TALES OF A SHY YETI

THE TALE OF THE DIAMOND STUDDED PIE - PART 6

2005-12-16T08:27:00.000-08:00

Shy thought quickly – there was only one thing for it…

Taking a very large breath Shy opened his mouth and gulped. With an almighty PLOP he swallowed the Diamond Studded Pie. “You may have blown up my friends…” he remarked crisply. “But you won’t blow up this Motherfurking Yeti!” Just to be sure Shy removed all the other pielets from his ears, head, arm pits and various other furry orifices – the fake and the genuine and he swallowed those too. Ed Alexander watched agog. “What do you think of that, buggerlugs?” he grinned triumphantly.

“You’ll still be blown up…” said Ed, beginning to back off. “All you’ve done is muffled the blow – which is good for me – but won’t stop your insides being spread to the high heavens…”

Shy smiled again. “I don’t think so, you know… My stomach is pretty impressive – it’d take a lot more than a few little bombs to blow something as tough as that up…” he gave a sudden loud belch. “Ohh… Nasty… One of the smaller pielets I think… Acidy – but I’m ok - still standing I think you’ll find…” he burped again. “Oh! Unpleasant – yet inevitable…” A pause. Another burp and another.

“Keep them coming…” sighed Shy. “I’m sorry…” he paused. “How greedy of me – I should have shared… Maybe you’d like a pielet…” he took one last pielet from his fur. “Maybe you’d like a quick snack?” Shy took a step towards Ed. “Well? It’d be impolite not to accept… Open wide…”

Edward backed off – but walked straight into the wall – there was nowhere else to run…

Meanwhile, back downstairs Kim was trying to find a way out. The Pavilion was full of Police by now – but she hadn’t made her presence known. She’d lost track of where Ed was and was keen not to run into any of the Police gangs armed with tear gas. So far, they’d only managed to round up Hunt and the other security guards – though she knew that at least one, if not more of the thieves had already left the building and had probably been blown up, somewhere in the grounds. “This reminds me of my time in the Girl Guides!” she sighed and shuddered at the thought of how awful the uniform had been.

Kim sighed and took a quick look at her reflection in a mirror – she hated having to dress like this and brushing a layer of dust off her glamorous Security outfit she quickly removed her piercings and goth wig and slipped into something more casual. She felt a lot more at home in saggy tracksuit bottoms, horn-rimmed, thick lensed glasses that seemed to almost entirely swallow her formerly attractive green eyes. Popping on her favourite strait jacket and a dowdy bobble hat concealing her dirty blonde hair beneath. She was ready to go. It was her usual weekend wear and she felt much better for having changed. Briefcase in hand she took a lighter from her pocket and in less than 30 seconds had made herself a handy Molotov cocktail, setting fire to all the curtains in the lower gallery room. Throwing another across the room it exploded against the wall and began to burn. It was diversion enough for her to get away unseen… The brief case was heavy and she really couldn’t risk getting caught…

Back upstairs on the balcony, Shy was cross that Ed wasn’t cowering more. As much as he wanted to push the pielet down the man’s throat he was in danger of them both blowing up should this last pie be one of the boobie-trapped ones – it wasn’t worth waiting to see just to get an apology. “I thought you were going to share your pielets…” Ed taunted unexpectedly. “Or have you had second thoughts?”

Shy pushed Ed to the patio and instead swallowed the pielet himself. “No second thoughts – I’m just rather selfish…” he declared and then burped – just in time as the eighth and final pielet, along with a couple of others already inside his stomach did their explosive business. “Ah – nearly done now!” he smiled, beginning to feel a little worse for wear. “I’m coping rather well!” There came two more small explosions and the second one sent him staggering backwards – over on his furry behind and then one last rumble which knocked him back upright again. Before Ed could react Shy was upon him; pinning him to the ground. “You called me Yeti earlier – you know who I am then! You know why I’m here!”

He’d expected to see some fear in his eyes, but Ed Alexander remained quite composed. “Of course! I must say I’m not quite sure why you teamed up with those other two losers, very generous, but you’re more talented than either of them! It’s a shame they’ve dragged you down to their level… I respect your historical motives, Yeti – it’s a bit like a family reunion – you almost deserve to keep them!”

Anger burnt in Shy’s eyes and for a moment he could barely speak. “You’re a slick tongued grandson of a mayor aren’t you… But I’m a useless criminal and I know it! I’ve gotten my two friends involved in all this just because I had some stupid fantasy that I wanted to be Bonnie and Clyde and now I… Well, no – to be fair – YOU have gone and killed them! You’re as much the criminal as me! Actually, no – you’re the only real criminal here – you’re pretty much a psychopath!” Ed Alexander continued to stare back at him – apparently oblivious to the large weight of Yeti resting on him. “Should I hand you over to the law, strap you to an explosive or swallow you whole and see how much you like that?”

“I’d never fit inside your stomach – not even with the size of your belly!”

“You wanna try me?” Shy’s paws were tightening around Ed’s neck. “I’m sure I could find room for you – or if I can’t then I’m sure I could take a fair few bites and then keep the rest for later!” By now, Ed’s composure was slipping a little – he had to make this sound good – the Police were close now. “YOU KILLED MY FRIENDS…” Shy said dispassionately. “NOW I KILL YOU!” With that he picked Ed up and held him above his mouth, but to Shy’s dismay Ed was still smiling and Shy thought he was going to have to try and eat the man when suddenly Ed having seen Shy’s sharp teeth in the moonlight and with one final choking laugh he passed out. “Now I know how David Banner feels…” muttered Shy. “Boy, did he make me mad – if I was the Hulk I’d be a bright shade of green by now…” Throwing Ed’s limp body over his shoulder he stared out across the gardens in search of some sign of his friends, but there was none. “I’m not finished with you…” Shy decided – intent on getting some declaration of guilt from the man before he left Brighton. Hopping over the balcony wall, he dropped clumsily from hanging basket to basket and hurried across the garden in search of Ceri and Becky.

“Where are you going…” called a voice. “If you go that way you’re bound to get arrested…”

Shy turned – hoping for a second it was Becky, but it was Kim Travers. “Don’t try and stop me leaving here!” he growled. “I’m a Yeti in a very bad mood and I’d advise you not to mess with me…”

Kim said nothing. Smoke floated across the lawn as all around them Police and Firemen ran around in total confusion. “I’m really not your enemy!” she said and Shy noticed that she looked quite different than before. “Okay – I’m sure you’re aware that I’ve worked with Ed – but I’m far from being in league with him… If you’d been listening you’d have heard me trying to offer you help outta here!”

Shy was confused. “But you were in the Pavilion, the bombs, my friends – your boss killed them!”

“I very much doubt that!” reassured Kim. “The explosives were dummies… They make a lot of noise and smoke but they don’t kill! I swapped all the real ones that Ed set up!” Shy looked disappointed and Kim had noticed. “Hey, what’s up with you – what exactly did you do with the pies you stole?”

“They’re in my stomach…” Shy replied. “I kind of thought I’d been all heroic by swallowing them…”

“The fact you thought they were real bombs and you did that makes you pretty special, Shy…” Kim replied. “Listen, at least you’re safe and haven’t got your guts scattered from one side of the garden to the other! You’ll just have to be a bit careful when you pass the Pies, sweetie! Although… Well, you’ll see… You didn’t think your stomach could withstand real explosions did you? Still – you’re pretty hardy – even dummy explosives will give you a bad case of indigestion and you seem fine, so far…” Kim paused and took a quick look at the unconscious Ed flopped out over Shy’s shoulder. “Listen, would you like to come with me? Bring the hostages – I haven’t even started with him yet!”

“My pleasure…” nodded Shy, trying not to inhale the smoke which still wafted across the gardens. “I don’t understand at all, mind! But you do seem to be the only friendly person out here tonight!”

“Pretty much!” she agreed. “Anyway, you’re not meant to understand! Just follow me furry chops!”

Kim had promised to lead him to safety and sure enough she did just that…

Sometime later, at the end of Brighton Pier – Kim having picked the lock so they could gain access – the Pier having closed some while before. Stopping only long enough for Shy to break into the Dr Who Exhibition and set up a special Yeti display they reconvened at the very end of the mile long Pier – just long enough to tie Edward Alexander upside down and to dangle him into the sea covered in fish bait. “What are you trying to catch, Kim?” asked Shy as they dunked Edward into the murky waters for another few minutes. “Shall we speak to him yet, Miss Travers or leave him awhile?”

“Leave him awhile…” replied Kim. “You do know that my name isn’t Kim or Travers don’t you?”
“Well no… I hadn’t thought much about it – I hardly know you – we only seem to have been joined in a common goal rather unexpectedly this evening… What is your name then?”

“I couldn’t possibly say…” replied Kim cryptically. “If I told you I’d have to kill myself…”

“Oh… Right… Interested twist there…” nodded Shy earnestly. “So… What now… Are we dipping Alexander into the sea to make him beg our forgiveness – so he won’t turn us into the Police…”

“No dear!” smiled Kim. “He wouldn’t dare – we’re only doing this for a bit of fun because he deserves it… Believe me - he deserves it… He’s pissed off a fair few people over the years… Just think of me as one of those nutjobs that escapes from an asylum to seek to avenge his crimes! I also have a total crush on furry ex librarian Yeti’s – though I know I have no chance with you whatsoever!”

“Oh right… Okay… Well, I’m very flattered…” Shy replied, still trying to catch up with all this new information. It had been a long night. “I presume you’re referring to something other than his antics tonight…” Kim nodded. “…but you couldn’t possibly tell me because you’d have to kill yourself…”

“No… I’d have to kill my family…” she explained, cosying up to a rather perplexed looking Shy. “Golly Yeti – you’re so nice and warm – I wish I could keep you as a pet…” She took off her bobble hat for a second and ruffled her dusty blonde hair against his fur. “Or maybe I could be your pet?”

“Oh well!” Shy paused and looked embarrassed. “I do sometimes take on people as sidekicks, but in your case you seem to have your own plans and missions – you’re very independent and it suits you!” he added, just to make sure she knew he respected her. “By the way, may I just say how good you were earlier – at picking the lock and changing the explosives and… I won’t even ask what you’ve got in that brief case or you’ll just have to go and kill all your pets or the postman or something…”

Kim grinned and flipped open the case. “Nah… Quite happy to show you what I’ve got… It’s actually for you…” Inside the brief case was The Diamond Studded Pies and the eight pielets. “I’ve been keeping them safe for you… Don’t worry – I’ve taken a few trinkets for myself…”

“These are the REAL Pies?” Shy asked – dumbstruck. “But what about the ones of display? Fakes?” she nodded. “But… That means I was about to replace fake pies with more fake pies and – I could have just thrown them all over the balcony rather than swallowing them to make sure I still had them!”

“Yeah, pretty much – but you weren’t to know that were you?” It was a fair point. “There’s something else in the case for you… All the surveillance tapes from the extra cameras that Eddie had set up… I don’t suppose any of you knew about those – but they were there… Anyway – they don’t exist any more so you needn’t worry… Just don’t tell anyone about the fire I started! There was some evidence of my own involvement I needed to get rid of too – so it’s not just me being all kind hearted!”

By now Shy was feeling quite taken aback and all he could say was. “Shall I check on Alexander? Make sure he’s not escaped?” Kim smiled and nodded and so with all his might he pulled the rather damp and unhappy looking (but now conscious) ex-detective up from where he’d hung, some few inches above the water below. “How’s he looking?” Shy asked Kim. “Has he learnt his lesson?”

“Unfortunately, I rather doubt it…” sighed Kim. “I think you’d better leave me too it, Shy… I’ve got some scores to settle and a few words I need to say to him in private…”

Eddie Alexander was looking panicked now. “No! No – please don’t leave me! I don’t deserve this! She’s insane… She’ll kill me, do you hear Shy… She’ll murder me in c,c,cold b,b,blood…”

“Will you really?” Shy turned to Kim – but Kim wasn’t giving anything away. “I’m sorry Ed – but if it hadn’t have been for Kim then both my friends and my stomach would have been blown away by your explosives!” Ed didn’t realise what he meant at first – and it occurred to Shy that he still thought he’d killed them and that Shy had actually swallowed the real explosives. “It was a lucky escape we had there – thanks to Kim! Who am I to deny her, her pleasures? I can’t dictate to this young lady what she does and doesn’t do and quite frankly I have no interest nor incentive to try and free you from your bonds… I’m heading off now to find my friends and I’ll leave Kim to do whatever she has to…”

“No! NOOOO!” Edward was obviously very distraught – but Shy was finding the sound of his voice extremely irritating. He tore a strip off his jacket and quickly tied it around Edward Alexander’s mouth. “They we go… A handy and stylish gag to keep him quiet whilst you lecture him, Kim…”

Kim smiled and broad and generous grin. “Thank you so much, Shy… It’s been most pleasant meeting you – I do hope we bump into each other in less challenging an environment next time…”

“Me too…” Shy replied and shook her hand warmly. “Have fun with Mr Alexander… Dunk him under just once or twice more for me, won’t you… Long dunks, mind… At least a minute each!”

“Oh I shall…” nodded Kim and trifle too enthusiastically and Shy took this as a good point to make his departure. He was beginning to think that Kim really was as insane as her strait jacket implied. “Take care furry man…” she called as he took the brief case that she’d brought for him and began to make his way back down the pier to the beach. “Good luck with passing those pies…”

“I’ll need it…” Shy muttered to himself, already beginning to feel a little uncomfortable and silly for having swallowed all the fake pies – giving Kim a parting way as he headed on his way.

Having bid farewell to Kim, he found himself a 24 hour café to sit in and watched as things calmed down around the Pavilions. The fire seemed to be out and the Police passed him by in the street at least twice on his way to an early morning chemist and never stopped to even ask for his autograph. Having chewed on a rather large Rennie for a couple of hours and having finally got all the fake Diamond Pies out of his system it was with rather less surprise than they expected that he found both Ceri and Becky looking very weary and slightly dishevelled, sitting on the stones by the West Pier at just after dawn that day. “You’re alive then… Thank Furs for that!” was all he could think of to say.

“We’re doing okay…” grinned Becky. “Got caught in the blast and covered in earth – but nothing that won’t come out in the wash… Glad to see you got out okay – we didn’t know what to do…”

“Cheers! I was a bit worried for all of us for a while there – but you did the right thing!” Shy admitted and explained how he’d witnessed the explosions and only just managed to get out of the building.

“They weren’t real bombs – probably dummies I reckon…” explained Ceri and Shy nodded. He didn’t bother to tell them much of Kim’s story in the end. He told them how he’d swallowed the pies and confronted Alexander – pointed out where Eddie was now safely secured from the bungy rope but said nothing about it being Kim’s idea. “So you’ve got the pies?” asked Ceri. “That’s marvellous…”

Shy could have been gloaty about it, but knowing that Kim had a been a large part of his success what with the cameras being fixed and Ed being dangled he didn’t want to overdo his part in the victory – if you could call it that. Something about the whole evening still felt a bit of a shambles. “Shall we just sit here and watch Ed Alexander bounce up and down from the rope until the Police arrest him?” he suggested. Then go for some breakfast?” Becky was still uncertain about whether the ex-copper had any evidence on them. “Don’t worry!” Shy explained. “I had a word with him - I’m pretty certain he won’t say anything… There’s no proof we were ever at the Pavilion – I errr – I made sure of it… We pretty much got all we came for – well I did and if you want you can take the pielets for your display!”

“You don’t want them after all that!?” exclaimed Becky indignantly.

“Not really… I did think about giving them to my fortune telling friend Fatima the Fantabulous, she’s the nearest I have to family these days – but on the other hand I’d be just as happy if you had them…”

Shy knew full well that Ceri and Becky weren’t exactly going to be raring to invite him back for another case so he decided to step in and end any possible uncertainty. “I must say…” he continued. “It’s been good fun all this – one way or another – but I don’t think I’d want to do it again…”

Shy noticed that Becky visibly brightened on hearing that, but wasn’t offended. Having left the beach, they had managed to shower and change in local facilities and were eating brunch at the Regency tearooms. “You’ll be missed – but it’s nice we can discuss stuff with you now…” she smiled. “I we must definitely arrange for you to come and see the Cave display once the shelves are up…”

“I’d like that…” nodded Shy affectionately. “I like your t-shirts by the way…” he continued, totally changing the subject as a very unsubtle way of hinting how kind he’d been at lending his dischevelled friends a spare shirt or two. Ceri grinned as he tucked into his breakfast. His was yellow with red lettering which declared “THE GOODIES” on one side and “…ANYWHERE, ANYTIME…” on the back. “It’s very you – I was going to give it to you for your birthday – but you’d better have it earlier! That said, I’d be careful who reads the bit on the back or you might get mobbed!” Shy laughed.

“Yours is very understated…” Ceri acknowledged. Shy’s t-shirt just read “SLAPPER” on one side and “STUD” on the other. “Depends on your mood I suppose…”

“Most definitely…” Shy agreed. “I like Becky’s t-shirt best – I gave it her especially... It’s from Simon’s World Tour of Swindon 1979 and quite a collectors piece – it’s from the first Yeti stage tour of Grease! I etched all the programmes out personally using the juice of 100 tins of Noodle Doodles!”

Becky smiled widely – she seemed quite attached to Shy’s gift. “On one side there was a photo of Simon Yeti in some kind of disco outfit printed on a mauve t-shirt and on the back the words “YETI – YOU’RE THE ONE THAT I WANT…” were displayed in a fetching crème lettering. “I like it very much…” she nodded. “I wish I’d seen that production – I’m sure it would have been marvellous!”

“Oh it was…” Shy smiled. “Simon was the Olivia Newton John role and Windsor Davies did the John Travolta part – inspired casting by me, even if I do say so myself…”

“Unforgettable…” agreed Ceri. “Now listen here - even though we lost most of the stuff we took from the Pavilions we do have SOME good news – something to add of our own…” he explained, reaching for a file that seemed to contain a lot of interesting documentation. “We came back to the Regency Hotel and found our way into Eddie’s room – I think you’ll find it all quite fascinating… We’ll be keeping the list of stolen material and there are invoices and letters and allsorts that seems to infer he had selling his silence to criminals in exchange for evidence of their crimes going missing or being destroyed. That and it would seem that he rather liked to buy cut price goods to give to family and loved ones at Christmas…” Shy shook his head in wonder. “There are a few corrupt people we might well be paying visits to – so that all these valuables are at least in semi-honest hands!”

“So you did hit paydirt!” grinned Shy. “I’m so glad. So – what else are you planning after this?”

Ceri wasn’t sure what to say, but Becky had a definite opinion. “We’re going to have to look into some competitors… Someone is attempting to move onto our patch – not Raffles types like us but a couple of Super villains who have been getting in the way…” Shy raised an eyebrow. “I know it sounds mad – but they are out there… These ones are rather ludicrously known as Percy – Lord of Rock and he has a sidekick who calls himself James Destiny – Hive Master… Just don’t ask!”

Shy pulled an exasperated face. “What about Super Heroes?” he said. “Surely for every Super Villain there’s a Super Hero – won’t that cause you bother? In case they decide you’re causing bother too?”

“Exactly why we’re worried…” explained Ceri reluctantly. “There are also two Super Heroes called Christanos and Mole Boy who are already in on the action… They’re getting dangerously close to our neck of the woods – it could make things difficult for all of us more old fashioned thieves…”

“Just remember…” Shy began. “That for enough money I might even be lured out of retirement to help you, should it come to that! I do have my very own special Super powers after all!” Shy paused – his powers seemed to have thankfully returned now and Shy had even managed to avoid mentioning to his friends that he’d nearly jeopardised everything by having lost them before. “Just a minute…” he said suddenly. “Didn’t you say there was something I might be interested in, in those files?”

Becky took a ring bound document from the file and handed it over. “Take a look! There are loads of references to Simon in it! Apparently one of the criminals Ed mixed with had showbiz connections and was flogging some of Simon’s old awards!” Shy nodded sadly – Shy’s accountants had ripped off his estate after his disappearance. “It also says that the dealer claimed to be selling Simon’s time travel device, with references to your mate Danbear having made bids for items listed on the catalogue as being – ahead of their time, let’s say!” Shy took the folder and flicked through it. “There’s mention of items of future technology crash landing near Oxford! You might want to take a look!”

Shy nodded. “My friend Dean lives up near there – nice fella – bit cheeky – maybe he can put me up! I should ring Joolz too!” Ceri and Becky nodded vaguely, Shy had found a group photo of himself with Danbear . “How very odd… I don’t remember this being taken…” he said. “Or who on earth took it!”

“Listen!” Ceri said, interrupting his thoughts as they finished their breakfasts. “If you need dropping off in Oxford we’ll give you a lift – are you going to call this Dean guy and see if he can put you up?”

“Just did - telepathically!” Ceri winced instinctively, Shy just grinned. “Are you sure I can’t drive?”

“No!” snapped Bex. “Really, no thanks! Not even your Super Yeti powers can make us agree to that!”

“Really?” Shy chuckled. “Fair play, though I’d never resort to that… You could do me one favour though…” Ceri looked curious, Becky slightly alarmed. “Oh, it’s perfectly safe…” he assured them. “I just wanted to keep hold of the pies for a while – I’ll give them back, but I do think it would be nice to let Fatima have them for a bit… She lost a lot of possessions in a landslide when a giant moved in next door – she thinks it was probably the actual giant from Jack and the beanstalk! Those shiny Diamond Studded Pies would be just perfect in her vegetable patch – glinting away to scare away the crows…”

“Now who’s making things up…” muttered Becky. “He’s getting his own back…”

Shy was rather indignant. “Becky – I can assure you that it’s most definitely the truth…” he assured them with a laugh – and then paused thoughtfully as they headed from the tearooms to their car. “Although isn’t it funny how everyone has a different version of what the truth really is, darlings…”

Ceri smiled. It hadn’t been such a bad adventure after all. Shy was squatting down on his haunches, admiring his appearance in the side door mirror. “Look at you…” he laughed, pleased that Shy brighter again. “You’re so vain these days, you’re getting more and more like Simon everyday…”

Shy shivered – Ceri had made a good point. “It’s almost as if he’s taken me over – like some sort of possession – ever since I hit my head!” Could it be true? Shy was quiet almost all the way to Oxford. The thought haunted him. Could it be possible? Was he somehow becoming the spitting image of his old mentor – and if so – where exactly did the future lie? He suddenly had a very nasty image of Kim Travers in her strait jacket. “That will never happen…” he assured himself. “I would rather die first…”

EPILOGUE

Ed Alexander was arrested that day for the theft of valuable from Brighton Pavilion and also charged with arson, causing malicious damage to a historical building and illegal bungy jumping off Brighton Pier. When questioned he told police stories of thieving Yetis and criminal librarians – of Goths who wore strait jackets and of love for Wonder Woman and how his mother ruled his life with her infernal budgies. “I’m very sorry…” Sighed Dr Mex Nephur – the tall and rather curiously handsome Mexican medic who’d been brought him to give a statement on his state of mind. “But none or very little of any of this makes any sense at all… There’s no sign of anyone matching his descriptions and the force said he never had a female colleague that he was working with at the time of his dismissal. I don’t know what to say really… I’m afraid he might be severely disturbed! He was found trying to write a poison pen letter to someone this morning – all it said was YOUR HISTORY, spelt wrongly – he’d chopped up today’s copy of The Daily Rag and was attempting to stick it to the page with Marmite… He was very cross when the letter was taken away – he told me his time would come… Most disturbing!””

