Orion's Testicle

Chapter 22 - The Mission

Chapter - The Mission

Preparations were underway. Anna had been given a guitar and was playing it furiously, trying to prepare herself. Megan was comforting Em who seemed to be getting more then a bit of nerves about the whole ordeal. Scottle was in a separate room of his own, which the gang found very confusing, and even more confusing when they heard raised voices poised in argument.
Patrick was having a shave.
Whalley was working furiously to get it all together, he hadn’t expected that he’d plan an entire project in a day, make it and have it ready for the evening. He started to get very angry with himself, which quickly turned to depression. Still, no matter how bad he felt he promised himself he’d do it, he had to. The world was getting worse by day, and if he didn’t do it now it would never be done.
It was almost as if the mood was contagious, as soon after he started to get down Anna began to get frustrated to the point she snapped a string, which then made her even more vexed when she had to spend an hour of her practice time finding a new one and retuning it.
Megan was having a hard time too, as she was trying so hard to give Em the confidence she needed, yet Meg herself was just as worried, so far as that she had actually gnawed her fingernails flat.
Patrick had stubbed his toe on some stairs, which he found intensely stressful.
Scottle was completely out of his mind. His new other half hadn’t shut up since they had arrived here, but was now complaining that Scottle had stopped getting off with Anna to come in here and argue with it.
“Honestly, it’s just disgusting. Hell, she could even do with a kiss and a cuddle right now.”
“Well, if I did that then she’d screw up her practice, and if that happens it’s all gone kablammo! There are bigger things going on then sex and fun at the moment!”
“Yeah, bigger bad things. I’m not one to focus on the negative. Just grab Anna and get out of here.”
“We can’t do that. We made a bargain, and I aim to keep it. Just shut up and go away.”
Scottle shook his head until he felt so dizzy he fainted. To him it was the best tactic to make the voice go away.
Morning faded into lunchtime‘s grasp., Time caused Lunchtime to metamorphose into afternoon. This being almost central London afternoon decided to forget about going to evening and went pitch black into night.
By this time, the entire gang’s nails had been trimmed by Meg’s worried biting. This was strange, as none of the gang remembered her being near enough to do it.
Anna had managed to get herself sorted and her guitar tuned perfectly.
Em had managed to gather up some nerves, which in itself was a remarkable feat, but especially since she’d be performing to 6 and a half billion people.
Scottle came out feeling rather sick and unhappy.
Anna was a bit worried for him, but she really did have other things to do.
It was after an uncomfortable and nervous hour of almost complete silence that Whalley knocked on the door.
“Friends, the time is at hand.” He said in a fantasy tone.
“Which hand? I assume your talking about a clock hand. Is it 9 o’clock?”.
“It is time for you to play.”
Patrick couldn’t resist the opportunity to be pedantic.
“Play what? Backgammon?
“It is time, my dear Patrick..” Anna said in a mock fantasy tone, “that you shut up.”
Patrick made a rude hand gesture behind Anna’s back as they followed Whalley out of the room. He led them through seemingly endless corridors and winding passages, unimaginably high stairs and down unimaginable descents. They then came to the exact room as before, and Whalley walked back in, muttering something about taking the right door next time. They walked into the room again and out through another door, directly onto the Rock stone Stage.
Patrick made for the drum kit which Whalley’s “cronies” has set up for him, but was stopped by Anna.
“Hold Still ….” She said.
Anna slapped his glasses off, which fell deep into a crevice in the rock, into the deep abyss below.
“What the hell was that for?” Patrick complained, whilst performing a ground breaking drum solo unconsciously.
So it came to be that they were finally ready.
Everyone was poised like a proud warrior, moments before a battle to the death. Every nerve cell in their bodies was primed like an explosive ready to be detonated, by each members steadfast concentration.
All the courage they had was spent on this one moment, the deciding factor of a planets fate. The planet would be lost to depression if they failed.
Whalley’s voice boomed like a battle leader.
“Sorry, folks… I, erm…need a piss.”
Such inspiring words caused a racous reply from the gang (except Patrick).
“Oh, guitar, me too.”
So they left the stage like leaves leave the trees in autumn. Wobbling slightly.
After a second or two, Patrick go very bored and pulled a marker pen from his pocket.
He decided it would be really funny if he drew immense phalluses on each instrument.
Patrick’s drawing skills were very similar to his literacy ability. So it was rather coincidental, yet magically convenient happening that he unknowingly inscribed the universes most powerful runic symbols.
Magic, is as many people would (or at least should) agree a thing that doesn’t exist on earth. Usually, this is entirely true.
In a not so obvious relation, a keen reader (meaning any reader with eyes) will have noticed that Orionans seem to have exactly the same spoken language as the human race. However, the alphabet is actually slightly different. In Orionan, ‘u’ for umbrella would be written as the earth ‘a’ for aardvark. In addition, the Orionan ‘s’ is an earth ‘g’. This has very little relevance on the whole, but it does mean a rather nice coincidence.
Orionan music is very much earth magic.
But we have all established in our minds (either through drunken practice or heated argument) that waving a stick around does not make a beautiful princess out of a frog.
But perhaps if we look at some of the wonders of the world, and all of it’s happenings and goings, you will see quite differently. If we look at the awesome splendour of the horse head nebula and the destructive power of a black hole.
If we look at the way life, the world around, how entire ecosystems have evolved from a small carbon smear which we would look at unpleasantly if now we found it on our boots.
If we were to experience the brilliant pleasure of eating hot cross buns whilst writing a story, we may, just may, discover some magic.
A second theory is held on Orion, at FULELB, that anyone who would openly deny the existence of magic must be :-

