The Chapter in which things happen

Welcome to “The Chapter in which things happen.” On the north you will see the title “The Chapter in which things happen” and to the south you will see the next epic happenings in the story of Helen, Ben and co. 

That is unless you are reading this book in a language which requires you to read upwards instead of downwards (in which case, I love you more than the eternal shining of a billion stars, I want to marry you and I want to have seven children with you. Now. Come and give me a hug. [unless you are unable to give me a hug and want to ring me instead, in which case I love you, want to marry you and have eight children with you. Now. Give me a ring if you want to marry me. (That is unless you have no phone and communicate using little pigeons with messages tied to their feet, in which case, I love you more than love itself, I want to marry you and I want to have nine children with you. Now. So send me a pigeon. {That is unless your pigeon is preoccupied and flying in a race. In which case, I love you more than a thousand chocolate bars.. I want to marry you and have ten children with you. Now. } ) ] ) .

The group of assorted people, followed by a complex whale shark who can somehow live easily outside of the water without much need for food or anything else for survival, were walking along and around the fields of Somerset. You see, they could not get a taxi in the rare chance that in the taxi would be holding a driver who would recognise either the man baby or Ben, which would cause an unnecessary distraction from their travels. Thus they found some camels at a zoo which they stole, and invented a large round object, much the same shape as a tambourine, which they could use to make a cart and wheel it along. After a few hours on the road of sing songs and causing numerous accidents on the motorway, the six explorers reached the village in which lived Mr and Mrs Wrinkles. 

“Who wants to go speak to them?” Helen asked the other five.

“Shotgun not me!” Carver screamed, as if his life depended on it.

“Turn around touch the ground not it” Bobolous soon followed, turning around and touching the ground in the process.

“I would deteste to speak to the super centenarians to manipulate them in becoming shields to protect us from mystical forces. Their inconsistent ramblings about unnecessary chutneys and the stories that accompany them do not in the slightest interest me.” Biscuit said, with a purr,

“Aww you’re so silleh Bizzy!” Carver grinned, patting the cat on the forehead.

“Yes, quite.” Biscuit replied.

“Well I’m not doing this, nobody takes a man baby seriously.” The man baby chimed in.

“NOT ME BAGSY” Ben screeched.

“Damn my slow reactions.” Helen said, a few minutes later. “Why do I have to go in?! One of you guys do it.” Helen was met by a cold and stony silence. “Ugh. Fin, fine. I’ll do it, okay? But Ben, you’re coming with me.”

Helen grabbed Ben by the arm and they walked down the pathway to the highly bland and unexciting house.

For a second, we will zoom out, we will then travel south, south and further south until we can get no further south. We will now zoom back in. The presifrog was looking on in sheer delight at Le-Mon, who was draining the world of more pizzazz than before. “This is so fun!” Le-Mon shouted down to the now grey presifrog. 

“Yes. It is.” The presifrog replied, in an average tone of voice. “ Soon the world will be perfectly bland. As bland as the blandest thing ever to grace this earth. Mwahahaha.” The evil freoggy laugh was no longer loud and deep, it was of an average tone at an average degree of loudness. The presifrog was mildly indifferent to such the laugh. “I’m going to go dream of porridge, as it is now exactly nine in the evening. I will get eight hours sleep before awakening a five in the morning to make my exciting dream come true. I’m going to throw away the sugar. Porridge alone is eccentric enough.”

“YO PREZZY BABY LOOK AT ME TWIRL” Le-Mon was obviously enjoying the pizzazz, and was twirling around the pole waving his arms in the air.

The presifrog looked on in mild indifference, before settling down in the most average tent in the world. It was grey, of course.

Back in the lands of Somerset, Carver was trying to ignore the weird feelings in his buttocks. He wondered exactly what his doppelganger could be doing. “I wonder what my doppelganger could be doing.” Carver said out loud.

 “I wonder what he is like…” Bobolous said in a way that brings about thought.

“Well, what did you think of him?”

“What?”

“When he went to school instead of me those many months ago…”

“Oh!? THAT was Le-Mon? He was bland, boring. His eyes were far lass sexy th…” Boboolous turned red and melted a little. “So where were you then anyways?”

“It doesn’t matter.” Carver told Bobolous, turning slightly more yellow than normal. “It was during the full moon. That’s all you need to know.”

“And that night, Carver… when you refused to look me in the eyes. That was a full moon too. What happens to you at a full moon?” Bobolous was curious.

“I’ll tell you some other time, I want to watch Helen and Ben!”

“Okay.” Bobolous was unaware that as he was watching Helen and Ben, he himself was being watched from a distance. By the whale shark who often goes by the name of Sammy, Short for Samantha Hattie Irene Thompson.