“So would you definitely say he was mad?” asked the officer in charge. “Next you’re going to tell me that his mother’s been dead twenty years and that in fact he lives on his own…”

“Not quite…” replied Dr Nephur. “He does live with his mother – but she claims they haven’t kept Budgerigars for about fifteen years… Oh – and one other thing… The colleague he mentioned – you said her name was Kim didn’t you? Kim Travers?” The office in charge nodded. “Very interesting…” sighed Mex dubiously. “Because according to his mother, her son was a very inventive child – he used to claim he had a twin brother named Henry and what is more he had an invisible friend… You won’t believe it – but apparently the name of the invisible friend was – most intriguingly – Kim Travers…”

THIS IS THE LAST STORY TO BE POSTED IN 2005 - THE NEXT ADVENTURE WILL BE POSTED IN SPRING 2006 - SO WATCH THIS SPACE!!

HAPPY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR READERS!!!

THE TALE OF THE DIAMOND STUDDED PIE - PART 5

2005-12-09T04:11:00.000-08:00

Ceri looked at his watch and then down at his Palm-pilot which had up on the screen a small plan of the electricity and alarm systems in the Pavilion. “What’s keeping him – the alarms are still on - it’s after seven – he was supposed to let us in by now…” he grumbled – looking very uncomfortable, as he and Becky lurked outside in the Pavilion Gardens. “Come on Shy – get your act together…”

“Yeah, well don’t hope for too many miracles, honey…” replied Becky, somewhat unhelpfully. “After all, remind me who it was who thought it was such a good idea to have the Yeti let us in, in the first place… Why not me… Why not you… Why not someone who’d done it before – it made no sense…”

Ceri blushed. “Are you saying he did one of his stares at me… Dammit! He did, didn’t he…”

Becky gave him a gentle hug. “Don’t worry hon. Not only you to you – he got through me too! Well, let’s just sit back and wait and see what happens… This is his show – let’s see how he deals with it…”

Ceri wasn’t so sure he could remain so distant. “We have to help him… If something goes wrong…”

“You’re optimistic!” Becky sighed. “Look, we’ll do what we can – but he’s deliberately over-ruled us here! If he’s careful and if we’re clever we’ll pull this off! But if he does something REALLY, I mean REALLY, REALLY stupid then I dunno! I’m not sure if we can help him if he gets himself arrested!”

“No, don’t even think it, Becks… Let’s leave some hope aside that he’s going to be okay…”

“Well, we’re not turning ourselves in… Not because of this… It’s bad enough that some stupid ex-copper’s after us – let alone throwing it all away for that fool of a Yeti… I’m sorry – but NO!”

“Of course not!” Ceri paused crossly – something was happening on the Palm-Pilot screen. “Hey! Do you see that – the power on all the internal alarms has dropped right back – it’s gone to neutral - he’s done it! We should just be able to trip the lock and get right into the Music Room and out again before anyone’s even noticed… Leaving the door for his furriness to follow us out once he’s finished…”

“Wonders will never cease…” smiled Becky and nodded – indicating where they needed to go next.

Watching them from one of the windows was Kim Travers. “Make sure they get in, Kim… Most probably one of them will smuggle their way in during the day… Whichever one it is - we’ll get them!” Edward Alexander had ordered her. “However, they’ll be expecting their companion to let them in, most probably and if we want to catch the lot of them we’ve got to make them think the plan is working and nab them at the very last minute – red handed… So make sure you switch off the alarms – to make them think things are all going well… Do you understand!” Kim Travers was no fool…

“Oh well…” Kim sighed as she watched Ceri and Becky breaking into the Music Room on the floor below her. “They’re in now, alright… You’ve getting everything you deserved… All of you…”

Meanwhile, downstairs, the couple were already overly curious about how easy things seemed to be coming together. “Shall we start removing things? Shall I try and find the safe?” Ceri whispered to Bex. “I know we had specific things in mind – but I’m beginning to feel a bit edgy about this already!”

“You and me both, hon…” Becky agreed. “Listen – pretty much all the stuff here belonged to that crook Fulton – I’ve read all up on him… Nasty piece of work… If he wasn’t stealing it from Yetis, he was blackmailing closeted gay couples who were trying to settle down here or swindling business men… Most of this stuff is stolen or replica one way or another… Just grab what you can get…”

“What about you? Where are you going?”

“Just to check on the Yeti! Hurry up, just get a bag or two and then go for the car – I won’t be a mo!”

“But Becky!!” There was no use shouting though, she was already gone and there was no stopping a Becky with a mission in mind. “Take care, won’t you…” he muttered – as much to himself as to Bex.
Ceri reached out gently – resting his hand upon a carriage clock that had once belonged (he’d checked) to Miss Isle of Wight 1902. No alarms… With a reassured deep breath of relief he placed the clock at the bottom of his rucksack, wrapping it hastily in bubble wrap for safety. “Good old Shy…” he smiled and then began to search around the room for more previously stolen goodies…

*
Meanwhile upstairs, Shy still had his eyes closed – wishing not to be caught – but with no time to slip away into one of the Gallery rooms for safety. “DON’T SEE ME… PLEASE DON’T SEE ME – I’M INVISIBLE!!!” He could tell, by now – that Edward Alexander and the second guard had reached the top of the stairs and were presumably very close and yet they had still not seen him…

“One of them will be around here somewhere…” Ed Alexander was saying to his second in command. “Go and catch up with the second Unit – they’ll be making cups of cocoa in the Adelaide tea room if I’m not very much mistaken… I did try to explain to you all that this isn’t just another night on patrol – tonight’s the night this place is going to get broken into – that’s pretty much a certainty…”

“Yeah – whatever you say - but you didn’t want to call in the Police, did you? If it hadn’t been for your mate being our boss you’d never had gotten in here in the first place…” Shy smiled, this was good to know. “See – we don’t get paid any overtime for all this extra patrolling you’re making us do and now it’s time for my next tea break… You and the wife come and join us, if you like, mate!”

“Hunt! Don’t walk away from me like that – I haven’t finished with you…”

“Don’t shout!” cried Hunt, almost brushing against Shy on his way to the tea room. “Don’t shout – you’ll scare the burglars! Bloody ex-coppers, think they still run the place – you won’t get a badge this time mate!” Shy heard Hunt mutter as he headed down the corridor in search of refreshment.

Ed Alexander wasn’t happy – it didn’t take Shy’s telepathy to tell that, he could feel the rage radiating off of the man. “You bunch of idiots…” he spat. “I’ll see you’re all fired for this…” But Shy could sense he knew he didn’t have the power to do that – even if he did know the Head of the Security team (another ex-cop) and had managed to blag his way into patrolling the Pavilion that night.

“He’s trying to arrange it all himself…” mused Shy as Ed begun to flash his torch around the North Gallery, before deciding which room to try next. “Trying to steal all the glory – that’s his biggest mistake yet…” But suddenly Shy realised that the torch was flashing at him – lingering on him too and what’s more he’d almost forgotten the danger he was in. Ed was coming his way and what’s more Shy had a peculiar and unstoppable need to sneeze… “Now you’re done for… PLEASE DON’T SEE ME…” he willed – but deep down he knew there was no power left in his Yeti body. His time was up.

Downstairs, not so very far away, in the Hall below, Becky had reached the Security Offices, careful not to bump into any Security Guards on Patrol. There were definitely more around than normal, but that was partly to be expected! Outside the door to the office stood a woman who Becky vaguely recognised, but not sign of Shy Yeti at all. Whatsmore – from what she could see – the video monitors were still functioning which was definitely bad news indeed. “This isn’t right… What exactly’s going on here…” she wondered to herself, concerned that someone would see either Ceri or herself on the camera. “They’ve invited us into the parlour and we’ve come running… So where’s the Spider? And where, for that matter – is the Yeti?”

Suddenly, the woman’s walkie talkie crackled into life. “No sign as yet, Kim…” said a voice that was drowned out by static. “Give them another few minutes then turn the alarms back on… They’ll set them off as they leave and we can round them all up and present them with a flourish to the local Constabulary…” It was Edward Alexander, she was sure of it – lost somewhere in the building in search of Shy. And the woman… Kim… One of his colleagues – a helper – a spy…
“From the Service Station, of course…” recalled Becky. “Shit – I knew that Yeti would never have the chance to cut the wires…” she turned back into the shadows whilst Kim had her back turned and almost ran full pelt back to the Music Room and Gallery to warn Ceri of exactly what was going on.

Back upstairs, Shy still had his paws crossed. “DON’T SEE ME…”he wished and almost said it aloud.

“I can’t see a bloody thing in here…” said Ed Alexander and for a moment Shy froze and thought he was actually addressing him. “Where are they? They’ll not get away – even if they do get away they’ll not get away with it…” Shy gave a metaphorical breath of relief – too risky to give an actual one. It was obvious to him now that Ed couldn’t see him at all and yet he wasn’t making a lot of sense – perhaps he was ill as well as short sighted. “What an ugly gnu…” muttered Ed, giving Shy a quick glance. “Why do hunters think it’s so clever to stick their trophies on the wall like that…” he tapped Shy on the head. “This one’s got a solid skull and smells awful… It shouldn’t be allowed – chuck it in the litter I say – I’m sure that wasn’t one of my Grandfathers… Maybe I will stop for a cup of coffee after all…” he finished and with that also disappeared in the direction of the Adelaide tea room.

“A GNU!!” exclaimed Shy once he was sure he was on his own. “A Gnu of all things – I AM NOT A GNU! He needs his head read – let alone anything else… Good grief!” He was still in a state of panic and was busy trundling off toward the Queen Victoria suite when he remembered that not only had he left his walkie talkie in the Yellow Bow room, but that he wasn’t sure whether he was still supposed to be turning off the alarm and letting Becky and Ceri in. “Too late for all that… They’ve probably buggered off – I’ll just check my watch…” Bex had given him a new watch especially for the evening – one which would indicate whether an area was still alarmed. “Nope…” Shy noted having scanned the room ahead. “All the alarms are off so they’ve either found there own way in or everything’s broken…” he wondered again for a second whether the cameras were still on – once again that had been his job – but he already had his eyes on something centrepiece in the display cabinet in the room before him. “Who cares if they see me – what’ll they make of seeing a great big yeti on their monitor screens – I can always say it was Simon Yeti and not me – how would they tell the difference…” he giggled. “Anyway – these pies belong to my family – their rightfully mine and I’d box the ears of anyone who said otherwise… Bastards…” There before him were the Diamond Studded Pies and all the little pielets… “Come to daddy…” grinned Shy and crossed the room towards them.

Downstairs, Ceri had nearly finished all that he wanted to take from the Gallery room just as Becky came hurrying back in. “We’ve got to leave now… It wasn’t Shy who turned off the alarms – it was them – they’ve let us walk straight inside…”

Ceri nearly dropped the bag he was carrying. “So why haven’t they just rounded us up already? Where’s Shy? What about the cameras?”

“Still running I expect – I’m going to see to it and to see to Shy if I can find him… They’ve probably not picked us up yet because that idiot of an ex-copper is organising this with that girlfriend of his – she was at the service station watching us the other day – goth girl – she’s here now, helping Ed Alexander… Take anything you’ve got and just go – I’ve got to make sure that the surveillance cameras are seen too – make sure the tapes are destroyed…”

“But I’m not leaving you…” Ceri persisted. “Let’s fight ‘em to the death together…”

“Nice irony, but listen, honey! Take the bag and go! I won’t be long and I promise I won’t be long…”

“You won’t seduce any security guards in exchange for letting you go if they do catch you?”

Becky shook her head. “No – I’ll leave that to you – cheers for the vote of confidence – now get out!”

Ceri nodded. Collected his equipment he hurried towards the door – careful to check that no-one was waiting for him outside. Relieved he was safe, Becky hurried back to the Security Office, but on her arrival and to her amazement she found the room totally empty. She could hear movement upstairs – but there was no sign of Kim the Goth, Ed Alexander or anyone else for that matter. “Ok!” she sighed. “This has got to be a trap… But traps are you’re speciality!” A while back she’d escaped being eaten by a trip-wired Venus flytrap by hanging from the ceiling by her iPod earphones. She’d only gotten away by smashing the green house window and decapitating the poor plant with the shattered glass.
Creeping cautiously into the room she was relieved that nothing untoward occurred – at least not immediately. Making sure that her gloves were tightly on and that there was no chance of leaving any finger prints she set to work on the surveillance material first. Making sure that all tapes for the day were, not only wiped but that the machine was short circuited and all tapes unspooled. Within 30 seconds it was done and the tape destroyed within the bins with some hastily applied acid that she always kept on her person for emergencies. Useful for occasions such as these or sometimes for more brutal punishment when adversaries required their clothes dissolving! (Never their faces, mind-that just wasn’t playing the game) The cameras themselves continued to work (but not for very much longer) but Becky took the opportunity to check out a few of the cameras. First she noted that Ceri was well on his way to escaping to safety and the location where their car was stashed. Next she located the tea rooms, where most of the guards, including the Kim and Edward Alexander were taking a break (Eddie was restless though! She wouldn’t be left alone for very much longer, she suspected! Best to hurry!) Finally, having scanned some of the empty upstairs rooms she found Shy – busy in the Queen Victoria Apartment about to steal the Diamond Studded Pie…

Something wasn’t right… The alarms were still switched off – all the guards were taking tea…

“Shy…” she raised her minature walkie talkie to her ear – it was only meant to be used in emergencies – but this seemed like exactly the right time. “Shy… Wait… Don’t take the pies yet… There’s something wrong here…” On the screen Shy didn’t seem to hear her. “Shy?” It was then she realised that he no longer had his walkie talkie. Was there a tannoy? Should she risk using it even if there was? Could she get up the stairs in time to warn him? But warn him of what? She wasn’t even sure what the problem was – but something was setting the alarm bells ringing… THE ALARM BELLS!?!

Quickly Becky took out her palm pilot… The answer was there, clear before her. Although all the dials here stated the alarms were switched off – the Palm said different – the Palm said…

Upstairs in the Queen Victoria Rooms, Shy reached out and took the Diamond Pies and Pielets…

Suddenly, all around the building the alarms were ringing… Shutters were closing… It was too late – too late for Becky to do anything! Up on the screens she could see that the tea room was suddenly quite empty – china cups scattered – there were already feet hurrying down the stairs… There was no time to hide – only to run! Within seconds the Police would be arriving… She had to get out to be with Ceri and hope that somehow Shy would find his way too! Becky picked herself up and ran – back the way she’d come – hoping there was still a way out the way she’d come in… There were footsteps close behind her – but they were hurrying to the Security Office first – not yet after her – she was too quick for them. “Please let me get out of here…” she prayed to herself – as much as she was worried for herself she still felt guilty about leaving Shy. “Please don’t let there be shutters over the windows!”

As it happened there were shutters over most of the windows, but Ceri had already thought of that. He wasn’t known as fingers for nothing. Before leaving he’d unscrewed the hinges of the doors that they’d broken in through and left the remains of the door standing sideways – sticking into the Gallery room and halfout side. The shutters had come down and hit the wood – and were still trying to lift and drop – unsuccessfully. The door lying sideways provided Becky with an easy space to slip through – down underneath and out into the night.

“Search all the rooms…” Edward Alexander was screaming. “Travers – you take downstairs – I’ll do another sweep of upstairs… They can’t all have gotten out… The Pielets are gone…”

“There’s stuff missing down here…” Kim reported. “One of the shutters is damaged – someone’s escaped, but hopefully the Police will catch them! Oh – and the security room’s been totally trashed!”

Eddie swore – he’d hoped the Police wouldn’t get involved until he was already successfully wrapping things up… It was almost like the “good old days” – only not quite as crap and with less failure… But if the Police realised he’d known that something was going to happen and had deliberately not informed them then he could almost be an accessory to the fact. As usual things hadn’t quite gone to plan – but it wasn’t quite as bad as it looked – even though, for now it would appear some of the valuables had left the building. “Don’t worry about the security room… There are backup tapes and further cameras not linked to that room… They’ve not gotten away with this as easily as they think… Come on – at least one of them has still got to be in here somewhere – there’s no way they all got out – it’s less than three minutes since the pies were stolen and the alarm was triggered… One of them’s going to be hiding here really close…”

In many ways, Ed Alexander was right. Shy was very close. Eddie was standing right by the window in the Victorian apartment and Shy was just the other side of the glass. If it wasn’t for the shutter that had come slamming down, nearly trapping his fur then Shy would have been seen immediately. As it was he was standing on the edge of a window sill – hanging over a drop – trying to inch his way along the wall in an effort to reach the balcony that adjoined the tea rooms – with all the pies and pielets crammed into his mouth, his ears and a couple under his arm pits. He’d never had a chance to replace them with the forgeries and in fact they were all now muddled up and would take goodness knows how long to separate into false and genuine artifacts. But that was the least of his problems right now!

“Not much further…” Shy reminded himself. “Only a few more steps and you’ll be on the balcony…” Either that or he’d fall – probably ending up – and ending his furry life on a rather lethal and sharp looking range of bamboo stalks. Either that or be arrested by the Police… “Maybe I’ll fancy one of them and not mind being arrested…” he thought, hopefully. “…Or maybe my powers will pop back and I can talk my way out of things… Maybe if I manage not to choke on one of these pielets…”

Not so very far away at all. Becky had finally caught up with Ceri in the undergrowth surrounding the Pavilion. There were Police on their way, but they were making very strange noises – at least there cars were. “What on earth is that noise? What’s wrong with the Police cars – they sound drunk?”

She didn’t expect Ceri to have the answer – but actually he did. Infact he was grinning. “Good old Shy - that’s his work… I forgot all about it… When he was out on the town earlier apparently he turned up at the Police Station, donning one of his lunatic disguises – the one with the tassels or something and said he was doing Bob-a-job or charity sponsorship or SOMETHING and could he wash the Police cars… Believe it or not they said yes and he put sugar in their engines whilst he was at it!”

Becky shook her head. “I really underestimated that Yeti…” she admitted. “What the hell are we going to do now… We can’t go back in there – but I’m not at all sure we haven’t left some other trace of our visit… I destroyed the tapes – but it was just too easy… They must have had other cameras up!”

“Were you wearing your mask?” asked Ceri as they watched a couple of the Police cars bump into each other with a screech. Becky nodded. “So was I most of the time – all they’ll see is Shy and I don’t suppose they’ll quite know what to make of him… Sure, Brighton used to have a big Yeti population but you won’t find that written about much in the City history books… We’ve got to get him out though – let me think for a minute…”

But Becky was looking alarmed. “What’s that noise?” she said coldly – but it was as if she already knew. “It’s coming from your bag… Did you steal a clock?” she was pulling open the sacking. “I know that sound… Shit! Shit! Shit! All these things have been boobie trapped…” she was shaking the bags open across the grass. “Oh God Ceri… The bastard’s gone and put explosives over everything…”

Back at the Pavilion, over looking the gardens, Shy had made it to the balcony and was even about to try and climb down the wall by swinging athletically down a series of descending hanging baskets. But it was then he heard the voices of his friends. Fumbling around in his fur he drew out his trusty binoculars and focused on the far gardens. Not the side where the Police seemed to be having trouble getting their cars in – there was total chaos in that corner – but over the other side in the shadows. Flicking the infra-red switch Shy could clearly see Ceri and Becky – and they seemed to be panicking about something. He was about to try and communicate with them telepathically when…

THE WHOLE OF THAT PART OF THE GARDEN EXPLODED IN A FIREBALL…

“Guys…” croaked Shy inwardly – nearly choking on the pies. “Guys no…”
“Oh dear.” Said a voice behind him. “Things do appear to have gone with a bang…” It was Edward Alexander and he was standing alone on the balcony behind him. “Don’t speak…” he said. “I can see you have your mouth full… But not for much longer!” Shy still had some of the pielets in his mouth – there was a ticking noise in his head. “It’ll all be over soon Mr. Yeti… You’re about to get your head blown off… Sweet dreams!”

The ticking was getting louder, but Shy couldn’t even scream properly...

Find out what happens in the last episode of this exciting adventure and also the last episode to be posted before the new year...

It's all go down in Brighton next friday - 17th December 2005...

DON'T MISS IT!!!

THE TALE OF THE DIAMOND STUDDED PIE - PART 4

2005-12-02T06:27:00.000-08:00

There was much to be done next day, before the recce, at which point Shy would conceal himself until after the Pavillion closed. Ceri set about coordinating key exit points, locating safes to be broken into and role playing emergency escape scenarios, whilst Becky tested, synchronized and packed all phones, watches and tools. Shy meanwhile, went shopping for cheap clothes in Primark and then made sand castles, having had a large pile of sand delivered to the stony beach opposite Regency Square.

“At least he’s out of the way…” sighed Becky. “He can’t cause too much additional trouble, surely…” They had all asked for their breakfasts to be delivered to their rooms, to avoid seeing Ed Alexander – and Shy had been strictly forbidden to speak to the man again. “Why exactly are we getting into this - despite the fact that we know this guy is from the Police…” Becky asked Ceri to remind her.

“Not the real Police…” grinned Ceri – the excitement had rather been going to his head, after he’d been researching on his laptop all morning. “This one is particularly stupid… He was sacked after our little performance in Birmingham a while back – seems he’s set up as a Private Eye but is spending a lot of his time on our tail – with another former colleague who was also recently sacked…”

“It said all that on the Net?” exclaimed Becky incredulously.

“Pretty much… And we’re on his home turf… Guess who he’s related to – only that old Town Mayor who conned Shy’s relatives back in the early 1900s… And no – I’m not having you on…”

Becky shook her head. “So despite all the supposed winding up of Alexander that Shy did yesterday, we’re still going ahead with all this – this is the insanest insane thing I’ve heard ever, darling…”

“But as I said… This Edward Alexander bloke isn’t exactly in the good books of the Police – it might be fun to play a few more games with him. To be honest I don’t like the fact that he’s been trying to cause us all problems – you know – sniffing around about at home on the look out for our treasures… Thank goodness we transferred all the rest of the stuff from the house to the caves before we left…”

“You don’t think he’d have arranged for somebody to break in, do you?”

“No but he’ll never find it now…” just then there came a knock at the door. “Hello? Who’s that?”

“Musclebound paint-stripper as ordered, Sir – in polka dot as you specified…”

Becky grimaced. “What’s he done now – stolen one of the Mardi Gras floats as a get-a-way car and backed it into the pier and sunk it… Let yourself in Shy, the door’s unlocked…”

“I heard that!” declared Shy a tad miffed. “I want you to know that the destruction of the West Pier was all Simon’s fault – not mine! He came to switch on the Christmas lights in ’76 or was it ’77 and everyone got drunk and – well, water conducts… Did you know they had a Dr Who exhibition here by the way? They never asked for any of Simon’s old costume’s… It’s all new stuff – I’m quite upset…”

“You get more and more like him every day!” said Ceri quite honestly, but Shy took it as a compliment. “Are you ok, mate? You look tired, do you wanna take a quick nap before we head out?”

“Hmm! Nah, I think I’ll be okay!” decided Shy. “Before you ask, I’ve not seen that failed excuse for an ex-cop anywhere! So maybe he’s gone and given up or something! It’s a bit disappointing really!”

“I really doubt it!” exclaimed Becky as she finished checking the wire cutting equipment in their tool packs. “But I agree with Ceri – take a lie down before you change into your gear – remember – just a light coat over all your black gear for later – so you don’t look too odd! Nothing which lights up or plays the National Anthem at full blast! Just plain black…” she continued, not making eye contact but being very sarcastic. “You need to be ready when we leave – whereas we’ll nip back here to change before returning after dark, when you’ll be letting us in!” Shy nodded to show he remembered.

Ceri tried to be helpful but only ended making matters worse. “Maybe if you fancy a bit of colour you could follow Bex’s trick of using a bit of colour to enhance your fur… Becky's hair is dark brown, but it's dyed to enhance that and the dye has a slight rich red aspect to it, which I thought might appeal?”

