The famous five drove through the steadily darkening streets of the old town, ever watchful of the lengthening shadows and what might be hiding within. After a certain amount of confusion with regards to the date and time of the gig, it was all going smoothly. It had started months before when Mike was approached by a grizzled figure sporting a duelling scar down his left cheek: would the jolly little combo Midlife Crisis Ltd like to play at their motorcycle soiree that they held every year. There was promise of lashings of ginger beer and scrumpious munchies. How could Mike refuse, he seemed like a decent sort of chap, the type that one would like to engage in a few overs of cricket after a vigorous swim.
Mike arrived at the venue a few minutes before the others and had a swift look around. Could it really be here? The hall had obviously seen better days, the facade being slightly rundown and the paint peeling from the railings, it didn’t reassure Mike. Where was the ginger beer? The others rolled into the carpark after taking the scenic route, damn those new fangled sat nav things. Fuzz was an old fashioned guy who felt more at home in the analogue world. There was nothing that he liked better than to have an invigorating bike ride with only an ordinance survey map for company.
‘By jimminy jingo, is this the right place? ’, enquired big Martin, who got his nickname because he was, well, big.
‘I think it must be’ said Wolfie, Hawaian shirt, strangely absent from his attire. Were those leather trousers?
They went sheepishly into the building, the smell of fear and sweat was overwhealming, and as they came around the corner the sight that greeted them sent a shiver down their spines. It was horrible.
Who was that ugly and vile group of apparitions staring at them with malevelence?
‘Wait a moment’, said Andi. ‘that’s a mirror’. wow, what a mirror! They could admire themselves whilst they played. Wouldn’t that be spiffing, what a jolly jape.
‘I think we should cover it up with this handy banner that I just happen to have with me’, said Fuzz. ’My mom has ironed it specially’.
A darkened figure emerged from out of the gloom clutching what looked like a gun. The band tried to take cover and hide under the nearest objects they could find.
‘Would you like to use my rechargeable screwdriver to hang up your freshly ironed banner’, said the figure.
Phew! That was close.
After setting up all of the equipment, they were all getting extremely hungry.
‘I’m looking forward to all of these scrumpious munchies’, said Fuzz.’ I haven’t eaten anything for half an hour’.
‘We should be careful’, muttered Mike. ‘I’ve just seen something that looks like, well, a willy covered in tomato sauce. I’m not too sure I want to touch that!’.
‘Don’t be such a scaredy cat, I’m going to have that schnitzelly thing’, chirupped Andi.
There was still the matter of the ginger beer. Mike crept cautiously up to the bar, avoiding the penetraing gazes of the growing crowd.
‘ I say, my good man. My I have one of your delicious ginger beers, very refreshing and nutritious. The drink that pleases, but doesn’t inebriate’.
Damn, Mike had forgotten. He lived in Germany.
‘We should start’, said Wolfgang.
‘Noone will dance, anyway. I’ve been assured of that.’ said Mike gloomily.
But, Mike was proved wrong. The evening turned into a riproaring success, with all of the mean biker gang hopping and bopping to sounds of the beat combo. Another close call for the famous five.
It hadn’t been bad at all,
They packed up all of their stuff with a lightness and spring in their step. They would definately come back. There was only one thing missing………..no ginger beer!
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