denser than before. At the centre of the clearing is a well.
"Weird," says Victor. "We're in the middle of the woods, there's no village for miles around here. What's with the well?"
Gypsy plonks herself under a tree and fans her face. "How should I know? I told you, I don't have psychic powers. As far as I'm concerned it's damned convenient. I'm parched. Although I guess it's probably dry."
Victor tosses a pebble into the well and there's a splash. "Looks like it's your lucky day." He peers down the well and laughs.
"You know," he says, "Gordon once wrote a song about a well...."
********************************************
Meanwhile, back on the interstate......
Gordon is snoozing (but not drooling!) in an old rocking chair he found in the back of the truck. Brian is deep in conversation with Rose.
".....furniture stripping, you're so lucky. I always dreamed of being in the restoration business myself - got my very own French polishing kit for my tenth birthday - I had it all planned out. Then, y'know, the band came along, one thing led to another and the furniture stripping dreams were gradually sidelined, then forgotten. You know how it is; we all have to make a living. I expect I'll look back at what could have been when I'm an old man - all those years spent playing to screaming fans when I could have been running my own restoration business like you..."
While they're talking, a black van pulls up alongside them. A familiar bass line is pounding on the stereo, and the driver and passengers alike are singing along to a woeful tale of poverty, murder and suicide. They sound quite jolly about it, actually.
The young woman in the front passenger seat leans out the window and calls over, "Hey, how long have you guys been stuck here?"
Brian strolls over and peers into the van. His vision is partially obscured by the large map the woman has spread out in front of her, which is, rather worryingly, upside down. "About three hours so far, and looking at the traffic I don't think we're going anywhere in a hurry." He notices that the passengers and the driver are all women, although one of them is sporting a rather magnificent beard. One of the girls in the back leans forward excitedly.
"Hey, you look kind of familiar - did anyone ever tell you you're the spitting image of the bassist from the Femmes?"
"All the time," sighs Brian, rolling his eyes. He decides to change the subject. "So what are five lovely...ahem, ladies doing round here in a big black van?"
"Six," cuts in the driver. She's obviously not impressed by the charm, and Brian gets the impression that if there's any sanity in this van, it may lie with this woman. "There are actually six of us, and we're not all ladies."
"Yeah," says a bespectacled girl in the back. She's holding a big stick. "We had to restrain Mcqualls because he got drunk on rum and tried to board another car. I wouldn't have minded but we were doing ninety at the time." Sure enough, Brian spies a dishevelled figure slumped on the floor of the van, pirate hat and eyepatch askew, regarding him manically. "Ahoy there, shipmate!" he growls.
"And as for Mit here," says the driver, "he’s always wanted to be a bearded lady in the circus, but Nature kind of messed that up for him, so he has to make do with wearing a dress and speaking in falsetto."
Jeez, thinks Brian, the local loony bin must run a day release programme.
"It's nowhere near as glamorous as the real thing," says Mit. "There's only so much money to be made in the pretend-bearded-lady business."
"It's the same with fortune-telling," says Rose, who's been listening to this. "Our Gypsy's always complaining that too many folks are taking their custom to the professionals nowadays. I wonder what happened to her and Victor, anyway? They should be back by now."
They look at the sky. It's getting dark, and black clouds are beginning to gather overhead. There's still no sign of the traffic moving.
"Hey Gordon!" shouts Brian. "Wake up! We'd better see if we can find Victor."
"I wouldn't advise it," warns Lee. "These woods are a maze at the best of times; I wouldn't go wandering out there at night.
Gordon ambles over, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Who are these guys?" he asks, gesturing towards the black van.
A bunch of raving nutters, Brian is about to answer, but the excitable young lady in the back leans out and grins. "We're the Femmebots. We were on a road trip but it looks like we're stuck here with you guys now." She bats her eyelashes at Gordon. "We're planning on having a little shindig while we wait. You guys wanna join the fun?"
Rose and Lee grin at one another. "Well, you know what they say about furniture strippers - we're a bunch of party animals!" says Rose. Lee's already helping the Femmebots set up the sound system.
Brian and Gordon frown. "What about Victor?" says Gordon. "We can't just leave him out there, we really ought to go find him."
"Yeah," agrees Brian, "but you heard what Lee said about the woods......and besides, who'll look after the van?"
"Oh come on, admit it! You just wanna stay for the party!" teases Gordon.
"Yeah, well, it beats trudging through the woods at night," says Brian. "Come on, we'd better decide pronto what we're gonna do...."
****************************************
So what do Gordon and Brian do now? Set off into the woods to look for their drummer, or decide that Victor can look after himself and join in the party?
posted by Rachel at 1:32 PM
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