Shy gave them both a cool look. “So nothing sparkly then – nothing with any style or panache?”

“No…” chipped in Becky. “No glitter, tinsel or body paint – just a spec of fur dye if you must…”

“Fur dye?!” exclaimed Shy a trifle disgustedly. “With my complexion and hair density ratios? I don’t think so! And if you’re trying to suggest that I’m going grey? I’ll have you know that this dusty silver brown is my natural colour and I intend to keep it that way! I’ll be just fine as I am, thanks!”

Ceri was trying to smooth Shy’s temper. This wasn’t the right way for the team to be relating just before a big crime. “So you kept yourself to yourself this morning – no sign of Alexander and no sign of any other Police… You’ve not worn yourself out?”

“No, honestly!” Ceri’s concern had calmed him. “Might be coming down with a bit of a cold – but I’m ok! I may have overdone things a little the other night! Maybe I will take those 40 winks, afterall!”

“You’ll probably need to get the sand out of your fur!” Ceri suggested, and Shy nodded in agreement.

“Yes… Good point…” he too had noticed the sandy trail he was leaving. “All my little sandcastle got washed away - but I did a marvelous job – all sorts of shapes – turtles – dinosaurs! One was a lifesize, giant lemon meringe pie, I had to stop myself from eating that it – it looked so real!” Ceri laughed, Becky just shook her head sadly. “I’ll go get ready… Oh, I nearly forgot… I also did a couple of other chores when I was in town – including getting these made…” He placed a large felt bag on the table and indicated that they look. “See – I’m not just a furry face after all! I’ll want them back later, mind!”

The bedroom door slammed and Ceri and Becky looked at one another. For a moment they said nothing as Ceri reached out and took the bag. Carefully he threaded back the drawstring and looked inside. “These are good – fake but well made… Here – he’s right Bex – he’s not just a furry face…”

Becky took the bag. Inside was a one large diamond encrusted pie and a number of other small pielets. Replicas of course – but like he’d just said. They were decent ones. “Good old Shy…” grinned Bex with a whistle. “I knew he could do it if he tried harder… We may even make a thief of him yet!”

*
Meanwhile elsewhere, Ed Alexander was preparing for the night ahead. He was still keeping a room on at the Regency but had needed to pop home to get his outfit for later. “It’s tonight, Kim!” he boomed triumphantly down the phone, having followed Shy around town that morning dressed as a giant Bassett hound. “He never even noticed!” Ed chortled. “I made a discovery!” he added. “I’d mistaken him for a man in a bear suit, but in fact we’re dealing with the ancient enemy – he’s a Yeti! A formidable opponent! Anyway, he was up to something earlier, I saw him heading for a jewelers! Yeti don’t wear necklaces – I know my Yeti social codes of conduct! He was up to no good!”

“Oh okay…” replied Kim distractedly – busy as she greedily devoured a luke warm Pot Noodle. “I’ll get my hair done earlier if you need me to – do you want me looking glam or secretive?”

“A bit of both perhaps – just incase the journalists want to take our photos when we pull off the greatest crime bust in history…” Ed decided. “Make sure you get to Pavillions by six, alright?”

“Oh, all right then… I’ll see ya later – I hope this costume still fits! Will we be getting a take out?”

“Yes – Chinese probably!” he assured her. “Now hurry - and make sure you bring your deadliest gun!”

“Alright then Eddie… See you later!” Edward mumbled an agreement and then put down the receiver.

“The time is near…” he muttered to himself and felt vaguely aroused from having just used the word bust in a sentence and turned back to his desk which was decorated with Wonder Woman novelty wallpaper. Linda Carter’s smiling Wonder Woman face grinning down at him. “If only I could wear an outfit as well as you, Diana Prince – you are my inspiration – you, French and Saunders and Shakespears Sister…” There were pictures all around the room of all of them. “No no…” he continued – as if listening to some bizarre conversation going on with himself. “Please don’t make me choose… All I know is that with the eternal triangle of your lucky forces I shall vanquish these criminals once and for all – Diana, Dawn, Siobhan, Jennifer and Marcella you are my strength above all…”

Somewhere downstairs Mother was calling. “Don’t shout so loud Edward – you woke the budgies!”
He had been shouting, he now realised. “I’m sorry Mother…” he bellowed back, even louder. “But I happen to be solving a crime up here and I’m seeking strength from Diana Prince…”

“You were sacked Edward – don’t be so silly – I know what you do up there! I’ve seen your posters!”

Ed slammed his bedroom door, with his hand firmly placed over his ears. “You couldn’t be further from the truth, lady!” he said to himself. “You’re nothing more than a dirty birdy! At least I’m capable of decent detective powers – unlike you… Unlike you…” Ed stared and gaped in awe at the figure that stood before him in the mirror. “You look fantastic tonight, quite fantastic!” he told himself.

Edward cut a rather strange looking fellow in the reflection, to be honest. He was very tall and a very vain man, somewhere between 6ft 3 and 4 in his early 30s. His hair was dark brown and retained the page boy cut of his teenage years but he’d recently started to dye it because his side burns were rapidly going grey and he was in constant fear that his hair would thin. He’d had his moments of being quite popular in bars, but refused to be seen out wearing glasses. Contact lens were too much trouble and he only forgot to take them out. This tended to mean that he’d spent about twenty minutes chatting up pillars or elderly cleaners went he went out clubbing, having mistaken them for someone more his age and sexual preference. The irony was that for many years he had worked in both forensics and surveillance – a lot of that work he had also done sans specs – determined that he’d look his best and bluffing his way through his work. “My short sightedness was not a factor in my failure to apprehend the Library criminals…” he had maintained, although this was of course the principal reason that he had failed. “Well – I won’t fail again…” he muttered to himself. He had his costume at the ready and revenge was in his heart. “This is the last time any of you make a fool out of me!” he declared.

Maybe. Maybe… Afterall, stranger things have often occurred around events involving Yeti…

*
Shy Yeti bit into an apple and nearly choked – the recce had gone pretty well until now…

Arriving just before Four, they’d spent the last fifty minutes exploring the former Palace of George IV. Through the Kings Apartments to The Music Room and their adjoining quarters, down the Long Gallery and through the Saloon and Banqueting Hall into The Great Kitchen where they now stood. “The Kitchen was one of the first areas to be completed as part of John Nash’s reconstruction between 1815 and 1822…” Becky read as Ceri walked ahead taking in the sheer size of the room. “A high lantern ceiling, fitted with twelve sash windows gave the spacious interior a light and airy feel…” She smiled. “I wonder if John Nash would have approved of Changing Rooms?”

Ceri was distracted. Shy seemed totally oblivious and more interested in the fake food on the table, whilst Becky was getting caught up in the history of the building. All very well – but there was a job to be done. The Pies that Shy were after were kept in the Queen Victoria Apartments upstairs, whilst what he and Becky were after was on the ground floor. But all in all he was beginning to feel that they were going to have to rush things before the Pavillions closed at 5.15. “We’ve got to find Shy a hiding place, Becky, sure – it’s nice in here, but it’s possibly the least useful room for us to spend time in…”
Before Becky had a chance to reply there came an “OUCH!” and a bit of a coughing fit from Shy and the two of them spun around. Luckily they were they were pretty much on their own except for a couple of tourists who were examining a stuffed swan which was arranged along with the other fake food on the kitchen tables. “What’s the problem Yeti? You sound like you’re about to choke…”

“This is a real apple! Who put that here on display?” Shy fumed as he spat out the bits rather messily over a dummy dressed in period costume. “Who put a real apple in the bowl of plastic fruit…”

“But it’s not for eating!” exclaimed Becky. “Oh my God, he’s quite literally gobbled the whole bowl!”
“I didn’t eat the bowl…” Shy insisted and brought it out from under his fur. “I was just stealing that!
So what if it’s fake fruit… The wax banana’s were rather fine…” Shy sulked. “…and the plastic pears were perfection! But the real one – ikkk – someone’s having a laugh! Disgusting behaviour!!!” he was regarding the two tourists suspiciously. “They’ve got their eye on that stuffed swan – I was going to nick that for my tea whilst I’m in hiding… I THINK YOU’LL FIND THAT’S MINE!!” he said and raised his voice, causing the couple to skiddaddle and leaving them alone in the kitchen.

“NO! NO! NO!” Ceri had Shy by the scruff of the fur. “You’re going to stand out like a sore thumb if you start stealing things in front of the surveillance cameras…” he indicated the one on the wall. “Act naturally, Yeti… I know we’re going to destroy all today’s tapes so we’re don’t even appear on any footage – but still – if someone spots you eating plastic fruit…” he paused – his hand had come up against something odd. “What’s that I’m touching, Yeti… What are you hiding in your fur…”

“Plastic chickens from the table over there – I just wanna little snack, Ceri –don’t begrudge me that – I’m going to have to wait a good couple of hours before I disable the alarm…” Shy was feeling quite tired by now and was tempted to take a quick snooze once he got into hiding, though Becky had told him quite firmly that he mustn’t sleep or he’d give himself away with his snoring. “Okay… I won’t steal anything else… I’ll just memorize everything you told me about the alarms…”

“Please don’t forget Shy… It’s really important that you turn them off whilst the security guards are patrolling…” explained Becky for about the fifth time that day. “Look you two – shall we get on?”

Ceri nodded and with that they continued – back round through the Banquet Hall and galleries towards the staircase that allowed access to the upstairs apartments, where Queen Victoria last had rooms back in the mid 1840s. Having passed along the corridor which the guidebook described as the Adelaide Corridor, they entered the North Gallery and then crossed into the area signed up as the Yellow Bow Rooms. They’d not been up there many minutes when suddenly a voice came through on a hallway speaker which gave them news they hadn’t expected to come quite so soon. “PLEASE MAKE YOUR WAY TO THE EXIT – THE PAVILLION WILL BE CLOSING IN FIVE MINUTES!”

Becky turned. “Where’s Shy?” All the other visitors were filing towards the stairs, but sure enough there was no obvious sign of him until Ceri spotted him on the bed, trying to get under the satin sheets.

“These sheets are all stitched together – you can’t get underneath them… Looks like I’m going to have to lie down here and pretend to be a rug after all…” Shy called over at them. “You two get out of here and I’ll see you later!” Shy was off of the bed and sure enough was now trying to arrange himself casually by the hearth before closing his eyes. “Go on guys hurry! Everything’s yaytastic here - I’ll be okay and I promise not to snore! I’ll get somewhere better as soon as everyone’s gone! Alright?”

“Shy…” Ceri tried to shake him awake again. “You’ve got to find yourself somewhere better now…” but Becky had given him a sharp dig in the ribs as the guide from the next door room came striding through looking official. “Oh… Err… I’m sure mother has a rug like that…” he adlibbed foolishly.

“Don’t touch the exhibits, Sir!” snapped the guide. “I’m afraid we’re closing now… Please leave!”

“Just going!” exclaimed Becky, giving one last look back at Shy – she was certain he gave her a wink – as they hurried towards the exit. “Just take care…” she thought very hard, just incase Shy was trying to read her mind. “Take care and don’t take any stupid chances…”

*
Almost two hours had passed, when Shy suddenly opened his eyes and sat up with a snort. He was in exactly the same place as he’d curled once the Pavilion had closed and sure enough he had done exactly what he’d said he never would. He’d been asleep. “Well, at least I didn’t snore…” he muttered guiltily. “Or at least if I did no-one heard…” he smirked for a second, imagining the guides crowding round him – alarmed that their prize rug was suddenly gurgling and drooling and dreaming of pies. However this didn’t seem to have happened at all. “I don’t recall dreaming of anything…” he muttered and stood up. His legs felt very weak and he tottered around and nearly collapsed on the bed. “Hmm!” he sighed. “Don’t feel well at all – too many wax chickens and now I’m bloated… Stupid Yeti…”

Still, he didn’t feel so bad that he couldn’t continue and collecting his equipment from under the bed he made his way across the room and down a short flight of steps into another exhibition area. As Ceri had assured him, most of the doors were left open, due to the sheer amount of time it would take everyday if every door in the Pavillion had to be closed and locked at the end of the working day…

“It’s the exhibitions themselves that are alarmed – the exhibitions and the windows to prevent break-ins… There are two security guards in the building and they patrol the rooms once an hour – one in a clockwise rotation – one anti clockwise. Another reason all the internal doors are left open…”

Sure enough Ceri was correct. Shy checked his watch and saw that the first shift was probably soon about to start. It was now he needed to make his way to the Security room and deactivate the alarms – also to make sure that any security videos were obtained. All that and then he’d be able to let Ceri and Becky into the building. “All’s well…” thought Shy telepathically. “Am progressing as planned…” Suddenly his head was filled with pain and he tottered on his paws at the top of the main staircase. “Crikey… What was that…” he gasped – before realising exactly what was going on. It was his powers – they were low, in fact they were almost non-existent – and the pain in his head was the pain of telepathic messages bouncing back undelivered. “Flip! I knew it! Damn! I knew something was wrong – why didn’t I say something? It’s all your own fault too – stupid Yeti showoff!”All that mucking about in Castleton had drained his powers and he’d been so busy since arriving in Brighton that there had been no time to replenish them. “Well, crack on and just get on with things – there’s nothing for it now – power or no power – you’re in this mess and you’ve got to get yourself out of it!”

“Who is that?” Shy realised right at that moment that he’d spoken the last few words aloud. Suddenly there was the flash of torch light up the staircase and a figure started up the stairs. “Who is it?”

Shy stepped back, but was surprised to see not just one guard but two. “If there’s only two guards on duty then they’ll patrol alone – but there’s a possibility they’ll be more guards tonight, if Ed Alexander plans to stick a few tricks up his sleeve…” Ceri had warned him. “They might even leave someone on guard in the Security office full time – so you must be extra careful and you might have to use some of that Yeti magic to put a few of them asleep so we can get in and out unseen…”

Of course that wasn’t going to be possible now. Shy backed off into the shadows of the North Gallery as another halo of torchlight almost found him – not just from the stairs but also from along the Adelaide Corridor. There were either a whole fleet of guards in tonight or Shy had rather unfortunately emerged exactly at the point where the two units crossed. He could already see the first pair on the stairs – one of them was Ed Alexander in a Security Guard uniform a few of sizes too small. “Don’t see me… Please don’t see me!” willed Shy, although he knew he had no strength left. “Don’t see me! DON’T SEE ME… PLEASE DON’T SEE ME…” The guards – led by Ed Alexander moved closer!

FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS NEXT IN PART 5 - POSTED UP NEXT FRIDAY!!!

THE TALE OF THE DIAMOND STUDDED PIE - PART 3

2005-11-25T01:27:00.000-08:00

Next morning, Shy got to sit back and enjoy the ride, next day, as they set off. Ceri had lent Shy some disks and told him to sit quietly and watch them on his portable dvd. “I’ve packed all our British 1930s crime movies and my boxset of Raffles which we used as our inspiration when we first met. Just to top it off there’s an episode of The Goodies with Joan Sims called “Come Dancing” which you might enjoy! The suits are good – 1940s style, but don’t get any funny ideas! We won’t be dressed like that!”

Shy said nothing – he’d been scoffing the chocolate from Matlock Bath and now felt sick. He had his own ideas for what he wanted to wear – but decided to keep quiet for now. Ceri’s mention of Joan Sims reminded him of when he and Simon had been chased off the set of Carry On Taxidermist, after Simon had accidentally eaten all the food that had been set up for the cast’s lunch, for his mid-morning snack. Joan Sims had been particularly cross and had refused to take Simon’s calls after that. (Kenneth Williams, however, had found it all rather hilarious!) Anyway, Shy said nothing. They’d sat up so late the night before making plans that he now felt quite exhausted. The plans were as follows:

Main Item to be stolen:

THE DIAMOND STUDDED PIE (AND DECORATIVE PIELETS)

Location:

The Pavillion, Brighton.

Reason:

These pies originally belonged in the Yeti family but were stolen, in 1905 by Harrison Fulton who was Mayor of Brighton and a nemesis of Shy’s Grandfather, Walt. Fulton was very anti-Yeti and declared the City a NO FUR ZONE. However, he had always admired the Yeti’s pies – which originated from 12th Century Old Sarum and agreed to allow Shy’s family peaceful co-existence, if they handed them over. Sadly, when Walt did so Fulton went back on his agreement once the goods had been secured. Later, when the law was revoked Shy’s family had no proof that the pies had ever belonged to them.

Plan:

Arrive in Brighton. Stay in B&B over night. Do recce of Pavillion following day – Shy remain inside after closure of museum, later disable alarm so that Ceri and Becky can break in. (Ceri and Becky also have items in mind to steal, pillaged by the former Mayor – but they will also try and help Shy…)

It was a good plan. And with Shy’s skills there was no reason anything should go wrong. Stopping in a service station just outside Brighton, whilst tucking into an All Day Breakfast he attempted to get into his new role, but was still a little unsure as to what type of criminal he was meant to be, having seen so many films over the last 24 hours. (The night before he’d even watched The Godfather on fast forward but had gotten scared by the odd facial hair and occasional random murder on display.) “So how did you two get to realising you were both into stealing stuff, then?” Shy wanted to know more about their criminal lives, as he knocked back his fifth cup of coffee. “Was it before you got together or after…”
“Before we met…” they replied, almost in unison and then Ceri added. “Though not by much! But what’s so good is that now we’re together we compliment one another. Becky’s primarily a cat burglar with limited cracksman capabilities, whilst that’s exactly my strength! We’re really a perfect match!”

“Please, spare me any comments about stealing each others hearts or I might just be sick!” Shy sighed.

Becky glared, but said nothing. Ceri was more patient. “You see, I’d been put in charge of finding out who had been stealing pens, rulers and post it notes from our Library. It was becoming quite an issue!”

“That was me!” cut in Becky. “I melted them down to make splints for injured budgies! As for Ceri, well, it wasn’t long before I cottoned on that he was conning students out of their cannabis plants!”

Shy smiled. “I suppose you simply wanted to appreciate the plants for what they were – saving your students from mindless addiction and from spending all their grant money on drugs…”

“No!” laughed Ceri. “We smoked it and gave it to our friends – but we used the plant pots to rehouse love sick guinea pigs and set them up in a community free from sarcasm… It’s a very good cause!”

Shy grinned, unsure whether to believe them. “So you became suspicious of one another - and then?”

“Then when we started dating and went away together for our first romantic weekend, we both clashed when it came to stealing the towels and the soap and the dressing gowns - and then it clicked that we were really on the same wavelength and after that there was no stopping us!” continued Becky. “We started competing to steal for each other – each time stealing a gift more lavish or outrageous…”

“But it had to stop…” explained Ceri. “One day I stole the whole of the contents of London Zoo and Bex had bagged me Nelson’s Column and Marble Arch… There was just no room to store it all…”

“Right.” nodded Shy, expecting one of them to giggle or give themselves away – but neither did.

“It was getting silly…” Becky continued. “People were noticing that these things were missing and yes, there were storage issues - so we had to rethink… So, we decided to team up and only steal from people who either deserved it, owned stolen goods or who stole themselves! Like this Harrison Fulton guy we were reading up about last night – the one who stole your family pies – he was a really nasty piece of work and it’s about time we redistributed his wealth – even if it is 100 years after the event!”

Shy had noticed that one of the cashier girls, a goth with spikey green hair whose name was Kim, was cleaning tables but was also trying to listen in. Shy downed a final mug of coffee and with a quick nod they ambled back to the car. “So, were you up to this the whole time we were at Uni then, fella?”

“No, not at all…” explained Ceri. “It was after I was in hospital, about 3 years back, now. I’d had a past life regression to see if that would help my problems and it turned out that in a former life I had been a notorious lesbian gangster, the Black Country ration book robber known as Fingers L’Clapp. Pruella L’Clapp had terrorised the area with her band of shop girls back in the late 1940s. It was fascinating researching it all, you know. Pru used to give most of the food she stole to cats who’d been separated from their owners and she’d died from unspecified tin opener wounds in about 1953. A bit of an Anti-hero apparently! So, she was my real inspiration to be honest and with the possibility that I was her reincarnation I nicknamed myself Fingers and begun to live a life of crime in my spare time!”

“Okay…” Shy was still waiting for them to laugh. “You’re telling me the truth, right – like really…”

“Oh yes!” exclaimed Becky as Ceri drove. “I was known as Madame Becky, Queen of the Underworld and had been well taught by a family friend who robbed rich families on Christmas Eve dressed as Santa. Anyway, I was quite well regarded until the day SNEAKTHIEF MONTHLY decided to print an interview with me. They only went and miss-spelt my alias as Becky, Queen of the Underwear and you guessed it - the name stuck! I was a laughing stock! No one took me seriously after that! I’d semi-retired by the time I met Ceri – resorting to an occasional raid of the stationery cupboard at work!

Shy was a little short of patience now. “You’ve having me on! Most of all this just sounds ludicrous!”

“Not feeling telepathic today?” Becky teased. Ceri winced. “Believe what you like, Shy! I don’t care!”

Shy snapped shut the portable Dvd. “Oh whatever!” he sighed. “Tell me lies – tell me sweet little lies – I’m too tired to work you out now – I want to conserve my energy for later!” Even Ceri laughed this time, but something wasn’t right. Shy was completely exhausted, but as they drove on he said nothing.

*
Once in Brighton they checked into The Grande Hotel, just off Regency Square and made a quick recce of the outside of the Pavillions, before dusk. Everything was spot on and the opening and closing times, exit points and staff movements were as expected. “I’m really rather looking forward to this…” Shy grinned as they took a pleasant table outside at the Regency Restaurant, across the road from the abandoned West Pier. “The hotel’s very nice too – but I never thought we’d get out of there, earlier…” exclaimed Shy, once they had ordered. “When I was waiting for you two in reception, this fat old guy kept chatting to me – I think he was looking for a holiday buddy or something – he seemed lonely…”

“You can’t risk getting to know anyone around here, Shy!” Ceri warned him. “We’re in for one night and gone as soon as we’re done! We need to be as anonymous as possible, so nobody remembers us!”

“Of course! I realize that and that’s why I see now that you were right about dressing up discreetly and why I’ve decided that you’re also in the right about the dark suits as opposed to what I had in mind!”

Becky shot Ceri a look. “What’s all this about?” she enquired dubiously - almost half reluctant to ask.

“It’s okay…” Ceri reassured her. “Shy took some polaroids of a few outfits he fancied trying…” he nodded to the Yeti to hand them over as they waited for their meals. “Don’t worry – he won’t be wearing any of these now… We had a little chat back at the hotel and we’re sorted… Are you ok?”

Becky was open mouthed. “Shy… You didn’t really… I mean… Are these fish nets? You’d never have gotten away with that? And the bright pink nuns outfit! I mean – you were joking, right? In this one you’re just wearing one very large pair of flares – so large you can barely see your face!”

“The ultimate disguise therefore! I just thought it’d be nice to be original – to make a statement – to have my own style or costume like Super heroes do!” Shy replied guiltily. “These were all things Simon had lost in storage – I always fancied trying them on and I rather thought now was the time…”

“If you were going to become a catwalk model it might have been the look…” Becky told him. “But as it is you’re preparing to break into a building after closing time… Lime green hot pants and nipple tassels is hardly practical for that sort of thing. This is burglary sweetheart – not Top of the Pops…”

Shy nodded. “I realise that now! I’m sorry you saw them – please don’t let it put you off your dinner!”

“HOLIDAY SNAPS?” cried a voice suddenly and out of nowhere a rather large gentleman in lycra had planted himself down in the spare chair on their table. “Mind if I have a seat, Benny old boy? I was just passing by – on my way to the cinema but I just couldn’t resist coming over to say howdo…”

Shy tucked the photos hurriedly into his fur and blushing continued. “Bjorn – Agnetha… This is Alexander Something-or-other from our hotel. He’s here for the World Tiddlywinks Championship!”