Ben and Helen were arguing over who should knock on the door. You see, Ben has a very serious fear of knocking on doors as does Helen.

“I shotgunned!” Ben was arguing.

“but… BOODLE!” Helen countered, convincingly.

“Well I’m not knocking.” Ben rolled his eyes at the idea of touching a door.

“I’m not either.”

“Fine.”

“Good.”

“I’m glad we’re not knocking.”

“As am I.”

“Good.”

“Good indeed.”

“Yup.”

“Mmhm.”

“Oh for crying out loud!” The man baby sighed, before throwing a rock at the door to hopefully make a knocking sound before falling to the floor.

He threw it and it made a perfect knocking sound, falling gently to the floor. Mr. Wrinkles came to the door and welcomed the two strangers in. - That is what I would be saying if this was not an accurate biography of real events. The truth is, the door window smashed into tiny little pieces as the man baby threw a large and dirty rock directly through into the old people’s house.

“Oh DAMN!” The man baby cried. “why does this have to be an accurate and unfortunate biography of real evennnnnnnnnts?!”.

Helen and Ben froze in horror at the smashed glass within the house, to be greeted by an open door and a very angry Mr, Wrinkles. “WHAT are you hooligans doing? You scared me to death.”

Helen stood in stunned silence, as Ben panicked. “It was like that when we got here.” He was met by unconvinced eyes, “We are innocent carol singers. Erm… sing with me Helen”

“I don’t know any songs” she whispered, “Except the man baby song.”

“Man babies. I want your man babies. I want y…” Ben started.

“Shut up Ben, that won’t help.”

“Erm…. CHESSE. Cucumber…. Beetroot?” Ben was panicking, Helen becoming ever annoyed at his drastic and terrible attempts at saving himself from paying the bill.

The door closed and the old man went to walk back inside. Ben and Helen were slightly confused, but decided not to run, as that would be dishonest. Soon enough, the door opened to a smiling face on an old man.

“Oh hello! You must be the window repairwomen.” He stated, to Ben’s dismay. “This has been broken for as long as I can remember. Tsk. Young people these days. At least there are still good members of society like yourself. Do come in and we will talk about the window and my great great great grandchildren.

Helen and Ben grinned to each other because of the fortunate bad memory the old man possessed, before following him into the house.

The two sat down on some very bland seats, and were both handed mugs of warm tea. “How lovely! Ben said in thanks.

“So what brings you two here? Are you trying to convert me to something? Because if you are, I’m probably already converted. But talk to me anyway about these brownies you are selling for your girl scout fundraiser.” Mr Wrinkles said, obviously slightly confused about life.

“It would be nice if your wife was here so we could talk to her as well, if you may. We have a very interesting proposition.” Helen told the extremely old man.

“Okay then, she’s probably getting rid of the calluses on her feet again. Give me a few minutes.” The old man left Helen and Ben in the very outdated room.

“This is going to be hard.” Ben told Helen “I…”

“That’s what she said.” Helen interrupted.

“Oh ha ha, very funny Helen.”

“I know!” Helen stuck her tongue out.

“I’ll get you back for that!”

“How so?”

“Let’s play a game. Whoever can throw this ball of knitting wool closest to that priceless urn over there without breaking it wins the title of best person ever!”

“Haha. You’re ON!” Helen put her game face on, before throwing the ball of wool at the urn, knocking it and it’s contents over. “Well I didn’t see that coming.”

“I didn’t either.” Ben ran over to the smashed urn and threw it into a cupboard to hide it before Mr. Wrinkles was to get back with his wife, breaking other priceless antiques in the process.  “Oh. Dammit. Hah, Helen. We’re in deep shizzle.”

“Yeah but I win.”

“Do not.”

“Do so.”

The two then proceeded to start having a pillow fight and hitting over all of Mr and Mrs Wrinkles’s objects over in the process, before throwing them in even more cupboards.

The door then creaked open and Mr Wrinkles walked in, followed by Mrs Wrinkles who seemed to be very stiff and less warm than usual.

“Why we need more objects, dear. Our room looks so bare.”

“Ya” Mrs Wrinkles replied.

“These people say they have a proposition for us. You two, this is my wife, Mrs Wrinkles.”

“Nice to meet you!” Helen said cheerfully.

“Hey a/s/l?” The old lady asked to both Helen and Ben.

“Excuse us?” Ben asked.

“Hey bbz nice. Wanna cam?” The old lady replied.

Helen and Ben looked at each other, and sighed a deep sigh. The cambot had claimed it’s next victim at the worst possible time.