a) spent too little time outside

b) a spoilsport

Or c) expects too much of things.

Type C makes up a large portion of the earths population, the remainder being children under ten.
If Type C were on that stage with Patrick right now the existence of magic would be made quite obvious by the instruments glowing a mysterious golden yellow. Patrick also swore he could hear the sound of bacon sizzling. He squinted at the instruments, with a puzzled look. He could see crochets and quavers and minims shimmering out of the instruments and dissipating in the atmosphere.
The gang had immediately regretted leaving Patrick on his own for a few seconds, and stumbled back into the stage. Megan ran towards Patrick, making the sound of a pessimistic whale.
“Nooooooooooo!”
Anna and Scottle (holding hands- not as a couple would do, they’d got their wristbands stuck together whilst arm-wrestling, but decided it would be easier to keep up appearances) looked upon the instruments with disbelief.
Patrick, naturally, was trying to run out of the room, but was clothes-lined by Whalley as he threw his hands to his head.
“Blackbeards Eye patch!” Whalley cried. “Fretting incredible.”
There was a pause, which Patrick broke by moaning in pain.
“Oh…we’d better get this going people! Whalley said, quickly gathering his former inspirational voice.
“Positions! We’re running out of time!”
He was right, too. His technicians brilliantly devised scheme (which would actually work, the Arthur reveals) of global projection required a massive amount of power to run efficiently, and all Whalley had was several 240V power sockets he had crudely modified. They were hooked up to an immense amount of mirrors, that seemed to be constructed so that they pointed in every conceivable direction, and even some directions that made Anna’s mind hurt when she looked at them.
When she asked how the thing worked, one of the technicians tried to explain to her. After about a minute Anna almost fell into a coma, so the technician merely gave her his assurance it would work.
“Whalley announced that they would be on air, in about ten seconds.
The mirror shone onto them, and their instruments’ cables led into the depths of the cave somewhere.
They must be using the caves to amplify the sound.
The lights shot up straight against the night sky like an icy herring against Anna’s face. Each droplet of the clouds reflected each ray of light a thousand times, relaying an image across the entire world of Anna and the gang looking very confused. The sheer physics of it was mind boggling. The magnificence something else.
With three seconds to go, Anna pooled all of her concentration.

With a single second to go, the whole thing fizzled out and was replaced by a man’s rectum.


This left the gang even more confused.
A TV was switched on in the corner to see if the circuitry was offline.
A Newsflash came on BBC1.
“People of Great Britain, we interrupt ‘aubergine omnibus’ to bring you a very special announcement. The UFO from Tuesday has returned. And is parked several hundred miles above Asia. The imagery has returned. And all wireless communications are down.
For God’s sake, people. Don’t look up.”
The television went off, as 6 billion people looked up.





















THE END





Just kidding. It would be silly to leave it there.
The reaction in Anna from seeing this rectum was of pain, confusion and awe.
Seconds after followed the feeling, that, try as she might to deny it, they had failed.