Alexander grinned and adjusted his tanktop. He had a rather uncomfortable look on his face. “Poor Benny was telling me about how his wife is here for the Sea Spas! How is Annie? Is she any better?” Shy nodded embarrassedly. “Is she sleeping? It must be nice for her to have her Doctors here 24-7!”

“I was – err – saying that I’d paid for the best Swedish surgeons to help my – err wife…” croaked Shy. “I really ought to go and see if she’s okay in a minute actually, Alexander… I hope your film’s good!”

“I’m sure it will be… It’s about Herring…” said Alex and then suddenly blurted out. “It’s a crime…”

“What do you mean?” Ceri and Becky stopped staring angrily at Shy and turned to face Alex instead.

“It’s a crime that this sort of thing can’t be cured on the NHS! Leprosy is so painful – my poor darling grandmama nearly caught that from years as a School dinner lady! Who’d have thought it would happen after Eurovision – the irony of life, my dears…” he was up from his seat. “Good on you for paying for expert help, Benny – though I’m surprised you had to sell your body to make the money! See you later – nice to meet you – love to Annie!” By now all the diners were staring at them.

“I said I was a magistrate – not a prostitute…” muttered Shy, before he met with the gazes of his friends. “I’m sorry – I just thought I’d better make up a cover story – I said I had an ill wife and that you were her medics… What could be simpler… Perhaps I should have just said we were on holiday!”

“Maybe…” snapped Bex. “But he seems to think we’re ABBA and that one of us has caught leprosy!”

“Rare Norwegian leprosy…” Shy corrected him. “It’s not as serious as real leprosy – it only makes your nose and your ears drop off – I told him it’s the same as what Michael Jackson used to have…”

Becky was shaking with rage – so Ceri spoke for them both. “What did you think you were playing at, Shy? How come he thinks we’re ABBA? You only had five minutes with the guy – you managed to say so much! I’m sorry Shy – that’s it – we’re going home! Neither of us are willing to risk going to the Pavillions now…” Ceri lowered his voice. “Everything is ruined – we should have known better than to mix Yeti’s and crime – we were mad! Most of Brighton has heard that man talking about us…”

“I’m sorry…” apologised Shy. “But it’s not as if any of it were true… I mean – as long as the original members of ABBA don’t find out that we’ve been posing as them to disguise our true identities… I suppose it could happen – but well… Listen – I really didn’t mean to spoil anything – the guy’s an idiot – he’s only interested in Tiddlywinks – not how many diamond studded pies I intend to steal…”

Becky had stopped shaking now and seemed thoughtful instead. “He looked familiar…” she said suddenly. “I think there’s more to it than he’s idiotic persona – it was an act – he’s a clever one!”

Ceri looked confused. “An act? What do you mean he looked familiar…” he demanded incredulously.

“She’s right too!” agreed Shy, recovering a little. “I was suspicious from the moment I spoke to him!”

Becky looked dubious. “He was in Castleton yesterday, he was with that builder that Shy kissed – the one who didn’t speak! He was in disguise today! They’ve been following us - they’re Police, hon!”

“I think so too…” agreed Shy. “I rather reckon that they’re after you two…”

“Then we’re definitely going home…” decided Ceri. “This is a nightmare.”

Shy laid a paw on both their arms. “Not at all! This just makes it even more of a challenge – we’re more than a match for them! They may be Police – but I don’t reckon they’ve got a brain cell between them! We can still do this! Get away with it and leave them with egg on their faces! Are you still in?”

Ceri and Becky looked unsure – but then they nodded. “Ok!” they replied. “On your fur be it though!”

Meanwhile, closeby Edward Alexander was squeezing himself awkwardly into a small van which had once been used for the sale of icecream. “Bloody fat suit! I want to take it off, but I can’t find the zip!”

“Let me have a look…” said his Assistant, former WPC Kim Travers – a lady, who Shy, Becky or Ceri would most probably have recognised as the nosey goth from the service station. Kim had recently lost her job after being caught Sellotaping her bosses to the ceiling after a disagreement over sexist remarks, made by her I might add. “Did you get anything?” she asked slightly lethargically.

Edward Alexander shook his head crossly. “They’re maintaining that they’re Swedish or something – but it’s definitely them… This time we’re going to get them Kim – this time we’ll catch them…”

Ex-WPC Travers looked uncertain. “Can’t we call the real Police for some help? For back up?”

“After what they did to me, Kim! No way – I’m freelance now! Solving this could mean claiming a reward off all the people those two have stolen from – or if we can locate their stash we could sell it and retire. I’ve vowed for the last six months that I’d nail them. Ever since they stole the Sutton Park Chalice and got away with it! I lost my job because they said I bungled the case – well, in a way I did… I tried to frame them last time and it all back fired on me… I need more evidence…”

“So this is just one of their many crimes…” confirmed Kim. “You want to catch them red handed?”

“Exactly! No matter if they’ve got help this time from their friend in the bear suit, but that’s not going to stop us! This time we’re on my home ground – there’s only one reason they’re here! They’ll be after something from the Pavillion – they were hanging around there earlier. As it happens, most of what’s in there used to belong to my Great Grandfather, Harrison Fulton. I’m going to make sure that none of it leaves this town! They’ve walked into our trap, Kim and they’re going to get their just desserts! They could even end up dead! This is a dangerous business to be in! We both know that!”

Kim nodded. “I suppose so – in extreme circumstances if a gun’s involved! I suppose it can happen…”

Ed Alexander grinned. “Oh yes… “ he replied greedily. “You can be pretty sure of that, my dear…”

WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT??? HAVE SHY, CERI AND BECKY MET THERE MATCH?

APOLOGIES READERS FOR NO POST LAST FRIDAY - THIS WAS DUE TO SHY YETI GET HIS FUR IN A TANGLE AFTER A BIT OF AN ACCIDENT WITH A HOOVER. (OKAY! THE TRAINS WERE LATE - I GOT INTO WORK LATE - THERE WASN'T TIME!!) THAT SAID - I CAN ASSURE YOU THAT THE 4TH EXCITING PART OF THIS ADVENTURE WILL BE UP NEXT FRIDAY: 2ND DECEMBER 2005.

TAKE CARE 'TIL THEN!

APOLOGIES

2005-11-23T09:30:00.000-08:00

DUE TO A PROBLEM WITH SHY YETI'S FUR - PART 3 OF THE TALE OF THE DIAMOND STUDDED PIE WAS NOT PUBLISHED LAST FRIDAY...

THE GOOD NEWS IS: SHY YETI RETURNS THIS WEEK!!!

COMING SOON... PART 3: FRIDAY 25TH NOVEMBER 2005!!!

xx

THE TALE OF THE DIAMOND STUDDED PIE - PART 2

2005-11-09T10:35:00.000-08:00

“Oh my God!” grinned Shy suddenly, after a moment’s consideration. “Are you telling me that you’re some kind of super-thieves? That you steal stuff? Real stuff and everything! Like actual criminals!”

Becky swung in through the window. “That’s about the extent of it! But I assure you, it’s no game!”

“I do apologise!” corrected Shy. “So, you’re Bonnie and Clyde only no-one’s made a film about you?”

“Yet!” replied Ceri crisply and with a wide Cheshire Cat smile. “Anyway we see each other more like two 1930s Raffles types. Theft as a hobby from those who deserve it, as a sort of eccentric pastime!”

“Yes, that figures! It’s a good look too, if you can pull it off – which, I may add, I’m sure you do!” Shy shook his fur in disbelief. It wasn’t that he disapproved, but had been taken by surprise. “By all the furry saints, you’re quite something, guys! I’m fascinated! Who’d have thought it of librarians!!”

“So, why the sudden interest?” Becky hadn’t taken so well to his former comment – now she was fully into the room she seemed intent on moving Shy as far from the boxes and the trinkets, as possible.

“It’s hardly a SUDDEN interest!” corrected Shy. “I’ve only just found out about it – it’s a new interest – a sort of growing excitement that you and one of my oldest friends have an exciting secret life!”

“Yeah… Well, you won’t get a chance to spoil it either, Yeti. They’ll be no calling the Police!”

Now Shy was quite offended and let it show. “BECKY!!! How could you say such a thing? Who sort of grass do you take me for? So, you live your lives like Cary Grant and Grace Kelly in To Catch A Thief? That doesn’t mean that I’m some sort of dull, down to earth bore who’ll disapprove and try to turn you in! My head would sue my brain before I tried a stunt like that! I envy you! I know we’ve not met many times, Bex – but surely Ceri’s told you what I’m like? Come on mate, surely – don’t just stand there – back me up – tell her! I’m on the verge of being mortally wounded here! Me? Call the rozzers? I wouldn’t even consider it and you should jolly well take back your accusation before I cry!”

Becky was blushing – infact they all were – it had been a rather embarrassing performance on Shy’s part, to be honest. All the same she genuinely seemed sorry to have misjudged him. “I didn’t mean it, Shy – I got carried away – I never meant it like that – I just totally jumped to the wrong conclusion!”

Ceri stepped in to try and mediate further. “It’s okay darling – he understands! But, Shy - you can see why Bex might have thought you’d try and get the Police involved… Or at least be initially concerned about it! He wouldn’t though, Bex - he’s not that sort of Yeti! Anyway, he’s a friend from way back!”

Becky was blushing. “I’m really sorry, Shy! You have to be SO careful! I had my crime head on – I overreacted!” She paused as if to see if she needed to say more. “Can I stop groveling now, please?”

Shy grinned his usual furry grin. “Quite understand!” he confirmed. “You’re completely forgiven!”

“Shall we just forget you ever saw anything, Shy…” Ceri asked reluctantly. “Leave it at that…”

“Oh no!” interrupted the Yeti suddenly. “We mustn’t do that! No! I’m interested – really I am! I want to see your stash! Come on – tell me everything – how much have you got hidden away here in all!?”
“It’s not just in here, actually!” admitted Ceri, pleased and relieved that his friend was taking all this so enthusiastically. “We’ve got loads more hidden away in a secret cavern down at the Devil’s Arse!”

“I meant to ask you about that! I saw it on a box earlier! Do I want to know – it sounds rather rude!?”

Ceri raised his eyebrows. “Trust you, Shy! You and your double entendre fixation! Carry On has much to answer for…” Shy looked disappointed. “I assure you – other than the name – it’s not at all rude!”

“It’s a large series of caves!” Becky cut in, beginning to relax. She was dressed all in black, Shy noted. She wore dark trousers, Converse trainers, Polo neck sweater, a fetching black beret, under which her shoulder length brown hair was tucked and a little black mask to top it off. Archetypical cat burglar, if you will! “We’ve got access down to the caverns!” she added. “This house is built right over them!”

“Did you get what you went for?” Ceri asked, helping Bex with her rucksack. “I can’t believe I forgot to ask before! All I could think about was you getting home safe! I just hate when you go out solo!”

“I know, baby!” Becky smiled and gave him a kiss for his concern, hugging his arm affectionately and finally letting her true excitement show. “Yes! I got it all! The necklace AND the silver bracelet!”

“From a bank?” Shy was nearly drooling in awe of what he’d overheard. “What did you rob, Becky?”

“Not a bank…” Becky corrected. “This was a country house near Buxton!” she replied, still seeming a tad reluctant to confide such information to a virtual stranger. “We’ve been after this one for a while!”

Ceri tried to explain. “It was stolen from one family to another back in the early 1900s! It’s the way we choose all our big steals – through research and by selecting items which are well known to have been swiped by errant house maids, bitter mistresses, conniving butlers, sons, daughters or ex-wives… Everything in the spare room or in the caves has a history – a story – and Becky or I know every one!”

Shy was almost clapping his paws together in excitement. “Wow!” he grinned. “By the furry saints, if that isn’t just so darn romantic! How perfect! I’m so proud of you both – using your degrees to such good effect! It’s more than can be said for a lot of us! I love it – I really do! Stealing treasures that have already been stolen and are probably long forgotten too… Is it all out on display somewhere? Do you plan to keep it or sell it on? Melt it down? Put it back even? I’m joking with that last one, mind!”

“We do plan to display it when the store in the caves is completely finished.” Ceri replied. “But it all takes time – we’re neither of us that hot on DIY and it’s taken an age to reopen the passages to the cave as it is! This was a Highwayman’s cottage back in the 1600s, so we’re reviving an old tradition!” he added proudly – now totally full of himself and feeling liberated that he was finally able to discuss his secret hobby with Shy. “I wasn’t sure how you’d take all this, boy – I badly underestimated you!”

“No problem!” Shy reassured him. “To be honest the old me might have rather backed off from it all – and I mean backed off screaming and waving his paws about in panic! I dealt with crooks all day long in the entertainment business and when I worked with Simon Yeti I saw them all the time! But you and Becky are different - just plain, old fashioned anti-heroes – Robin Hood with Library cards!”

“Something like that…” acknowledged Becky finally allowing herself a grin. “You should have seen the trouble caused in Central Library… That was classic… We used our own staff as distractions…”

“Well that makes sense! So, can I see some more of your collection?” asked Shy as they ushered him into the room where he was supposed to have been staying. “I have a plan!” he added. “Something you could steal… Do you need a third person – I want to be your sidekick… What do you reckon?”

For Becky this was taking things that little bit too far. “OH! NO WAY!” she exclaimed and that earlier look of distrust and suspicion had returned. “No way! Ceri, you tell him! There’s no way he’s coming with us on a stake out! Look at him! He’s 7 foot tall and hairy! How’s he supposed to blend in? He’d get his fur caught in the roof-tiles or stuck down a chimney!! We’d be a laughing stock within days!!”

Ceri seemed unsure what to say or whom to speak up for; torn between Becky’s realism and Shy’s sheer excitement for the whole project. “Look Shy! I dunno if this is such a good idea…”

“YOU’RE NUTS!! NUTS!! JUST TELL HIM OUTRIGHT!” Becky insisted – but Ceri was wavering.

“Calm down, hon! I’m just trying to explain!” he turned to Shy. “I don’t know if you’ve got the know how to help us! It’s a technical business this crime stuff… Perhaps you can help out!? Do you drive?”

Shy looked unsure. “I can cycle…” he volunteered a tad reluctantly.
“Right – well maybe you could be the Get-away driver – cyclist – I dunno… Perhaps? I’m sure we could find someway in which you could be useful – even if it was just as a lookout – in disguise!?!”

Shy tried not to look too upset. “Listen people…” he said. “I really don’t want to cause an argument here – but I’d like to reassure you that I do have a few tricks hidden up my furry sleeve that could well be of use! I have Yeti talents that I’d be happy to demonstrate which I think might surprise you…”

“He only wants to help out, Becky… Surely we can, at least, listen to him – and to be honest what could we have done if he had decided to go to the Police? He’s been more than good about all this!”

“I pretty sure she’d have shaved off all my fur and suffocated me with it? You can never tell with girls when they get power - it goes to their heads! The female of the species is more deadly than the Yeti!” he said and then added. “She’d never have done it though – I’m told I have a very hypnotic gaze!”

“PLEASE SHY!! SHUT IT!!” Ceri insisted, Becky looked just about cross enough to physically attack the Yeti, like some mother cat protecting her kittens and even Shy wasn’t sure he hadn’t pushed it too far this time and fear he’d end up with badly ruffled fur at the bottom of the stairs. Shy had grown up fearing strong women like Becky - his Great Auntie Joyce had been another good example, which we may return to at some stage. He’d had a rather odd upbringing as far a girls were concerned. Boy yetis tended not to mix with them, to be honest. Most males went into acting, singing or interpretive dance whilst like in the real world, the girl yetis basically did anything and everything of any importance.

“I’m not happy with this – you know I’m not…” sighed Becky at last. “But if he can prove himself, then maybe I’ll rethink. I have a nasty feeling that if we don’t listen, then he’ll go and rob something just to prove that he can and end up in right sticky mess, which we’ll only have to bale him out of anyway! Hopefully the novelty will soon wear off – or else I might well dig out my fur clippers…”

Shy looked as if he was about to say, “Told you so…” when Ceri gave him a very severe look indeed and Shy decided it best to nod in almost total agreement. “You know… Becky’s right…” he agreed. “I probably would try and do something stupid and end up making a complete tit of myself…”

Ceri looked up in the direction of the ceiling. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a sidekick then! I’d say there won’t be any problem joining us as long as you can prove you’ve got the basic skills required!”

“Amazing!” grinned Shy and this time he did clap his paws. “I’m going to surprise you! I’m quite multi-talented, donchaknow! You just see! These new Yeti powers of mine will blow you away…”

*
To be perfectly honest, Shy soon became a little bit carried away by his mission to impress. In some ways you might say that what Shy did that day in Castleton was worse than anything Ceri and Becky had previously achieved. I mean, a little bit of good, old fashioned thievery is part of what once made this country great! After all, what would America or Australia have been today had we not nicked it off the locals!? Maybe, not the best ever example, I grant you! But as they had both feared Shy really decided to go and push the boat out when it came to showing off his potential value that evening.

“Follow me!” he declared confidently as he led his friends down the High Street. It was beginning to look like rain and there were a few tourists out with brollies. “Might I borrow that? May I? Thank you – cheerio!!” Ceri and Becky stared on incredulously as Shy shambled along the pavement – quite blatantly plucking umbrellas from apparently willing donors, with nothing more than a smile or a grin.

“What the hell is he doing?” exclaimed Becky. “Why are they letting him just do that…”

“Umm – not sure, Bex – all part of the plan I suppose… Nobody seems to be protesting, at all…”

“Umbrella?” Shy was handing them out and so Ceri and Becky took them as the rain had started to fall much harder, by now. “Anyone fancy a take away?” Shy giggled and without waiting for an answer strode into the nearest fish and chip shop. “Once, twice, three times a large cod and chips, please!”
Ceri and Bex watched as their furry friend practically helped himself to the food and yet the fish and chip lady pretty much let him do so. Not a penny was handed over and there he was again – back on the pavement with their dinners. “Apparently they’re free – to me… I have nice eyes, I’m told!”

“He’s using some sort of influence!” Bex had caught on now. “I knew he was telepathic – but THIS!!”

Ceri looked apologetic. “He wasn’t like that before – he wasn’t like this in University for that matter! Not at all! I think he’s been over-stretching his Yeti powers or something – he mentioned concussion!”

“Not insanity?” queried Becky glibly. “Did he forget to mention that bit! Sorry – am I being mean?”

But Ceri did not reply as Shy was back and as hyperactive as ever. “I fancy a pint!!” he declared as he popped a battered sausage into Ceri’s ear and hesitated to stick another up Becky’s nose. Thinking better of it he handed it to her instead. “Stolen goods – I’m afraid!” But you should know all about that by now! To the pub, then!” Ceri was about to ask him to stop, but Shy was in a world of his own – standing in the middle of the road, he’d already flagged down a Postal van which was passing through to collect the last post of the day. “Hop in the back why don’t you?” Shy hollered and gave a large Yeti grin that showed off his strong teeth. “This good man has kindly offered us a lift to the pub!”

The Postie didn’t seem to mind as they all jumped in. “That’ll be the Yeti hypnosis though!” muttered Becky. “We’d better be careful, honey… What if he tries that on us! He could make us his slaves…”

Ceri shot Shy a worried look. “I’d never dare!” Shy assured them. “Careful!” he added as Bex almost sat upon a parcel marked FRAGILE. The Post van shot off down the road and they all ended up in a pile. “Careful, fella! You really must consider us the most valuable cargo you’ve ever carried!”

“Sorry!!” came the reply, as he applied the brakes again and they all fell over into a pile once more.

“Ohhh!” exclaimed Shy excitedly. “We’re here! The Pub!! All out, please!” beginning to get a little tired by now, they still did as they were told and piled out onto the street outside “THE CURIOUS BEAGLE”. Shy waved on the Postie, french kissed two furry builders and then disappeared inside.

“I’m really sorry!” Ceri apologized to the men. “You were hypnotized! Please don’t punch him or us!”

One of the builders grinned and looked dazed. “He’s a good kisser!” he replied. “I wasn’t hypnotized! I don’t hypnotise, me – can’t speak for my mate here but as far as I know he prefers a real man, too!”

“Oh, okay! Thanks then – bye!” Feeling quite befuddled, Becky and Ceri entered the pub, expecting some all out orgy or smooching contest to have ensued. But instead they were met by total silence.

“Come in – come in…” Shy encouraged. The whole pub sat silent. Nobody moved. “Barman…” he bellowed rudely. “Would you bring us that pint you’re drinking – and your plate eat our fish and chips here on your premises! Hurry along now!” Ceri and Becky stood back and admired Shy’s amazing mind control – as the usually moody landlord did as he was told without even a word of protest.

“Thanks, Geoff…” said Becky, helping herself hungrily – having not eaten since the robbery.

“So am I in then?” asked Shy as he unwrapped his paper parcel. Standing up he walked from silent table to silent table – sipping a bit from one pint, chugging down a half glass of this or that – turning one man’s hat back to front and removing a tasty looking steak and kidney pie from a ladies plate to the sad looking dog who sat alone in the corner. “Never fear!” he added. “I do have some conscience! I’ll errr – buy everyone a round! Not that I have a great deal of dosh, but I’ll have a word with Geoff!”

“Sounds good to me!” muttered one man – it was one of the builders that he’d snogged just recently.

Shy smiled, but then continued. “Come on – the hypnosis is wearing off now - but you have to admit it, I could be useful! I can show you a nice trinket to steal if you take me along! So, am I in? Just the once! I’ll grow bored of the novelty – I’ll let you get back to your routine in peace. Please, guys…” The whole pub waited in silence for the answer. Well, strictly speaking it didn’t because they were mostly all hypnotized, but it sounds more impressive and dramatic if you can picture it. “Guys?!?”

“You’re in, if Becky says you’re in…” replied Ceri. “Bex? You have the final say…”

Silence. All eyes turned to Becky. Then. “Okay…” she sighed. “You’re in – just this once…”

“Cool banana!” grinned Shy. “Now, that is good news! Smashing… Geoff’s round then! Geoff!?”

Almost as he finished speaking the Pub flicked back into life again. Becky closed her eyes as she chewed another mouthful of fish. “I do hope we won’t both be regretting this in a couple of days…” she whispered to Ceri, who tried to look positive. “Shy Yeti…” she exclaimed. “Shy Yeti, my foot…”

FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS NEXT WEEK IN PART 3 OF SHY YETI AND THE TALE OF THE DIAMOND STUDDED PIE!!!

PART 3 WILL BE POSTED UP ON FRIDAY 18TH NOVEMBER...

THE TALE OF THE DIAMOND STUDDED PIE - PART 1

2005-11-04T12:05:00.000-08:00

The Library World had seen nothing like this before... THIS – was quite definitely – a first!!!!!

All this happened well over six months ago, at time of writing – in late 2004. This was a while before the events of our previous adventures in Tenby and some time before a casserole attempted to destroy Brixton back in May. This rebellious incident didn't happen in Wales, nor London - but in the West Midlands. In Birmingham Central Library to be exact. At this particular time a high profile local history exhibition, aligned with the local museum was being held in the library and all sorts of old records, photos and artifacts had been brought together under one roof. Although things were much busier than normal, everything had gone fine until the day that a big group of middle aged tourists from Leicester had arrived. Having had a rather heavy liquid lunch they were rather more rowdy than most visitors to the exhibition. The effect of several jugs of wine, spirits, bottles of beer and liquor coffees was beginning to kick in and they were quite boisterous and loud as they circulated...

Now the main problem was that as well as the extra traffic caused by the exhibition, there were also many students there interested in the local history sources available. The signs on the wall clearly indicated that hush was expected here, but not everyone took notice. One of the cabinets boasted "The Mysteries of Sutton Park" and claimed to contain curious items of a potentially alien origin. Now this wasn’t as unlikely as you might think for The Park itself, near Sutton Coldfield, is probably the most ancient and mystical places in the Midlands. It is also home to all sorts of old-wives tales, folk legends and sightings of peculiar creatures who lurk in bushes or pop out of lakes. The cabinets were also supposed to contain dinosaur fossils, evidence of bizarre web-footed beasties, drawings of a ducking stool and details of an area used in Witch Trials as recently as 1982. There were also meteorite remains, not to mention items believed to have belonged to a family of Medieval cannibals, lead by a mysterious man known only as Dr Fellows. This display also included a solid gold chalice found at the site of reported human sacrifices in Aldridge shopping centre in the scorching summer of 1976…

Anyway - the Reference area was right by these displays and during the day I describe this coach party had swarmed through the hall and begun talking very loudly just exactly where they weren’t supposed to. “Shhhhh, please...” warned the Librarian in charge, a Mrs Suki Trendlebee who had worked in the Library for nearly 107 years by this point. (Or so she often claimed!) “This is a study area...” declared Suki, refusing to be defeated by the chattering huddle. This wasn't even a gang of teenagers but mature adults in macks and sensible shoes. “Excuse me!” she repeated. “We need you to be a quieter, please!” Suki persisted when they still all ignored her. “WILL YOU BE QUIET!? Can't you understand me? Are you demented? Do I need to get a translator? NOW, SHUT UP!!” she almost screamed at them.

Yet, this did no good and no one took any notice whatsoever. The visitors totally ignored her shhing.
Well, at least for a moment they did, slowly they all turned to face her. They each met her gaze with a gesture known to but a few – not by blowing raspberries, nor with fits of giggles… Instead they raised their index fingers to their lips and gave a large, loud “SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

“Goodness!” gasped Suki, as she realised what had been niggling her all this time. The shoes, the hair, the pastel colours, the bookish ladyfolk and conservative, tweedy gentlemen. “You're LIBRARIANS!”

“SHHH! SHHHH! SHHHHH! SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” they replied and merely by the powerful yet professional tone of their shush they confirmed that they were indeed, all professional librarians.

“Why! I'll be damned!” cried Suki furiously. “Whatever is wrong with you? Whatever do you think you're doing? Are you drunk?” They were, of course. “Oh my! You should all know better than this...”

“SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” The group were getting out of control but their team leaders who had encouraged them to over imbibe were nowhere to be found.

“I shall call security!” declared Suki, but soon wished she hadn't, for with a shhhh-ing roar the mob began to hurry towards her, knocking over chairs, tables and any number of quietly reading students. The shhhhh-ing rose and the whole room was full of angry, drunken information workers - who after years of keeping their voices down were finally realising how irritating it was to be shhhh-ed.

“THE BOOKWORMS HAVE TURNED!!” reported one newspaper the following day.

“THE GOOD, THE BAD AND THE SHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHY!” read another, nonsensically.

“LIBRARIANS IN SORDID ORGY WITH RELICS!” lied a third, trying to spice things up a bit.

But in all the fuss - it probably took a good day and half to put everything back in it's place - and it was only then that the papers got their real headline of any true value;

SUTTON PARK GOLDEN CHALICE STOLEN DURING RIOT...

Thieves took advantage of the peculiar state of affairs in Birmingham Central Library recently, when visiting Librarians caused a riot. What was not immediately realised was that several items of value on display were stolen at this time, most notably the irreplaceable Sutton Park Chalice, on loan from the local museum. Police have been unable to identify the criminals, despite the presence of security cameras. “None of the librarians arrested after the riot had stolen the item - because they were all searched and made to wear embarrassing Police issue fancy dress during their time behind bars!” declared local Detective Inspector Edward Alexander. "We're baffled as to who was responsible for this heinous crime - but we intend to get our man, woman - or librarian within the next 48 hours!”

But they hadn't... In fact months after, on a train bound North, Shy Yeti had been reading a rather more in depth Sunday Gazette article on the matter, written after the leading officer on the case had been sacked for corruption. It was quite a story all in all and amusing to Shy in many ways. Back in his University days, Shy had studied the ancient art of librarianship, but on qualifying found that, mostly, Yeti’s never read books - before taking on his job with the actor, Simon Yeti. To be honest, it was as much the mention of Sutton Park that had caught his eye. Shy was aware of the Park's reputation - though only vaguely - but it had certainly caused him to read on...

“Ugly looking thing...” he muttered, referring either to the lady pushing the trolley of refreshments, a picture of the chalice or maybe both. “Candy, Candy, Candy – I can’t let you go…” he sung under his breath as he continued to read, whilst devouring a whole packet of Midget Gems in less than a minute, before moving on to a bumper pack of Topics, a box of Fruit Pastilles and some jelly snakes.

Shy was finding his journey a little dull and drawn out, en route, as he was, to the town of Matlock in the Peak District, where he was due to catch a taxi to his final destination. Having completed his mission in Tenby a few days before and having lost his sidekick, Baz Timbearcub, to the Welsh tourist trade – he’d decided to pay a visit on an old friend, Ceri Lane. Life on the road was fun enough, but he’d pretty soon forgotten the travellers life and gone and “Yeti-magicked” his train tickets. Ceri and Shy had met in Library school and had enjoyed a common interest in music and films. They’d drifted for a while whilst Ceri had single handedly attempted to revolutionalise the National Health Service for a bet, only to eventually admit defeat whereupon he’d gotten back in touch. It had been a strange few years – but now Ceri was enjoying being back at work and had recently begun dating a lovely lady named Becky, whom Shy greatly approved of, but had, so far, met just once. “You’ve not seen them in months…” he reassured himself. “They’ll be really pleased to see you – even unannounced!”

Originally, Shy had planned on turning up on the door of their beloved thatched home in Castleton to surprise them with a friendly “BOOOO!” The couple had bought the place recently, after a sudden windfall, leaving Leicester for a more peaceful way of life that seemed to suit them both very well.

“They’ll be really pleased to see me…” he told himself again, having already detected that his two friends were most likely off work on a few days leave. “There’s a definite off work vibe I’m getting!” Shy said aloud, having arrived at the Station and taken a taxi to visit a rather special chocolate shop in Matlock Bath. The chocolate was fantastic and he regularly ordered himself treats from their website. This was the first personal visit he’d made. “Perfect! Perfect!” he smiled on seeing his order proudly presented on the counter. “You’ve done a fine job…” They’d made him a Teddy Bears Picnic scene out of dark chocolate – with the central figure being that of his friend and mentor, time travelling former actor, Simon Yeti. “Marvellous – when I eat chocolate I like to think of Simon!” he explained.

Having picked up his chocolate, he spoilt himself further with a tasty cone of mandarin and squid ice cream, a bottle of fizzy pop and a quick game of shovehalfpenny, before jumping back into his taxi and heading on to Castleton. There was still another half an hour’s journey and having armed himself with luxury truffles and a bag of rhubarb and custard sweets especially for Becky, he settled back to read his favourite journal. Back in the days when he’d had a house, a life and a proper job he’d kept a large collection of magazines from all over the world – including the very first issue of the Spanish language digest “Los Osos Pegajosos” dating back to 1935, and probably worth a small fortune now. But all that had been lost to the “Great Wastepaper Basket In The Sky” when he’d been evicted.

Any scenic views were wasted on Shy as he lost himself deeply in something fluffy and enticing – but in the back of his mind he was still reassuring himself. “They’ll be really pleased to see you – honest”

“We’re here, mate…” called the taxi driver, pulling up in front of The George pub in Castleton and Shy hurriedly packed away his reading and made haste to prepare his entrance into village life.

“Thanks, fella!” Shy smiled and handed him the fare, hoping the driver wouldn’t notice that the tip was rather less than generous. The money Baz had paid him from Government expenses for all his help in Tenby hadn’t gone very far at all. “Bye now – and thank you!” he called again and waved.

Watching the taxi pull away he grabbed a handful of roadside wild flowers and headed for the cottage his Yeti intuition told him was the one where Ceri and Becky were currently residing. “Oi! Wrong house!” said a voice from the opposite side of the road. “So much for telepathy!” It was Ceri – looking fit and well, his red hair grown long, wearing a blue Kasabian t-shirt and a pair of baggy khaki shorts.

“Oh, sorry fella!” Shy apologised. “Didn’t mean to be a pain and I know we usually make plans in advance, but I was passing! I meant to phone – I hope my telepathy didn’t give you a headache, fella? It can be a tad brutal if you’re not used to it – I always forget when I try it out on non-Yeti’s…”

“You never used to be much up on what Yeti’s did and didn’t do!” said Ceri a tad coolly, as he helped Shy with his bags. “Why the change now? I mean you’ve always been the most un-Yetiest Yeti I ever knew… I know you’re the only Yeti I’ve ever met, but that’s not the point! What are you staring at?”

Shy was admiring his friend’s hair as Ceri led him up the pathway of “Mandrel Cottage”. “You’ve grown your fur long! I only just noticed. It really suits you!” Ceri laughed – but seemed flattered. “So, how’s Becky? Is she about? Listen, if this is inconvenient, then I’ll find myself a hotel! It’s just that there’s been a lot going on and I suppose I was hoping you could spare a friendly ear or two!”

Ceri seemed concerned, not cross. “Perhaps unexpected – but never unwelcome!” he said kindly. “We don’t have much planned for the next few days – just to relax!” he laughed as he saw the chocolate bag. “You appear to have brought the required gift for a stay in this household – so I reckon Becky’s going to be more than happy to see you!” By now they were on the door step. “Come on then…” he encouraged. “So, what’s the gossip? Should I be sitting down for this? What miracle are you about to perform? Don’t tell me – they want you to write the script for a Yeti biopic of Tony Hancock? You’ve finally found those missing episodes of Dr Who? You’re getting married – twice - to twin sisters…”

Shy grinned. “Now that would be a miracle!” he laughed. “Although my clairvoyant friend Fatima tells me I’m in for a rosey future with my love life, soon – so you never know! I’ve learned to expect the unexpected of late!” he added – and with that they vanished inside - just in time for tea…

*

“So when’s Becky back?” Shy asked again, as they cleared away the tea things an hour or so later.

“In a bit…” explained Ceri unhelpfully, as he handed wet dishes for Shy to dry. He’d seemed rather distracted for most of the meal and had kept checking his mobile for messages. “I’m sorry – I forgot to mention she was having a meeting tonight. I was meant to be going too - but I’m glad I got out of it!”

Shy nodded. He felt full and rather sleepy – it had been a long day all in all. “This is a work do, is it? A meeting though, not a social thing? Do they really expect you to go - even when you’re on leave?”

Ceri looked at him blankly. “What?” he seemed flustered and quite distracted.

“You were saying it was to do with work, this meeting… Isn’t it a bit harsh to expect you to attend when you’re on holiday? What if you’d been out of the country? It doesn’t really seem fair to me!”

Ceri looked a bit more with it all of a sudden. “Sorry Shy! Yes, it’s a work committee meeting thing… Becky didn’t have to go, she was doing a favour for a friend who’s usually the Chairman and has had to go into hospital… Listen… Sorry, I’m not with it today and I’m waiting for Bex to call actually – bit worried about her car at the moment… Do you want to go and settle in – take a bath or a shower or something whilst I call her? Then, if you’re in the mood we can watch a film together… Take the guest room at the front – not the box room or you’ll get the morning light waking you up, tomorrow!”

It sounded good to Shy and he agreed. “Okay fella. No problem. You sure you’re feeling ok, though?”

“I’ll be fine – fine… Take your time!” Shy headed upstairs, still feeling guilty incase his telepathy had caused Ceri to feel unwell. He’d only brought with him a few clothes that he’d bought in Tenby – but it was enough to require an empty drawer for socks and t-shirts. He’d not been concentrating when he’d bustled into the room to unpack and had quite forgotten what Ceri had said about which bedroom to take. It soon became evident that he had probably chosen the wrong one and that this was, infact the Box room. It was certainly cluttered with all sorts of bits and bobs – but Shy didn’t want to cause any fuss. Shy was about to check, when he heard Ceri’s voice on the phone to someone he presumed to be Becky. “I’ll see you soon! We’ll have to move some stuff tonight, I think – especially now he’s here! Don’t worry – I’ll sort it out! No, he’s ok – in the bath! I’ve put him in the spare room. It’ll be fine…”

Shy had forgotten about the shower, so hurried into the bathroom to start running the water. By the time he returned to the room to fetch a towel, all had gone quiet downstairs. “You’ve SO come at the wrong time, Shy!” he told himself. “They’re busy but too polite to say so! What were you thinking, just turning up like that. You’re going to have to move on, tomorrow! Find somewhere else to go…”

As he muttered away to himself and in search of his sponge, Shy absentmindedly opened the wrong cupboard and a box of newspapers fell out at him and scattered itself across the floor. Something else, which had been perched on top of the box also clattered to the floor and rolled under the bed. The box wasn’t broken but rather bizarrely had the words “THE DEVIL’S ARSE” scrawled on the lid in marker pen. Hurriedly, Shy began collecting up the newspapers; cuttings that seemed to concern various crime cases in both the UK and Europe in the past year or so. It was only when he reached under the bed that both his paws and his eyes rested on what he’d found and he begun to realise that something was odd.

“Oi Yeti!” Shy turned guiltily to find Ceri standing in the doorway. “I said the Spare room - not the box room! I should have known better – you always were hopeless remembering stuff!” Shy blushed. “I didn’t really want you coming in here – but it’s rather too late now! Do you recognise what it is you’ve found?” he asked, indicating the trinket that the Yeti had so recently retrieved from the floor.

Shy gulped, wondering if he could somehow make a quick exit out of the window. “I saw it in a newspaper this morning, as it happens…” he confirmed, “It’s much shinier in real life, isn’t it…”

Ceri took it from him and held it to the light. “Yes, it is rather…” he agreed. “This is the Chalice of Sutton Park. We stole it from Birmingham Central Library a while back… It’s part of our collection!”

“Going somewhere Shy?” a sudden voice in his ear made the Yeti jump, in the process of edging towards the window. It was Becky, of course and she was blocking the way out, perched on the window sill two floors up. “How are you?”she grinned. “Seems you’ve just learnt our guilty secret…”

Ceri nodded reluctantly. “Which means we’re going to need to have a really serious conversation about a number of things!” he sounded deadly serious. “This changes things, mate! You understand?”

Shy did – he had walked headfirst into trouble this time. But, just how was he going to get out of it?

WHAT WILL HAPPEN NEXT? HOW WILL SHY COPE WITH FINDING OUT THAT HIS FRIEND'S ARE INFACT BIG TIME CRIMINALS??? HOW WILL THEY DEAL WITH HIM... *GULP!*

NEXT WEEK'S EPISODE WILL HOPEFULLY BE AVAILABLE THE SAME TIME NEXT WEEK - ALTHOUGH I'M OFF TO AMSTERDAM FOR MY BIRTHDAY SO IT'LL EITHER BE UP ON THE 9TH OR THE 14TH NOVEMBER!!!! ENJOY!!

THE TALE OF THE TENBY SAUSAGE - PART 6

2005-10-26T17:10:00.000-07:00

Now, I’m not sure how much you know about them, but the Haggis is one of the rarest creatures that you’ll ever read about (let alone see – or God forbid, eat!) It’s so rare that most folk don’t even think it ever existed – and yet it did and in fact, in some areas, still does!! Rather like the tooth fairy, Santa Claus, the Easter bunny or God – there is much confusion and mystery surrounding its existence – but I intend to set you straight on a number of the misconceptions concerning this curious beastie…

So, no… The Haggis is not just a figment of the Scottish culinary imagination – it was, in fact – a very popular and much hunted beast that once used to roam peacefully across the Highlands – but which, because of it’s popularity, hasn’t been able to do so since the early 1700s. (When I say, popular I mean skins and all – the flesh as a meal, served with Tatties and Neeps and the skins when stitched together made fine gloves for winter.) I won’t go into the exact nature of their breeding problems that led to the drop in their numbers. However, it is strongly believed to be due to the fact that they hated the sound of the bagpipe so very much that they simply willed their own deaths and refused to copulate. Anyway, once they became (almost) extinct, chefs decided that as it was still so popular, a good idea would be to mock up a dish with a similar taste and texture. Rather conveniently, this substitute allowed them to use all the guts and whatnot from the kitchens that they couldn’t have otherwise used. By the beginning of the 20th Century, with so much confusion over the origin of the dish, most folk actually believed that the poor, bagpipe-hating Haggis had never really even existed in the first place.

Of course, the truth of the matter was that the Haggis was never exclusive to Scotland – only found the environment in the Highlands (initially) the most conducive to good living. It is a little known fact that both Queen Elizabeth the 1st and Queen Victoria maintained colonies of Haggi who could swim, take part in outdoor sports and even sing!) However as their habitats and living environment changed many such groups found new homes and travelled South (or even boarded boats to places such as Ireland or even the United States.) Some were smuggled illegally, by tourists – keen to start colonies on off shore areas such as The Isle of Man, The Scilly Isles, The Channel Islands and The Isle of Wight (not to mention some of the quieter parts of Scotland such as Skye – where they had learnt their lesson and deliberately avoided any human or bagpipe contact.) It was these areas – the Islands where they often bred most successfully – but then some of them discovered drugs and pills and stuff in the 60s – lost their libidos and well – that didn’t exactly help keep up the birth rates much either. But even then – some of the more moral colonies continued to breed (within wedlock) – such as on the rarely visited Fairy Islands that our adventurers are currently exploring in this story. Sure, they occasionally have to fight off the odd fairy – but it’s pretty much a safe and balanced place to live. Haggis enjoy crunching on the wings of Fairies should they come close and Fairies aren’t averse to a spot of Haggis if cooked to charcoal. That said, both tend to agree on the benefits of living in separate areas of such Islands…

Back on the Island that early summer afternoon, Shy Yeti stared down at the skins before him and read once again, the message spelt out, which threatened his own existence. “So, it’s Haggis you’re after is it?” Shy called. “Well, you’ll not find the Yeti quite so easy to catch!” he declared boldly. “Just so you know, hunting Haggis is for cowards – they’re slow moving and stupid! About your level McFur!”
“Cowardly and yet financially rewarding! I’ve done rather well so far!” echoed a familiar voice from the trees. “But I really don’t think I’m going to have much trouble bagging you, Shy! You’re going to practically walk into my net – I assure you! I had toyed with the idea of you joining my furry harem – but you’ve caused so much trouble – that both the novelty and the attraction has completely worn off!”

“Thanks!” smiled Shy rather sarcastically. “I must say I’m really so glad to hear you’re over me…”

“Don’t flatter yourself, Yeti! You were only ever a plaything – a trinket! Never anything more! But you’ll sell very nicely as a crate or two of burgers – and that’s the main thing now… There’s always some sicko out there who likes to chew on some really good tough old Yeti meat… Sold to the highest bidder! As for your little sidekick – I think I could make a couple of cheap Cub skin coats from him!”

Shy bit his lip and thought hurriedly. “You’ve caught him then, have you – so my diversion worked!” McFur didn’t reply for some moments. Planting that seed of doubt into his mind had knocked some of Cary’s confidence. “There was no diversion – and yes, I do have him, strung up like a furry Turkey!”
As he finished his sentence the branches of two palm trees parted so that Shy could see through. Sure enough, there was Baz, dazed and unhappy – strung up, more than twenty feet off the ground in a net.

Shy’s watch beeped. Fifteen minutes left...

“Oh! He does look nice up there in his hammock…” said Shy casually – reasoning that the longer he distracted McFur, the less time he would have to catch him and drag whatever Haggis he had caught, back to his boat. “Oh yes… The fear in his face really brings out the colour in his eyes… It’s good!”

“Don’t think you’ll have time to save him, because you won’t!! Don’t think your delaying tactics are going to achieve anything either. I’ve hypnotized some wood ants to carry back the creatures that I’ve caught already – I played the Haggis bagpipe and they all went running – straight into my net! So you see – I bagged a fair few dozen and they’ll all be back at the boat and on their way, by now…”

“Well, how very pleasant for them!” Shy knew he had to keep talking, inching slowly closer to where Baz hung haphazardly from the tree. “So, what about us then? How do you plan to get us out of here?”

“I wouldn’t move any closer if I were you, Yeti!” snapped Cary suddenly. “Unless you want to set off a deadly trap and become impaled on something sharp, sharp and stumpy… Although I intend to kill you eventually I would rather that you reached home alive and fresh before the slaying… Maybe we’ll have dinner first too… What do you say? My shout? JUST MIND YOUR PAWS – MIND THEM!!”

Shy was still shuffling his feet about, trying to get closer and only looked down when McFur really bellowed. One more step would have done it… Across his path was a thin strand of what looked like dental floss that was attached, up in the nearest tree to what looked like a rather deadly, poison tipped bow and arrow. “Thanks!” grinned Shy and then added. “I’ll stay where I am! Oh, might I ask what type of restaurant we’ll be going to – coz I’m partial to almost anything but slow worms and snails! Oh – and Sea Whelk! I come out all blotchy and have to lie down and listen to Barbara Steisand in a darkened room. But anywhere would be good – not MacDonalds though – and none of your pies…”

He was surprised that his rambling hadn’t made Cary cross – he even appeared to enjoy playing along. “What about sausages… Oh, by the way – I thought I should clear up a little question you’re bound to have. The sausages you’ve been asking about – that you ate, were my last batch of Unicorn! So, don’t worry – it wasn’t a Yeti relative! But if you like Unicorn then I heartily recommend Haggis! Have you ever tried the real thing? It’s very tasty and quite an aphrodisiac, don’t you know?” he laughed loudly.

“Oh God… Really! How alarming!” Shy could see Baz sitting upright now, he seemed to be pointing to something – perhaps trying to show exactly where McFur was hiding. “So explain again how you’re going to get us off this island – I take it that you’re awaiting some other form of transport close by?”

“Pelicans!” explained McFur, suddenly at Shy’s side – appearing from under a large Palm leaf. “I’m awaiting a fleet of Pelican bearing a large cage and a comfy sofa to whisk us away from here fast…”

“They might be late!” noted Shy. “You might prefer to make a run for it before we all get stuck!”

“We’ll be fine – they’re due in five minutes…”Cary assured him just as Shy’s watched beeped, again.
“Oh good!” Shy was distracted by the sight of Baz waving his arms as if to suggest that he cause some further diversion. Some commotion or kind of noise. Noise to cover the fact that Baz was escaping perhaps or… “Would you mind if I sung a song, whilst we wait?” he asked. “I fancy a bit of a tune – what about “Love Shack” by The B-52s? I always find that’s a good one to get the pulse racing? What about you? More of Madness fan perhaps? Adam Ant maybe? Bananarama? NOT Wham, surely!?”

“Will you shut up? What’s that noise?” Someone was whistling, a loud and piercing call. It was Baz.

“It’s me…” Shy started to whistle. “Oh yes… It’s me whistling… A little bit of Roger Whittaker – my Auntie Gladis used to be a big fan, bless her blue rinsed fur…” He whistled again. Baz was calling the gulls. “Hey – why don’t you join in? Oh, look Cary? Pelicans!” McFur stopped, having been about to shout again, but finding the prancing, singing, hyperactive Yeti hard to cope with. Looking up to see where his birds were, he saw nothing. Instead, Shy shoved him towards the trip wire. “Time to make a move!” he called, ducking to the ground as poison arrows showered around them. “Take all the Haggis you want – but you won’t take us!” In a few shambling bounds he had made it to the tree where Baz was tied. The rope that held him up was secured at the base of a rather tired looking bamboo. By now, the sky was full of birds, at first they appeared to be attacking Baz, however Shy soon took in that they were actually nibbling at the net – so he hurried to stand beneath the net to break Baz’s fall safely.

“OOOOOOOOH!! YETI!” exclaimed the cub as the net gave way and he found himself dropping – dropping down into Shy Yeti’s paws. “Oh! How heroic, kind Shy! Very good catch! So, where now?”

There was no sign of Cary any more – for he was already heading back to the shore. Up above flew the fleet of Pelicans, but the gulls were trying valiantly to hold them off. “Come on!” cried Shy. “Back to the beach! We can’t let McFur get away with the Haggis – dead or alive…” Shy picked Baz up and sat him on his shoulders. “Stay there will you, I’ll carry you – just mind your head on the branches!”

As they hurried back towards the shore, Shy’s watch beeped. There was now just 5 minutes left!

It was like a sort of surreal vision of Saving Private Ryan – the beach that had been so quiet on their arrival was a scene of full scale war. Pelicans were diving all around them, but seemed to be scared by the wood ants and were squawking indignantly. Seagulls were swooping, but seemed to fancy the wood ants as a snack and the wood ants themselves were scurrying about madly – dropping Haggis left, right and centre. Just arrived on the far side of the beach was a small boatload of pensioners being hastily organised by Mother Moe, whilst pinned down upon the sand by M.G. Loosecock, of all people was Cary McFur. “Thought you might like some help, Mr Yeti! Not sure where all the birds came from, but I’ve got the blighter you showed us from that photo – found him trying to sneak back to his boat! We’ve confiscated his animals and brought the speedboat around for you! That alright?”

Shy and Baz were a trifle taken back. “Thank you… Well, we haven’t got much time now! We really need to get everyone off the Island!” he dropped Baz to the sand. “Hurry Cub! Take the speedboat and I’ll keep McFur busy here! Thanks for your help Major General, couldn’t have done it without you!”

“Ouch!” cried Baz as a Pelican pecked at his head. “What about McFur… We need to get him on the boat too so he can be arrested… OUCH!!!” This time it was one of his gulls. “Bugger off, will you!?”

“I’ve changed my mind…” declared Shy. “Cary’s staying here for good and if I have to stay too, then so be it! There’s no place for someone like McFur back in the real world – he’ll only get out of jail and go back to his filthy ways… GET ON THE BOAT, BAZ! THERE’S NOT LONG LEFT NOW!”

“Listen, Yeti old chap! I’ll stay!” insisted the M.G. “No need to be a hero… I’m an old War dog – I’m happy to stay and face whatever comes! I might get off eventually – but, if not - then it’ll be no loss!”

“GET IN THE BOAT!!” roared Shy, as he picked up the M.G. and his two helpers who had been keeping Cary’s feet pinned down – popping them gently into the speedboat so as not to break any old bones. “THANKYOU EVERYBODY - JUST PLEASE RETURN HOME!! GO NOOOOWWWW!” As he waved his paws he felt a wave of power blistering out from them – a power that sent all the boats and the small yacht bought over by the O.A.P.’s spinning around and off back out to sea.

“Bloody hell!” exclaimed Shy. “Did I do that?” Just then, Shy’s watch beeped. Time had run out.

Over on the mainland there was an explosion that could be heard far across the water where they stood. A fireball shot up from St. Catherine’s Island, but suddenly, all Shy could see was mist! The boats were gone, the birds and ants were gone. There was just him – and McFur. “Oh dear!” gasped Cary, having been slightly winded by the Major General’s over-exertions. “Everyone’s gone and you’re left with me! Do you fancy being my Man Furday?” he teased, trying to get his bearings…

Shy’s paws still throbbed from the power he’d so recently expelled. “I’d rather just eat you than spend any more time with you, Cary!” he scoffed. “But I think I might just choke on the size of your ego!”

Cary’s manner suddenly turned. “YOU’RE TO BLAME FOR ALL OF THIS!” He screeched. “YOU! YOU ARE! WE COULD HAVE ESCAPED ON THOSE BOATS BUT YOU STRANDED US!!”

“Oh really… Don’t be absurd!” Shy snapped indignantly. “After all, it was you who came here to hunt Haggis… We only followed you to make sure it didn’t happen! Those animals are protected – in fact so protected they’ve been declared extinct! I’m sorry – but you’ve only gotten your just deserts!” Shy gave a laugh, mopped his brow and then continued. “Hey, don’t let me keep you! You can always try swimming!” Shy was sweating hard now and not feeling so good, he suddenly realised. “Listen, fella!” he continued, changing the subject. “I’m feeling rather odd! Might be a fever! Are you feeling ok?”

Cary was staring. “You’re on fire!” Sure enough, something in his coat pocket was burning a large hole and giving off large plumes of dark smoke. “What have you got in there? Oh my! Is that turf?” It was too. “The mainland’s trying to claim you back. This place is rejecting you! I’ve left mine in the clearing!” McFur looked as if he was about to pounce on Shy. “GIMME ME YOUR COAT – RIGHT NOW!!” Cary lunged at him, but Shy took a quick step and stuck out a paw to trip him up.

Everything around Shy was looking extremely murky - it was as if he was peering through a mist. “No room at the inn, fella…” he called out. “Only enough space for one in this coat, I’m afraid…”

McFur swiped at him again, but once again, he missed – no – in fact he didn’t actually miss, his hands went right through Shy. “COME BACK!” he screamed. “DON’T LEAVE ME TO THE FAIRIES…”

But by now it was too late. Shy Yeti was lost in a mist and was neither on the island, nor in the sea, not on the mainland. He closed his eyes very tightly and decided not to look around him. At least this was an adventure – it was certainly more interesting than travelling by train, that was for sure.

“Oh hello!” said a voice. “Mr Yeti’s back on dry land – he’s returned to us! Welcome back, old chap!”

“Oh – for all the furry saints!” exclaimed Shy as he sat up and looked around him. He was lying on the tarmac alongside the harbour, with half of Tenby surrounding him. “On second thoughts I’d rather go by train! Anyone got a packet of Murray Mints, I think I’m going to be sick?” Thankfully, he wasn’t.

As he stood up Shy examined the pockets of his coat – which had totally burnt through. Floating in the water below was bright yellow anorak in a similar state – it was McFur’s! The turf placed safely in its pockets had returned without its owner. Cary was presumably still lost out there in the mist – trapped on the Fairy Isle with the Sprites and the wood ants and what remained of the livid, vengeful Haggis…

EPILOGUE

Shy stayed around in Tenby for another couple of days after all this – but was soon getting itchy feet. There was nothing much left of the fort on St Catherine’s Island – the machines having overheated and created a fireball that even melted the windows of THE DENNIS CAFÉ. For 24 hours afterwards, lights danced on the sea in exactly the spot where the Island had been – but by the following morning they were gone. “No sign of Cary then?” asked Baz, once he’d found Shy feasting on Candyfloss near the golf course, at the spot where Shy had first talked with Cary the other day. “Good riddance, I say!”

“Too right… Can’t help but think we’ve not seen the last of him though…”

“People in the town are wondering if they’ve seen the last of you, Shy – you’ve been here all night…”

Shy sighed. He’d not said anything to Baz, but he was concerned about the hovering computers from the fort – how sophisticated they all were. They were gone now, of course – there was nothing left at all – but he couldn’t help but wonder if they weren’t from the same place as the Time Delaying Toothbrush that Danbear had used back in London. They were very powerful for sure – controlling all sorts of Supernatural forces, as they had. But it was too late now to worry about it or prove that there was any connection between the two. “Nice to hear people are missing me!” he smiled as he put away his well-flicked book of local myths. “There were no Corpse Candles, last night! I think that light display will have had something to do with it – but, now those computers are gone maybe that’s it!”

“Weird colours…” commented Baz. “Purrdy though…”

“I was looking at that too…” Shy replied earnestly. “Apparently the colours are relevant – read this…”

“According to ancient tradition, if the light is small and pale blue in colour, the death will be that of a child; however, if it is large and ruddy in colour, an adult in the prime of life will be summoned from this life. In the event that the light is large in size, and either a pale shade of blue or a pure white, then the portent of death is for one who is old and has been ill for some time…”

“Freaky, isn’t it? By the way - they’re right though!” Baz looked confused so Shy explained. “The locals – they’re right that I’m not long for this town! Not in a Corpse Candle sense… God, knows what colour I’d be if I was about to kark it! No – I mean – it’s time I moved on, fella…” Baz frowned but said nothing so Shy added. “Do you want to come with me? Wanna be my sidekick full time?”

Baz looked awkward for a moment. “Hmm. Actually, I thought I might stick around here for the rest of the summer. I’ve come up with a little money spinner that I thought might pay the bills…”

Shy grinned. “Oh yeah? What now? Haven’t they given you a rise for getting rid of McFur, yet?”

“35p!” frowned Baz. “Cheap-skates… But I might be able to recommend myself for a bonus, if I’m lucky – depends how good I think I’ve been… That could get me another Pound!” Shy laughed. Baz grinned before continuing. “Officially, I’m stopping around here just incase the people who paid Cary show up – that Major General fella and Mother Moe are going to make sure nobody gets into Tenby without a passport! Anyway – I need beer money! I’m going to get some masks from the joke store and do guided tours dressed as famous celebrities from the 20th Century!” Baz was keen to see what Shy thought. “What do you think? Sounds good, hey? Guided tours of Tenby by Elvis or Madonna…”

Shy had given no reaction at first, but then he smiled. “You’ve not got the legs for Madonna, Cub…”

“Ok – and if I work the seagull thing in, I’ll get paid by them too. The locals say, if I stay I can choose the best room at whatever hotel I like – free of charge! Cool huh? I’ve really landed on my feet!”

Shy smiled – standing up as he picked up his rucksack. “It’s a fabulous idea, fella – although I’m very sorry to lose you as a sidekick – but I hope we’ll get a chance to work together again at some stage…”

“We will…” grinned Baz. “When I’m Prime Minister – I’ll employ you as my tea lady…”

Shy nodded enthusiastically and laughed out loud. “That…” he sniggered. “Is the best plan I’ve EVER heard in the whole of my furry life! Fancy a Sherbert Dip and a Turbo Shandy, before I go, fella?”

Baz nodded. “Now that’s a pretty purrdy plan, itself!” he agreed. “What a genius you are, Yeti!”
So, with that - off they went – skipping over the cliff tops like two furry Julie Andrews in some cheap production of The Sound Of Music. It was time to move on – but for now – all Shy wanted was a nice pint and something nice and unhealthy to eat with it. Just as long as it wasn’t Haggis!!!

ENJOY A NEW SHY YETI ADVENTURE NEXT WEDNESDAY - 2ND NOVEMBER 2005

SHY YETI AND THE TALE OF THE DIAMOND STUDDED PIE...

THE TALE OF THE TENBY SAUSAGE - PART 5

2005-10-19T10:23:00.000-07:00

Up on the Promenade an angry mob of locals, guests and sea gulls were out on the loose…

Finally, tired of endless nights locked away in their hotels, the pensioners were rebelling… They were putting their foots down, finally; sick of having to sing karaoke songs to ward away evil spirits that they guessed had come to steal either their souls or their very lives. There was a definite anger out there. Why had no one ever told them such bizarre things could happen? They felt conned, confused and unprepared. Who knew that such supernatural monstrosities preyed on mature tourists during casual trips to the seaside?! Singing karaoke appeared to keep the forces at bay but it was also driving them all to distraction. Even though some had begun to deliberately forget their glasses, it was still hard to forget what it was kept them trapped inside. Now was the time to break out and be free again!

“You’re ruining this version of California Dreaming!” scolded Major General Martin Loosecock Rtd. “Half of you are out of tune and the rest just aren’t trying with your harmonies. What happened to you’re “All the leaves are brown…” at the back? You left us in the lurch didn’t you? DIDN’T YOU?”

“Sorry!” chorused a small group of ladies who couldn’t tell their Lennon’s from their McCartney’s. “We forgot the words!” added their leader, a lady named Sue with big hair and a bottle tan. “Couldn’t we perhaps sing something by Barry Manilow!? You forget we have different tastes to you, Major… We’re a wee bit older and more into classical music – which we realise is harder to sing. But, what about a bit of Everley Brothers or Cliff Richard – Jack Jones – or that man who went to Armadillo?”

“JACK JONES? SURELY YOU MEAN TOM?” fumed the M.G. “…AS FOR BARRY MANILOW? REALLY!!!” the ladies backed off a step. “OH - AND IT’S AMARILLO - BY TONY CHRISTIE!” he took a breath at this point and tried to address them more kindly. “Listen! I think it’s fair to say that you’ve all become slaves to your hormones… All those performers are; is handsome men in nice shirts singing lift music!” None of the girls seemed convinced. “Surely, you partake in a little Terry Wogan of a morning? You must be familiar with Dusty, our Cilla or Lulu? Your Kinks and your Stones are all very well, but it’s not music for army men like me! I’m afraid I need something heavier, maybe a spot of Queen or ABBA, Erasure or the Pet Shop Boys! I don’t expect you to be “au fait” but you do need to make more of an effort. You’re in the Army now – my army – so you need to be singing my tunes. I need you up there with me on the front line – be it Rainy Days and Mondays or Blue Suede Shoes!”

“You say you like heavy music!” called one man. “In my books that means Led Zeppelin or Hendrix!”

Loosecock almost sniggered. “I’m sorry, this isn’t one of your gay pride marches! I think you’ll find Hendrix and Zeppelin filed under “S” for Sissy along with Judas Priest and Motorhead! We shall be singing The Seekers, next. Not The New batch – they’re a bit too experimental for my liking! No – the original Seekers! Morningtown Ride, The Carnival Is Over - all the hits! Do we know those?” A few of the group mumbled vaguely. “This time we’ve got to give it some welly – sing with gusto! We must be strident and show the forces of darkness we’re not scared and shall fight them on the beaches…”
“Did he mention why those islands have suddenly appeared out of nowhere?” muttered one lady, who had left her hearing aid back at the hotel. “I do wish he’d speak up! Young people these days…”

The crowd were mostly too intent listening to have noticed the Island and the same could be said for the M.G. “There is someone out there on the Streets who would seem to be the cause of all this!” he began sternly. “He’s only young, but has thick, fuzzy sideburns and a goatee beard – quite possibly the Devil’s bear cub! A fiend sent to test us! Well, we must root him out and show him who’s boss! OK?”

“Is this man you speak of – a witch?” asked one of the crowd. “Like the folk down at the harbour were chanting? Is he an evil Witch cub? Should we burn him? I mean – it’s good weather for a barbecue!”

The Major looked a trifle miffed that somebody else had already thought of a name for their invader. “Witch cub isn’t exactly the word I’d use…” he began uncertainly. “He’s more of an evil wizard…”

“Wizard cub doesn’t have the same ring to it though – neither does Wizard bear?” added another man.

“He’s too small to be a bear! He’s very hairy though… BURN THE WITCH CUB does sound best!”

“BURN HIM!! BURN HIM!!!” chorused Sue, waving her knitting needles about and kicking off her bunny slippers in disgust – but then she paused. “Actually!” She paused in thought. “Don’t burn him, it’ll spoil the meat - just cook him the right amount – just nice – I’ve got plenty of salad going spare!”

M.G. looked a little worried now. “Not so sure about the burning bit, everyone… It might be illegal!”

“BURN THE EVIL WITCHCUB!!!” cried the mob – by now having lost interest in the M.G. as their leader. “Burn him and then let the worms and the seagulls pick his bones and gobble up his eyeballs!”

“Oh! Now, that’s disgusting!” winced M.G., but already everyone had turned away and was heading off down the road to join the harbour mob. “I really think we’re going too far, here! We just need to capture and question the fellow! Come on team - what about a nice sing-song?” His “army” was rapidly decreasing and across the road another hotel window shattered and a walking frame crashed onto the pavement. Feeling left out the M.G. began to hurry after his former team. “Hey!” he cried. “Wait for me! I’m still your leader! KILL THE WITCHCUB! KILL THE WITCHCUB! Wait on…”

*
Meanwhile, a number of small groups had joined together into a larger mob exactly in the area where Baz was hiding. There he cowered, under the first upturned boat he could find, for the garages had all been tightly locked. They seemed to know he was somewhere close and were sniffing him out and calling for his rapid demise. “I never did anything!” he sobbed. “They’re mad! How are we supposed to be responsible for Supernatural storms - Corpse Candles and blumin’ Magical Fairy Islands…”

As the voices grew closer, back on St Catherine’s Shy spat out the last bolt from the fortress door and stood well back. The door teetered upright, no longer attached to it’s hinges. “FALL OVER THEN!” he commanded impatiently and sure enough, the door did just that! His Yeti powers really did seem to be advancing well after all those years of repression. “Simon would be proud!” he grinned widely.

Returning to the now, Shy took his first tentative steps into the front courtyard of the fortress. The space inside looked rather like a cross between a teenager’s bedroom, with socks and pants and allsorts discarded all over the grass, and a Mad Boffin’s laboratory. Along the closest wall stood a number of boarded crates that either still contained, or had once contained animals that he’d never heard the like of before. Names like: Deirdre - The Frosty Footed Tawny Blomtoad.
Malcolm – The Sharp Shooting Orange Penguin Hen.
Roger – The Semi-blunt-toothed Fishy Baffin…
Colin – The Crab-skinned Lake Lizard…

There was more, but Shy was too upset to examine them further – there was more yet to be explored…

Other than the crates and the presumed-sausage making machine which he’d spied earlier, there was also a lot of other rather bizarre contraptions set up around the fort, which looked quite out of place in their new crumbling stone surroundings. Most notably this included extremely sophisticated computer banks, which appeared to hover and protected themselves from rain, by using some form of invisible forcefield. In the corner of the main courtyard were McFur’s other belongings – his clothes, tents and provisions and Shy wished he had the time to explore the whole building. It didn’t look as if McFur had even bothered, but Shy was more curious. From his local myths book he had learnt that at one point the fort had even housed the zoo of an eccentric millionaire. Fitting, really, he felt. Turning back to the computers Shy was shocked as a sudden burst of electrical static shot forth towards the clouds above, from within the main machine. It seemed to penetrate the heart of the storm, as if stirring it up. Was is possible, Shy wondered, that the device was regulating or even exaggerating it or that maybe the machine was also exaggerating the strength of the Supernatural forces too? Quite possibly…

The central computer bank contained a dial that appeared to be cranked up to maximum, with a digital display counting down from 60 to zero minutes. “I’ll bet this is either the amount of time until the Islands vanish or how long until the whole fortress explodes…” Shy mused aloud. “Either way I’m best out of here!” Attempting to reset the timer did no good and even with his entireYeti might, which wasn’t THAT much, despite his build, Shy could only budge it down a couple of settings. That said this did appear to have at least some calming effect on the storm and the sky already looked clearer.

With McFur now just a fuzzy speck on the horizon, Shy had just picked up his binoculars to check on the Corpse Candles when he first heard the cries baying for Cub blood! “KILL THE CUB! KILL THE CUB!!” The O.A.P.s were chanting and it was then he noticed the funeral pyre they were building.

“Oh! The Furry Saints! The Pensioners are going to barbecue him!! Get down there, fella!” he told himself. Pausing, he nearly caught his foot in a hole where the turf had been recently hacked up. “Of course!” cried Shy and hastily gathered up a sample and dropped it into his raincoat pocket. “BAZ? CAN YOU HEAR ME? I’M COMING TO FIND YOU…” he called urgently, via psychic means.

But Baz’s telepathic skills were weak and all Shy heard was a faint whisper. “PLEASE, HURRY…”

*
Using Caldey Island as a marker, McFur had, by this time, almost reached his destination. The Fairy Isles were pay dirt, open access to rare commodities that his punters would pay good money for. Most of them had more than they would ever need and would gladly finance his experiments or supply him with the sort of technology that he’d set up in the fort. “These machines are ahead of their time, quite literally!” they had explained; yet refused to reveal more. “Just bring us the pies!” they’d instructed.

Cary had less than an hour before the Islands vanished again – chances were this was a once only trip too as he’d been told that the equipment would quite certainly overheat and self destruct after one attempt. He couldn’t afford to return empty handed either. Final payment was on receipt of the goods. “There’s no room for failure!” he told himself. “You’ve got to deliver on those pies, Mr! For sure!”

*
“EXPOSE THE WITCHCUB” The pensioners had all congregated on the harbour-side. Rather than M.G. Loosecock – their leader now seemed to be a tall, middle aged lady with short, spiky grey hair who wore a lime green polyester cardigan and denim hot pants and was calling herself “Mother Moe”. “The forces of darkness have come to visit our town!” she declared with great confidence. “This evil Witchcub must pay for his treachery and for the torment he has brought to our homes and families!”

Suddenly, the boat, under which he’d been hiding, was lifted and Baz was revealed for everyone to see. “Y,y,you-you’ve got it all wrong!” he stammered – but what with all the chanting, the sea and the thunder no one seemed to want to hear his story. “I,I’m nothing to do with all this!” he insisted.

“He has furry ears and a cute bobble tail…” one old lady could be heard to comment. “Can’t we keep him? Can’t we make him dance? Dress him up like Marilyn Monroe and have him serve ice cream? Oh surely! Surely, we don’t have to hurt him! To barbecue him would be such a waste of good fur…”

“NO, BURN HIM!” cried the others anyway. “ROAST HIM WITH A NICE CORN ON THE COB!!”

“NO!!! DROWN HIM - DROWN HIM – THEN BURN HIM – DROWN HIM AGAIN AND THEN EAT HIM – JUST TO BE SURE!!!” insisted a couple of furious grandmothers from the local Church.

“I WOULDN’T IF I WERE YOU!” drowned out a new voice in the crowd. “You’ll be disappointed! He’s as tough as old boots and has no flavour whatsoever! I should know, coz I’ve tried!” It was Shy!
The crowd gasped as he strode between them towards Baz. “IT’S ANOTHER OF THE DEVIL’S FOLLOWERS!” cried out Mother Moe. “ANOTHER FURRY WITCH FIT ONLY FOR BURNING!”

“Also for shooting?” added the M.G. “Or selling in a particularly tough game of Strip Cribbage!”

Shy sighed. “It must surely be clear to you all that I am no Servant of the Devil! I’m far too sweet and cuddly for that! And I’m no Cub, I’m a Yeti, Shy Yeti to be precise – renowned poet! This lad whom you plan to roast is my good friend Baz Timbearcub, a fine gentleman on an important government errand, here to investigate top secret and mysterious goings-on in this part of the world! There will be no eating of either of us – do you hear? We’ve come to help!” The crowd remained silent – even the M.G and Mother Moe seemed in awe. “Listen to yourselves! “Burn him! Kill him! Barbecue him!” What are you? A bunch of bloody savages? You should be ashamed – you’ve led each other astray! You should be pulling together to catch the real villain, whereas you’re currently letting him get away with his crimes right under your nose! Your true enemy is currently rowing towards that island! His name is Cary McFur and he’s a crook who’s been tinkering with your local myths and legends – scaring all of you, intent on pillaging the natural fauna of this area to sell to the highest bidder!”

Still, they no one else spoke. To be sure he got his message through, Shy appeared to be working his Yeti magic. “Let the young man stand up!” demanded the M.G., pushing forward to lend Baz a hand. “This furry gentleman speaks a lot of sense – I rather suspect we’ve let the real criminal slip past us! These two men have come to help us – they may look a little unconventional but I imagine that it’s part of some disguise. Are you dressed that way to provide bait for this McFur?” Shy nodded, it was just easier that way. “These two will save us!” continued the M.G. “They’re not here to distract us - they want to stop these fiendish events! We must all listen!” he concluded, frowning crossly at Moe.

Mo thought about it for a moment and then she spoke. “How can we help?” she enquired grudgingly.

“We need a speedboat!” Shy smiled, as he laid a comforting arm on Baz’s shoulder. “A fast one! We don’t have much time and we really need to catch up with Cary McFur before he makes a killing!”

*
Back on the Isle, McFur was busy preparing his nets and traps. He had 45 minutes left to catch as many specimens as possible. Cary wouldn’t need long – he had transport waiting for a quick getaway! His belongings at the Fort would be destroyed when the equipment overloaded, but that was fine. The creatures he’d come to hunt for were close by – his expert knowledge of animal waste confirmed this. There had been many sighting of his prey over the years – despite them being classified extinct. He’d only ever mounted one other hunt and had only then realised how easy the blighters were to catch – for such a high price too! True delicacies! Yet, if anything went wrong he still had his Plan B!!

Back at the harbour, the Pensioners watched Baz and Shy’s departure. As the speedboat faded into the distance, all eyes turned to the M.G. “You’re still sure they really weren’t witches?” spat Mother Moe.

“I’m certain of it! You heard them speak – did they sound like witches to you? They’re government agents in disguise… Witchcubs, my foot…” he shot them all a disparaging look. “I’m a man of the world, I knew it was all nonsense! I don’t jump on the first Witchy bandwagon like some people! I’m not bewitched by them either – you know I’m talking sense!” Mother Moe said nothing now, as if realising that she had lost her audience, once more. The M.G. shook his head sadly. “I have made plans…” he continued. “Incase they need our backup I propose that some of us take a boat out and join them on the Island! I know I’m Army, not Navy – but I’m still the most experienced in warfare here!” Griff, the ex-scout leader said nothing – he’d seen wars in his times, but none involved Yetis. “Do I have any volunteers?” called M.G. and surprisingly, almost every hand shot up immediately. “That’s what I like to see…” he smiled. “Let’s make our dull days of retirement really count for something!”

*
Meanwhile, Shy had been busy instructing Baz on best practice for successful speed boat driving, using all the tips he’d learnt from watching chases in James Bond films. As they steered themselves over to the Fairy Isle, whilst doing all sorts of crazy stunts, flips and jumps over marker buoys, he also gave the cub a quick refresher course on local myths. On top of this, he detailed everything he’d found in the fort, made sure their watches were synchronized and made sure Baz realised that time was short. “We’ll have 30 minutes, fella – no more – no less! If I’m not back, just get out of there or you might get caught on the Island and I don’t want to predict what might happen to you! You don’t want to be stuck with a bunch of fairies, I can tell you! Once we get to the Island we’ll split up – you stick to the beaches and cliff top paths and I’ll head inland! We’re looking for McFur or anything that he might be hunting, ok?” Shy handed him a stout wooden oar he’d brought along. “If you have to protect yourself, just clobber him! Just try not to make it too permanent – a dead villain’s no good to anyone. I’d rather he was caught and sentenced to three years intense toe tickling or whatever the current sentence is!” Shy removed his paw from Baz’s mouth, where he’d placed it to save interruption and was met with:

“Tell that to all the animals he’s stuck in pies – I expect they’d rather be toe-tickled than deceased!”

“Fair point… But murder’s murder and the Police don’t tend to class animal death in the same league - more’s the pity!” Shy paused and then remembered something. “Oh – and look out for tripwires too!”

Once on the beach, Shy gave a wave and hurried straight after Cary’s footprints and into the woods, as Baz was left to moor the boat out of sight, in the next bay, safe away from McFur’s own boat. At first Baz considered damaging McFur’s craft – by either sinking or overturning it – but then he became nervous at the possible problems that might occur should anything happen to their own vehicle. So, instead, he decided to simply untie it and allow it to gradually drift away out to sea. They could always swim for it!! With that he did a quick check of the beach, before joining a path that led to the cliff top. Once there, he soon spotted what he initially presumed to be a rabbit scurrying amongst the bushes. However, it most certainly wasn’t a rabbit!! On closer examination the creature appeared to be one spherical, squeaking mass of fur – with a pair of scared grey eyes peeking out from it’s middle. “Here kitty, kitty!” he called gently. “What are you doing - or that be – what ARE you?” But the ball of fluff didn’t reply and then suddenly, he became aware of a figure behind him. “HEY!” He turned quickly, yet too late to defend himself or attack. Something hit the back of his neck. Baz’s world turned dark…

*
Meanwhile, Shy was still on the Wilderness path. The Island wasn’t enormous, yet neither was it just a few rocks and a tree. So far, he’d seen none of the Fairy inhabitants; a blessing really, as Fairies could be mean and territorial. Hopefully they were all on holiday or something – but it was too much to hope for to be honest. There was less than 25 minutes to go now and just as Shy began to worry whether he’d find Cary in time he saw something that stopped him abruptly. There before him was a message spelt out in what he guessed to be the skins of the creatures McFur was here to hunt – a warning spelt out in the fur of the legendary Haggis: YOU’LL MAKE VERY GOOD PIE FILLING, SHY YETI!

WILL CARY MCFUR WIN THE DAY? WILL BAZ BE ABLE TO SAVE SHY OR IS LIFE FOR THE YETI PIEWARD BOUND?

FIND OUT NEXT WEDNESDAY IN THE FINAL EPISODE OF SHY YETI AND THE TALE OF THE TENBY SAUSAGE!!!

THE TALE OF THE TENBY SAUSAGE - PART 4

2005-10-12T03:03:00.000-07:00

Despite his unsettling chat with Baz, Shy had dozed deep into the following morning. The silly fella had slept hanging from the coat-stand in the front hall of the PIG & PUFFIN, rather than take the short walk back to his own B&B. What with having recognised Cary McFur on the sausage wrapper, those unsettling Karaoke singers and the possibility that he might be hunted for lunch, Shy really hadn’t fancied wandering the streets again, after dark! Who could blame him really? Still, there was much to be done – but at least, he and Baz were a team now. “I've got me a side kick!!” he’d grinned, feeling slightly more at ease and glad that Baz didn’t seem to mind taking the more junior role - despite being the only of them to head his own government department. Leaving a message for the still sleeping Baz – Shy had hurried back to his B&B to wash, dress and breakfast – next stop the Tenby bookshop…

Sure enough, Shy’s books had arrived and he was already four chapters in by the time Baz joined him for brunch at the Dennis tearooms by South Sands. “What are you reading there?” Baz asked and Shy noticed that his new colleague had made the effort to dress in dark or camouflage colours, presumably figuring that they might have to creep up on McFur’s base and that dark blacks and greens were the answer. Shy wasn’t convinced and instead had gone for the tourist look, in a vivid green t-shirt with a yellow logo, navy blue shorts and red socks. “Primary colour overload, mate!” teased Baz uneasily.

“You think so? I’m trying to blend in! How many people out there are dressed like you?” he added, indicating the crowd on the beach. “You might as well have worn a flashing beacon on your head!”

“Oh really!? But you’re a Yeti! A big hulking, hairy Yeti! How many of those do you see here today?”

“I’m sure you’ll find at least a dozen if you look hard enough!” Shy snapped, but knew he was making it up – again reminded how rare Cary McFur might find his Yeti flesh. “Maybe I should wear a mask!”

“What from Giggles?” laughed Baz and Shy remembered seeing the Cub outside the aforementioned Joke Store the other afternoon. “The masks are dead good – but I’m not sure that there’s anything that would fit you! Maybe you could go dressed as President Bush or Tony Blair or someone people like?”

“Oh yes… That’d be marvellous!” exclaimed Shy as Baz attempted to pry the book from Shy’s paw. “Careful!” he exclaimed. “I had to order that especially – I wanted to read more about those local Myths and Legends that McFur was going on about… Sure enough – it’s all in here – the ghost of the feuding mayor – a dozen different accounts of phantom underwear – corpse candles – the magic fairy isles we mentioned before… That said I really don’t think he’d be making sausages out of fairies…”

“I hear they’re rather tart in flavour around this time of year!” Baz joked. “Maybe it’s the Monks on Caldey Island, he’s after… I don’t imagine you get many Monk burgers for sale at Bejam, do you?”

”Who knows. He’s very interested in something – that’s for sure!!” agreed Shy. “But I swear he’s got something in mind involving those Fairy Islands! He’s been up there on the headland, staring through his binoculars since we first got here. From what I’ve read so far, it appears that there was a man from Tenby in the mid-19th Century who claimed to have seen these mysterious islands – but every time he rowed out towards them they vanished before he got there. That was, until the day someone suggested that he take with him a chunk of mainland turf! He tried and well - apparently it worked and he found his fortune there on the island – returned home and lived happily ever after… Which is nice!”

“As well as being a total load of old cobblers, Yeti…” laughed Baz scornfully. “Come on, admit it!!”

“Hmm, we’ll see!” mused Shy as he brushed cake crumbs from his pelt in a very business-like manner. “Anyway – I’m all done here now – so shall we go?” Baz nodded and together they headed back to South Bay to where Shy had previously met McFur setting up his tent. As they walked, Shy told Baz about his poetry, his job as P.A. to Simon Yeti and how Simon had vanished after inventing a time machine. Last heard having tea with ABBA. “That’s where it all went wrong!” he explained. “Simon’s accountants were crooked and drained his bank account dry once they realised he wasn’t coming back! I tried to turn them in, but they threatened to blackmail me – did a good job of telling tales to my fella and well, that was it! Goodbye career, home and lovelife…” Shy explained about his recent concussion and how that had spurred him to try again. “My friends back in London tell me I’m not my old self at all – but then most of them were pretty bizarre characters in their own rights! Anyway, I needed a change – sometimes a Yeti needs to try on new fur and see how it suits him!”

“You’re new fur seems to suit you well!” began Baz, but by then Shy was silent. “What’s up, Yeti?”

“He’s gone!” The campsite, previously so full of Cary McFur’s rubbish was now empty. “How did he know we were onto him, Baz?” Shy asked, as they set about site hurriedly. “He’s not psychic is he?”

“Not that I’m aware!!” Baz had his teeth gritted firmly as if careful not to swear. “This is BAD news!”

Shy paused, then began to fumble for his binoculars. “Just a minute, Baz – I wonder!” he was staring back down the coast. “Maybe he’s set up a more permanent base over on St. Catherine’s Island – that rock in the bay with the fort built on top. I remember, yesterday seeing a tent and other equipment set up there! Could have been anyone, I suppose!” he trailed off, was also gone. “Let’s go check it out, shall we? Looks like there’s been some movement going on up there… This must be Cary’s work…”

But Baz didn’t reply. He was clutching Shy’s Folklore book and was busily flicking through the chapters, as he stared down at something before him on the grass. “…A sparkling circle of dew surrounding some variety of out of season wild flower, such as a daffodil, primrose, blue bell or…”

“A snowdrop…” finished Shy, recognising the flower growing within the ring. “Page 27 if I remember right! It’s known as a Fairy ring – and only ever happens just before the appearance of fairy islands!”

*

Ten minutes later they reached the foot of St Catherine’s Island. “There’s a storm coming!” Baz noted unhappily. Sure enough the sky was getting dark and yet it wasn’t even six O’clock – the clouds were billowing up an evil grey and all the tourists had fled. “So, are we going to try and get into the fort?”

Shy nodded and they gazed up the flight of stone steps which had been carved in the rock. The sea was out enough for them to climb on up to the fort without either of them getting their fur wet. There was a sign marking the island out to be Private property, but the gate wasn’t even fastened, let alone locked.
Looking across at the town they could see lights from the shops, houses and hotels that continued to illuminate the skyline – and in the air, when not drowned out by regular cracks of thunder could be heard the karaoke singers. Not just at one, but every pub – from every hotel!! Shy strained to hear the individual songs but couldn’t pick out separate tunes. However, they were all M.O.R. rock classics. Through the binoculars, Shy could see the faces of the elderly holidaymakers peering out into the darkness at the storm. Standing before one window was an odd little man, who wore a Stetson badly, whilst closing his eyes to play the guitar. Crowded around him were more O.A.P.s – singing what sounded like Bohemian Rhapsody – eyes also closed, but more with fear than passion for their singing.

“It’s just like the other times!” gasped Baz. “Back when I was sleeping on the beach and then when we were in the pub, yesterday. Except this time it’s day – it’s just the sky got dark because of the storm! Look out there, Shy the whole town’s deserted – everyone’s indoors! So, why the singing - now?”
“To ward off evil…” said Shy gravely. “It’s certainly possible – and it’s not the first time we’ve discussed that as a reason, either! Songs such as those are of great comfort to people. Daydream Believer, Sweet Caroline, Hey Jude - they’re like comfy slippers. As people get older and their friends and relatives die – what’s the one comfort they have? For some it’s religion, yet for others it’s old songs that they’ve grown up with – songs they feel safe with! It’s a musical talisman to ward off evil!”

Surprisingly, Baz didn’t scoff but seemed to be in total agreement with the theory. “I see exactly what you mean – it’s a good point! But what about that?” he indicated the flickering lights that appeared to frame the windows where the guests were crowded. “Those lights were in your book, right? They were there that night on the beach, too! At first I thought it the reflection off the street lamps – but no…”

Shy nodded. “Yup! Those are them… They’re known as Corpse Candles… They prey on the old and the sick…” quickly he picked out a passage and began to read; “The origin of corpse-candles dates back to the 5th century. St. David, the patron of Wales, was known to pray that the people he loved, and among whom he worked, should have some kind of warning to prepare them for death. In a vision he was told that because of his intervention the Welsh would never again find themselves unprepared; for always before such an event the people of the land of St David would be forewarned by the dim light of mysterious tapers when and where death might be expected… Spooky, hey Cub? ”

“Just a bit! So, this is something that happens a lot in this particular area?” asked Baz, rather solemnly.

“Not necessarily!” explained Shy. “But you’ll probably find different versions of that story all over the World – and each country will have something similar in their folklore. However, it does figure that they’re sighted here so often because coastal and rural areas are the most likely areas to manifest Corpse Candles! And why? Because so many seas side towns and villages are inhabited by retired pensioners! Back in the olden days a few of the London hospitals used to literally light whole wards using the light from Corpse Candles… Still – you get fewer sighting these days because everything’s changed so much. Somewhere more old fashioned and unchanged like Tenby is perfect though!”

“Did it really say that about those hospitals?” asked Baz incredulously. “You’re making this up…”

“Not at all!” Shy returned immediately. “It says it, right here, Baz! I’ll check with a friend of a friend of mine, Mex Nephur – he’s a Dr – he’ll confirm it! Anyway, what was I saying? Oh yes, somewhere like Tenby is just perfect for Corpse Candles. It’s all on the net if you don’t believe me… But a lot of these supernatural phenomena stopped occurring because our towns and cities have changed so much in the last 100 years. No atmosphere any more, you see. Places like Bournemouth or Brighton used to get Corpse Candles – they still have their share of the elderly population, but these days the spirits don’t want to go there. It’s so tacky! All those piers full of chavs… Shag Me Quick hats! Lager-louts! Much too garish to attract anything much! I met a really slutty poltergeist called Brenda once – she really loved the Blackpool illuminations – but then again she used to get turned on by the tower too!”

Baz giggled. “I can see her point… I’m more into the dodgems and the big dipper, myself though…”

“That doesn’t surprise me one bit!” grinned Shy. “Anyway, I don’t suppose that any of this stuff with the Corpse Candles has anything to do with McFur’s real plans! Although he may be attempting to harness certain power to gain access to those Fairy Isles!” Shy stopped, playing over possibilities in his head. “Could it be possible that he’s somehow able to control these forces? I suppose it’s possible - I’m open to all possibilities – believe you me! These myths and legends are part of everyday life around here and Cary obviously knows his stuff when it comes to pie-perfect mythological beasts!”

With a wave of his paw, Shy ushered Baz on up the steps and hurried after him as a light drizzle began to fall. They soon reached the top of the rock, where Shy had seen the lone tent on his first visit to South Beach and yet now there was barely any sign that it had been there. Crossing the iron bridge that linked the rocks of St. Catherine’s they reached the larger outcrop on which the fort had stood since the days of the Napoleonic Wars. The door was quite firmly locked and all attempts by Baz to scale the walls were met with dismal failure. It seemed there was no getting in from any obvious entrance...

“What shall we do now?” asked Baz – Shy was thinking, but Baz himself came up with the answer in the end. “Why don’t you stay here and try some Yeti magic on that door and I’ll go back down to the harbour and see if I can find some tools or a crowbar or something. What do you say? I’ll be quick…”
“Sounds perfect!” Shy agreed, unsure about letting Baz go and yet he said nothing more. “Steer clear of karaoke singing old folk, fella!” he cried out as another boom of thunder split the sky and lightning sprung from nowhere. “Did you hear that last bit!” he sighed, closing his eyes and trying to channel his thoughts. He wasn’t convinced it would do any good – he never got good reception during a storm.

Rapidly and with good reason Shy was beginning to fear that he’d allowed his friend to walk into even more danger. Sure enough, they did need to get inside the fortress one way or another, if they wanted to learn more about Cary McFur’s plans – but at what cost? McFur’s whereabouts were possibly the most important question right at the moment, although Baz’s well being was more in Shy’s mind. He daren’t even imagine what some scared group of locals might do should they get into their heads that Baz was responsible for the Corpse Candles and all the other troubles that had recently beset Tenby…

*
As it happened, Baz wasn’t the only one out and about in the town. McFur watched the cub, in hiding as he left the island, crossed the beach and headed on down to the boat sheds. Luckily for Baz, McFur chose not to follow him, but instead let himself out of his hideaway, inside a hastily abandoned kiosk that usually sold tickets for Seal trips and hurried down a second road leading to the main harbour.

“Gotta find these tools!” Baz was muttering to himself – oblivious of the presence of their nemesis. As he searched he was distracted a number of times by the voices of hotel guests. Already, it sounded less and less like singing and more like some sort of chanted mantra. The guests seemed to be crowding at the windows of one of the hotels, right by where he was searching, their scared and distorted faces pushing closer and closer to the misted glass. “Just ignore me!” he called and then heard the sound of breaking glass across the Street. Not waiting a minute longer he ran on along the harbour wall...

*
Back by the fort Shy was trying to peer through a crack to see exactly what madness lay within. Alas, this was very little, other than the rear of what looked like some kind of sausage making machine. (Either that or one of those old fashioned dryers you often see in hairdressers.) Also, there in the background sat some kind of computer, flashing away in the background – but he couldn’t make it out.

Suddenly, through the black clouds there fell a ray of sunshine. Something made Shy turn from the door and back to his binoculars. “Oh! For All The furry saints!” he gasped, as he saw what had appeared out of nowhere. “The Fairy Isles!” he whispered. “I don’t believe it!!” But sure enough – out to sea there now stood a whole new land mass and rowing furiously towards it was Cary McFur…

*
Back at the harbour, Baz was still trying to find his way into the garages to find something strong enough to open the fortress door. Already, he knew that time was rapidly running out – there had been more sounds of breaking glass and the roar of chanting O.A.P.s had now moved out onto the streets. It was as if they were caught up in some trance – looking to blame someone for all the peculiar things that were happening. The words they chanted meant bad news for Baz and his continued chances for safety. “FIND THE WITCHCUB! FIND THE WITCHCUB!!” they bellowed, quite insane sounding.

“YES! HE STARTED THIS USING BLACK MAGIC!” agreed another lady and everyone started cheering, everyone but Baz, of course. “FIND THE WITCHCUB! FIND HIM! FIND HIM!” they bellowed. Baz’s paw found another locked boathouse door, but right now his priority wasn’t tools, but safety. He was trapped there on the harbour with nowhere to run but the sea. They were coming for him – intent on ridding the town of their terrible furry plight and there was nowhere for him to hide.

“KILL THE WITCHCUB! KILL THE WITCHCUB! KILL HIM! KILL HIM! KILL HIM!!”

WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO BAZ? CAN SHY YETI SAVE HIM IN TIME OR WILL CARY MCFUR PUT HIM IN A PIE BEFORE HE EVEN HAS A CHANCE TO RESCUE HIM?

FIND OUT NEXT WEDNESDAY IN TALES OF A SHY YETI!!!

THE TALE OF THE TENBY SAUSAGE - PART 3

2005-10-05T00:18:00.000-07:00

“HHHHEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!”

To be honest, Shy wasn’t sure quite what his first step should be… A number of the sheep were taking a liking to his leg and were huddling up to him for warmth and he had, at least, three bunnies in his coat pocket fighting over who sat in the end which didn’t have a hole in. As for what had just crawled into his socks, Shy didn’t dare to imagine! Thankfully the storm seemed to be past it’s worst, but that didn’t help his muddy progress along the path. He’d have to pass the bulls to make his rescue attempt!

“Aha! I’m glad we’ve had a chance to meet like this…” called Shy bravely, now face to face with his opponents. “Not the most pleasant of days, I must say – miserable, in fact!? Really spoils my fur!” The animals stood their ground. “Listen, I really need a word. Whichever one of you bulls here is the big boss today! I do please request that you step out of my way and allow me to pass! You see, someone’s in dire need of my assistance! You know, it’s all very well for you to stand there looking mean but…”

“HHHHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLLPPPPPPPPPPPPPPP!”

Another cry, close by; “I’m trying to get to you, whoever you are!!” bellowed Shy, with rather more panic betrayed in his voice than he’d intended. “But I’ve met some rather belligerent bulls here who won’t let me pass - I’m trying to make some kind of deal with them! It won’t take a minute, promise!”

“MOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!” exclaimed the Chief Bull, which probably meant something like, “How dare you blame us for this – we were here first – go find your own mud!”

“Now, now! I won’t have any of that!” stormed Shy, with a stamp of his paw. “You will let me pass, do you hear me? Do you have no conscience what so ever, you evil moo-ing fiends you!!? A man is in danger? Now – move out of my way, please or I shall order double portions of beef at dinner time…”

All this – and yet the bulls STILL refused to budge!!

Shy could think of no other course of action – talking had done no good at all and he wasn’t going to slip around in the mud any longer, simply to try and avoid the herd, only to be trampled underfoot. So, there was only one course of action left. That said, he had never attempted it on bulls before so he wasn’t convinced that it would work. “You asked for this!” Shy gave them a long, hard Yeti stare.

There was silence.

Well, other than the dripping of rain from the leaves and… then, all of a sudden, a mixture of 16 bulls and cows fell sideways in a dead faint! “Worked then!” Shy sighed. “Wasn’t sure it would – that’s a relief!!” But he still had a person to save! On the other side of the fallen animals he could see a figure clinging to a wooden bridge – waist deep in mud that seemed to drag him deeper and deeper. Between cries for help he was being busily licked on the face by a three mummy cows, unzapped by Shy, who had developed some sort of crush on the man. “Out of the way ladies!!” boomed Shy – and the beasts backed off obediently. “Take my paw!” he called to the muddy fellow and reached out to help. As Shy did so he recognised the lad as McFur’s victim; The cub, Baz. “Are you okay?” he asked worriedly.

Baz appeared to be shaking with fear. “P,p,p,p.please don’t hurt me – p,p,p,p,please – I didn’t mean to set the bird on you!! Please don’t hurt me? Don’t eat me? Please – I didn’t mean to be a such a pain!!”

Shy was rather taken aback by Baz’s reaction before, of course, it occurred to him that he probably looked a bit bedraggled and scary himself. “It’s okay, I’m just Shy Yeti! I’m quite friendly – really!” Baz wasn’t convinced. “I was on your train yesterday, Baz - when that guy tried to sell you dodgy concert tickets! Just take my paw and we can get out of here before this mad bunch have another go!”

“Sorry Mr Shy…” Baz apologised as he allowed Shy to prize him out of his muddy prison – perhaps rapidly realising that it was safer to trust a Yeti than stay, waist deep in mud, being licked by cattle. “I was a bit unsure of you… But I see now that you’re really quite purrdy after all!? You’re alright…”

“I most certainly am, cublet! Now listen - let’s make a move! Would you fancy a wine gum?” Wine gums, warm clothing and a free nosh was what Shy had to offer that night. There aren’t many who’d turn down such an offer and Baz wasn’t going to miss out, he nodded eagerly and took the whole back of sweets. “That’s what I like to see!!” grinned Shy and with that they headed back to Tenby!

*
No more than twenty minutes later they were back in town and feeling a lot better. Baz claimed to have slept on the beach during his first night in town. But tonight was far from dry, in fact it was still drizzly and cold and Shy wasn’t going to allow Baz to repeat those sleeping arrangements. There were no more rooms left at the Kingsbridge, but luckily, Shy was able to arrange a room overlooking the sea at the PIG & PUFFIN INN. He used only a very brief spurt of Yeti Magic on the grey and rather crotchety landlord. They parted company to shower and change and met back later at the Inn for food.

It was here Baz finally spoke up. “I want to apologise about the seagull, by the way…”

“The what?” Shy wasn’t sure what he meant exactly. “The seagull? Which seagull?” he paused. “You don’t mean the ice cream eating one or the one who was after my Wine Gums? Do you know them?”

“They were both mine! I’m afraid…” he confided shamefacedly. “That was me, I’m really sorry…”

“What literally? In a coztume? How did you manage that? You fly very well for a cub…”

“Not actually me in person!” Baz grinned. “But it is my fault and I do owe you an ice cream and all! It’s a knack of mine; in fact it’s sort of my summer job! I’m a fancier!” he added, but Shy was none the wiser, just more confused. “I raise seagulls! Like raising pigeons only coastal and messier! I train them to go for ice creams and then the ice cream sellers pay me ‘coz then they sell more, you see!”

Shy was shocked. “Good grief! I almost wish I’d left you to the bulls now! You cheeky young cub!”

“Aww – don’t be cross Mr Yeti– it’s the only way I know to make more money. I can’t live on what my other job pays me and I haven’t the patience for bar work! I AM really grateful for your help! I’d never have set the gulls on someone as purrdy as you, on purpose!! I just did it randomly… Twice…”

“Oh, stop it! Flattery doesn’t work on me…” Shy paused. “Okay… Say it once more and I’ll forgive you… Actually, save it and I’ll get you to knock up a written declaration later!” he decided. “So, what do you do when you’re not training seagulls to steal ice cream? Don’t tell me – nuclear physicist!?”

Baz paused for a moment before replying. “Not quite… The rest of the time I work undercover…”

Shy had heard it all, now! “Undercover? What? Do you sell umbrellas - extraordinarily large hats?”

“No…” Baz was finding Shy’s attempts at humour a tad waning by now – actually, so was Shy. “I work for the Government but they don’t pay much, which is why I supplement my wage by doing the seagull thing! I can also train dogs to steal kebabs, otters to embezzle and ostriches to wave their tiny wings in a funny manner so that mice can commit acts of pick pocketing, whilst folk aren’t looking!”

“Not much good with cows though, are you?” Baz stuck out his tongue, but didn’t disagree. “So! Which Government Department is it that is so desperate that they feel the need to employ you, cub?”
“The Department of… err… Animal Food Crime… You probably won’t have heard of it – it’s a new one! I’ve not totally decided on the name yet… Might change it! It’s kind of Top Secret, you see!”

“YOU might change it?”

“Yeah. Me… I’m Head of Department!” grinned Baz. “…And don’t look at me like you think I’m too young! I’m 24, thanks! 25 in July! Ray Davies of the Kinks had written most of his best songs by my age! The Beatles were building up to Sgt. Pepper and The Stones had rolled out most of their best albums! So, I’ll take none of your ageist crap, Mr Yeti! I’m not joking you know - this is an official Government department and I’m head of it!” Shy tried to maintain a straight face before Baz hastily added. “However, I freely admit that I only got the job ‘coz my Uncle Timbercub fixed it for me…”

“I knew it would be something like that…” replied Shy calmly. “I just KNEW it…”

“Uncle’s pretty important…” continued Baz and tried not to blush. “Auntie Timbercub nagged him into giving me a job… But I don’t think he really wanted me hanging around his office – so he just gave me free rein to prove myself and about £16 a week expenses to run my own Department…”

“Whatever next!” laughed Shy as they both tucked into pie and chips, as presented by the grumpy land lord thanks to a spot of Yeti Magic. It was well passed Closing Time and the pub was now locked as they sat and chatted alongside their food and a large jug of a cocktails. Baz had ordered it and referred to it as a Turbo Shandy, the recipe for which remained secret between landlord and cub! After a few moments silence, Shy decided to ask his more important question. “Tell me, why are you here, fella?”

At first, Baz Timbercub seemed uncertain, but then, having decided more definitely continued. “Well, initially I got a tip off about a family of squirrels who were in peril, down near Lamphey Palace. They were being stalked by gangs of toddlers whose chav parents were attempting to cook them on a BBQ. Anyway – nothing much came of that until a day or so later I hit the Jackpot! I knew he was in the area somewhere – but then suddenly there was a sighting and he was back - and I was on his tail…”

Shy got there before Baz said any more. “I presume you’re talking about Cary McFur, at this stage?”

Baz seemed surprised Shy knew. “God! How did you know that? You’re not in league, are you?”

“Of course not! I can just tell, from my few brief encounters with him, that he has the makings of an extremely dodgy fellow! I met him for the first time yesterday and then bumped into him again this earlier… I realise the Rock Festival thing’s just a scam – but what’s he up to, exactly? Do you know?”

“Oh yes – most certainly!” Baz replied, as if it was the bane of his life, which maybe it was! “That’s two different questions you’re asking there, Yeti! He’s been guilty of all sorts of things in the past!”

“Sounds like your number one villain then! Do you have many others on your books?”

“Not yet! There’s an old lady in Leighton Buzzard who was caught poking sleeping Turkey’s with a stick – but otherwise, no! Cary McFur, or to use his full name Caruthers Elberto McFur is our Mr Big in this department! He hunts down rare or presumed extinct species to supply to billionaires for food. It’s a little known fact, but a few supposedly extinct species, continue to exist in small numbers in areas away from man – or sometimes in totally inappropriate locations. A flock of Dodo turned up in Milton Keynes back in 2004, but thankfully we arranged for them to be re-housed somewhere safer!”

Shy shook his head, “I’m not that surprised to be honest – I did once meet a Woolly Mammoth… He used to manage a band that a couple Yeti’s I knew were in back in my student days. Nice guy…”

“Really?” Baz was lost for words. “See, some people will pay a lot for Dodo on Rye, toasted Panda baps or Pterodactyl pie!” This surprised even world weary Shy. “Ok! So not Pterotactyl pie to my knowledge, but I knew someone who ate Diplodicus quiche – or at least something like it! People just don’t realise how bad it’s got out there, Shy! It’s evil! So, anyway – now I’ve found Mcfur, I’ve got to stop him once and for all – make my big move! I’ll find out what he’s up to and catch him in the act!”

“He’ll be after something local that he can put into one of his Sausages! Of course – it makes sense!!” Shy interrupted and so with that he began to explain his own reasons for being there in the town.
The previously stern, now rather bewitched landlord returned at this point with another jug of Turbo Shandy. He seemed to be wearing his best pyjamas and Shy could swear he’d put on aftershave. Shy thanked him, as the old fellow waved and explained, rather too emphatically that he was retiring to his lonely single bed, before departing with a large smile on his face. “I think he likes you!” Baz grinned.

“Don’t I just know it!? I think I gave him a rather stronger blast of Yeti Magic than I intended…”

“Wedding bells for Yeti!” sniggered the Cub, but Shy raised a finger for him to listen. With the lights low and the Jukebox off, they could now both hear a distant singing coming from somewhere close by. “That’ll be the pensioners doing Karaoke down at the hotel a few streets away! It’s a bit odd actually!”

“Surprise me…” said Shy reluctantly. “For what sinister reasons do they sit up singing all night long?”

“There are lots of pensioners here – they come to relax or to retire and a lot of the hotels do these O.A.P. holiday packages… When I was sleeping outside on the beach last night I could hear them all singing. It wasn’t just that hotel – but pretty much all over town! God knows why! It went on until dawn – thank goodness it gets light early as it’s the summer, but well – it was like they were singing as if their lives depended on it! All sorts of tunes – but singing them to ward something off, almost!”

“You’re right! That IS bizarre!” agreed Shy. For now, the chorus from outside seemed swept away by a change in the breeze and before long their talk returned to sausages. “From what you’ve said so far, Baz – it rather looks as if McFur is for something specific! But what could it be? I’ve already tried every local sausage made here in Tenby, but none were quite like that one I ate back in London…” he handed Baz the wrapper that he’d brought along with him, as he continued, “So, Mcfur arrives here with some ludicrous cover story – all meant to disguise his true motives! But what’s he after exactly?”

Baz frowned. “Well, not me that’s for sure! Cub meat isn’t especially rare – but he might well have his eye on you, Shy… Not just for his bed – but for a pie filling to boot! I’d watch out if I were you…”

Shy was horrified. “Do you really think so?” he tried not to gasp his surprise. “But surely nobody wants to eat Yeti! Anyway – he was heading down here even before he knew I was going to arrive…”

“Could have been a lure, somehow?”suggested Baz, but Shy didn’t dare imagine it. Some kind of grand conspiracy by an old enemy? But he didn’t have many of those, as yet. “Ok, so maybe not! What if he came to track down those bizarre Fairy Islands, you mentioned! Bizarre Fairy Islands are bound to have bizarre fairies on and maybe they’re the sort of thing rich billionaires like to eat in sandwiches! All the same, now he’s found you, he might just figure you’ll do as a nice sideline if the fairies don’t show up… Yeti meat isn’t exactly everyday supermarket fayre! You’ve must be careful!”

Shy felt quite weak. “But Yeti meat isn’t very nice – it’s full of gristle – much too chewy to enjoy!”

“But does HE know that? Or those that employ him – maybe someone out there likes a challenge!”

“Oh, the furry saints!” groaned Shy dismally and they both found themselves staring forlornly at the wrapper – which now clearly confirmed matters. The face on the logo, although a far younger photo, was quite definitely the face of Caruthers Elberto McFur… “I’m a gonna…” Shy whispered. “I’m burgers or sausages or a nice tasty hotpot! Why me, Baz! Why does it always have to happen to me?”

It was a Yeti’s curse he now realised – not only, according to some cubs, to be very “purrdy” – but also, it seemed, to be edible and splendidly appropriate for some rich billionaire’s dinner table!!!

What will happen to Shy Yeti? Might Cary McFur have his sights set on our furry hero for dinner? Can Baz save him from a fate worse than pastry? Find out next Wednesday...

THE TALE OF THE TENBY SAUSAGE - PART 2

2005-09-28T10:25:00.000-07:00

Despite the near mutinous stares, it wasn’t long before the Waiter returned carrying Shy’s order. This seemed to require about 7 plates and an additional 2 staff members to bring it to the table. “I trust you will enjoy your meal, Sir…” the Waiter was either bowing or collapsing due to the weight of the tray.

Shy soon realised that there was something not quite right about his sausages. It wasn’t that they were cold, badly cooked or poorly presented, but they most certainly weren’t the same delicious flavour that he’d eaten at Anthony’s ruined flat. “Maybe it’s one of the others, Sir…” the Waiter suggested, when Shy pointed this out. “We gave you one of each! You just finished the Vole and Toffee flavour and the next is Seahorse and Cornflake. I believe you’ve already polished off the Hedgehog and red pepper!”

The sound of such peculiar varieties really rather repulsed Shy. He was usually just a common or garden greedy guts and not especially discerning – however what he’d been eating did sound, if not taste, quite disgusting. Soon, he was done – and was most disappointed to discover that none of the sausages on his plate were the variety he’d been looking for. “You see…” he explained to the Waiter when he came to collect the plates. “I was particularly seeking the Tenby Sausage on this wrapper…”

“Well, I’m sorry Sir - we didn’t have that particular brand! These are our own recipes and as far as we are aware only our restaurant serves any authentic sausage meat dish made here in this town! Those which you have detail of must therefore be inferior… Sorry to have to break it to you, so harshly….”

“Don’t apologise. It would appear that you’re right! Is this the first you’ve heard of a rival?” The waiter shrugged, which Shy took to mean Yes! “Well, I’m here to investigate! I’ll keep you posted!”

The Waiter seemed keen enough about the idea and Shy could see the Chef peering with great interest around the kitchen door. “If you do that then we might even give you a free dinner…” he called out.

“Very well.” agreed Shy. “Done… And may I add – these sausages are much nicer than your rival’s!”
This was a lie – but as Shy knew, it never hurts to butter up anyone who is offering you free food.

“Thank you!” bowed the waiter, “This is quite some mystery isn’t it, Sir?” he took another look at the wrapper. “I’ll bet they don’t have Sea-snail and Brie sausages in their range – that’s our speciality!”

“I don’t imagine for a minute that they do!” agreed Shy, “I’ll pick up where I left off - tomorrow…” he announced and with that ordered a large Black Forest Gateau to himself and settled down with a liquor coffee and a head full of complications. He’d soon sort matters out. That A YETI’S speciality…

*
Shy slept well that first night in Tenby. He had sat up late eating chocolate-coated Welsh cakes and drinking extra strong cocoa, which he’d brought with him from London and there’d been a rather intriguing documentary on television about a famous author who had been murdered by a pack of Badgers. Following that, he’d watched an old film, rather obscurely titled Watch Out, Scaredy Cat!! This was all about sinister kittens on the loose in Dublin during the Potato Famine, which had, quite genuinely, left Shy shaking under the duvet for at least 20 minutes before he’d fallen asleep. He had slept eventually and very well too – almost missing breakfast! Needless to say, he made it down in time – still in his pyjamas, fur net and bunny slippers – but thankfully everyone else had also slept late and were dressed just the same. Neither guests, nor the room where they all ate are worth describing – the food was good – all the usual – including sausages – just not the right sort… Tasty though…

Soon after breakfast, Shy set back out along the front, beyond the harbour, passed the old castle ruins and The Dennis Teashop onto South beach where the boats came to collect tourists for day trips to Caldey Island and for Seal watching. There in the bay, stood St. Catherine’s, a large rock just off the beach with a fort on top, which was supposedly inaccessible to the public, although someone appeared to be camping up there, just at the moment. Wandering along the shore, Shy even allowed himself to paddle and was almost having fun, until his paws began to sink and he nearly tripped over his own wet fur in the process. “Careful Yeti…” he scolded himself, embarrassed that he might have been seen or overheard. “Hey – watch it!” he spluttered, almost forgetting his paws and falling over again.

A minute or so later, the Church clock struck eleven and Shy took himself across to the nearest beach café and ordered tea and a great slab of fruit cake – making notes in his poetry book that this particular establishment did not “…sell sausages of any kind…” On his way out, Shy got himself a double scoop of Avacado and Prune ice cream and was just heading up from the beach by the golf course to walk along the headland, when to his shock there came a squawking noise and a seagull the size of a small lamb dived down to grab his ice cream and the shock of the attack caused him to drop the empty cone.

“You… YOU!!!!” he could not think of an appropriate insult, but by now the gull was gone…

“BULLSEYE!!”

“Pardon?” Shy had hoped he’d not been seen, but sadly this wasn’t the case and he’d been viewed through binoculars, by a figure up on the headland. Shy certainly wasn’t in the mood for conversation, however he recognised the speaker and decided to remain civil. “Well, it’s not especially gentlemanly to steal an innocent Yeti’s ice cream! What’s more it’s hardly cricket to cheer the seagull on, sir!”

“Well, I’m neither a gentleman, nor a cricket player – so I can’t say I know…” replied the furry voyeur. “Never mind ey? I have acres of doughnuts and a large pool of Pimms up here in the tent… No need for introductions – for you are Shy Yeti, former mentor of the late Simon Yeti. I, myself am Cary McFur – you’ll recall me from the train yesterday! You were trying to pretend to be asleep and I was trying to con a young cub into buying tickets for a music festival, which I’m yet to set a date for!”

The fellow’s confidence made Shy grin. “How remarkably honest of you, Mr McFur… So HOW is the festival going? Have you staged any miracle reunions with any long since deceased bands, lately?”

It was Cary’s turn to smile, as he lent out a paw to help Shy up the embankment, holding it rather longer than is normal in polite circles. “Your hearing isn’t the only acute thing about you, Yeti…” he replied and winked rather cheesily. Shy found himself blushing beneath his fur, but said nothing. “The festival is ticking along nicely thank you kindly…” Cary waved his binoculars about – nearly choking himself. “I’m still scouting out a definite location, but this one’s looking good! Nice wide open space – close to the beach and room to expand onto the golf course if needs be! Just don’t tell those damned golfers will you – they don’t half have a poorly developed sense of humour about things like that…”

“Is it totally ethical to be trying to sell tickets to folk when you don’t even have a site or a lineup?”

“No – not entirely! But a fella needs a bit of money upfront before he arranges something like this… It makes good business sense! I’m not intending to rip anybody off – I just need a bit of sponsorship!”
“Perhaps you ought to explain that to people, then! You told that cub on the train, all sorts of stories to get his interest – not that it worked! But if you need folk to invest, then you should just tell them so!”

Cary McFur snorted. “Oh come on! Don’t be so dull and boring! Don’t tell me my business – we’re all grown ups! The festival begins when it’s ready! The cub was smart – he didn’t take the bait – anyone who does deserves to be ripped off! A guy’s gotta try. And before you mention my lack of stars – I have all their numbers – I “obtained” a little black book on Ebay – all I have to do is call! See!?!”

“Oh! I’m so glad to hear you’re maintaining your above-board methods in arranging the whole event!”

Cary raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. “When I’m done I will have big names from the world of music, art, film, literature – you name it! Even one of my favourite poets! Shy Yeti, are you up for it?”

“That’s unfair…” protested Shy. “Now you’ve pandering to my creative side… You might as well just have gone and tickled me under the chin!” Cary looked like he wouldn’t have minded trying it either. It was true though – Shy’s work didn’t have a huge following and he hadn’t expected Cary to know anything about it! He was flattered and yet also a tad concerned to find that his writing had attracted such a dodgy wheeler-dealer as Cary McFur. “You may persuade me to read something – perhaps!”

“Sticking around here for a while, are you, Yeti Bit of a working holiday? Research for some new masterpiece, maybe? I promise to set a date in the very near future, if you promise you’ll perform for me!” McFur smiled again and then waved absentmindedly towards the campsite as he wandered back towards the headland to take another look through his binoculars. “Help yourself to a can of beer or whatever you fancy…” he said. “If you want to take a swim, you’ll find a spare bathing costume…”

Shy looked at himself dubiously, deciding that he didn’t intend to disrobe on the beach anytime soon, for fear of scaring away the tourists. Cary, on the other hand, cut a rather dapper figure, now he was no longer swamped by camping equipment. That said, with his face lost beneath a bushy beard, he did have the air of one of those old fashioned jungle explorers, rather than the sort of person who might be planning a local arts festival. “Are you bird-watching?” Shy enquired, “Or just being a filthy perv?”

“A bit of both…” replied Cary and gave a little chuckle, “Although, I’m more interested in the Green Fairy Isles… It’s all a bit of a local legend – no-one really seems to have ever found them, but it beats all that nonsense about phantom underwear into a cocked hat! Now a Magic Island would really be somewhere cool to stage a pop festival, don’t you think? What was it you were here for again, Shy?”

“I had considered working on a factual piece…” he blurted, now suddenly called to provide a reason for his arrival in town. “Fine Restaurants Of Pembrokeshire! It’s rather a specialist niche – but I’m very fond of this part of the world and it’s fine Welsh cuisine… Especially the sausages…”

Cary frowned, “I’m vegetarian myself! Make sure you do a veggie chapter, won’t you? Stick a few poems in too. You should really try doing something for the fiction market, you know – you have a unique talent for storytelling, fella!” Shy wasn’t quite sure what to make of that comment – but Cary continued, “I say, are you going to have a beer or not… I was rather hoping you’d help me hammer a few nails into some cardboard boxes so that I can say we’re making progress on the main stage…”

But Shy’s mind had wandered off elsewhere. “I’ll pop back later if I may, McFur! You’ve given me inspiration to write, whilst we’ve talked and I haven’t got my notebook with me to scribble it down!”

“I have a spare note pad or ten in my tent… Right at the back…” But Shy wasn’t stopping around and was already hurrying off back the way he’d come only a few minutes before. Of course, he had got his notebook, (never went without it!) – but that wasn’t the point. There was much to be done, elsewhere!

*
Over lunch, Shy mused about his next plan of action. He didn’t trust Cary McFur one little bit… His whole cover story just didn’t hold water. Sure, he maintained that his festival was at an early stage, but Shy just wasn’t buying a word of it. All that talk of local myths tweaked a nerve, though and he’d put in an order with the local bookshop for a couple of local guides that were currently out of stock.
Later, having purchased a pair of binoculars of his own, Shy caught a bus to Saundersfoot, a couple of miles down the coast – where he planned to walk the cliff top path back to Tenby, as he mused over his next move. Finding the start of the path had been hard enough to begin with. He’d followed a sign to the edge of Saundersfoot Harbour, crossed a sandy beach and waded through a rock pool. All the while he was dodging another sea gull, this time after his bag of Wine Gums, before finally spotting the path to the tree-lined cliff top. Initially, this way was blocked by a rather big dog, yet here the Wine Gums worked wonders by sticking its teeth together and allowing Shy to make a hasty exit – his wet fur no further ruffled! He’d not expected the terrain to be as rough on the old paws, as it was. Of course, ancestrally Yeti’s were quite unfazed by hills and mountains and what-not, but in reality this wasn’t quite Shy’s own background. His parents were most definitely city dwellers. His mother was a librarian, his father a cross dresser and part time Estate Agent - and the highest hill he’d ever climbed was in Richmond Park, near Central London. But even then he’d been riding piggy-back on a friend!

The paths were still very muddy, after recent rain and Shy had not come prepared for such slippy conditions and although he wasn’t exactly wearing beach flip flops, the trainers he wore had precious little grip. If only he’d packed his DMs, even in the heat. “At least your new binoculars still work!” he sighed – and indeed they were, if only he could be sure of what he was looking for. One thing he had noticed though were the enormous great, big black storm clouds coming ever close over the horizon.

Within another 20 minutes they were not just on the horizon, but also overhead – not just threatening a storm but delivering it. On a June day such as this he would have expected daylight ‘til getting on for half past nine, or later – but today at only five minutes to six, the sky had already turning a dark, gloomy dusk. The wind had got up and was howling across the cliff top and, typical luck, thought Shy – he’d recently left behind the cover of woodland where he would have been able to shelter, otherwise.

“Bloody storm!” he grumbled, ducking his head to the elements, whilst trying to climb a rather rickety stile. He knew he wasn’t terribly far from Tenby and had even caught sight of it earlier, just before the rain. But now he faced a steep slope and many perilous rabbit burrows to prevent any rapid descent. “Gimme Shelter!” exclaimed Shy, recalling a favourite Rolling Stones track, “It’s just a shot away…”

Aforementioned shelter was indeed nearby, this was a pleasant surprise, however he hadn’t expected to share it with every Tom, Dick, Harry or in fact any stray Ermintrude the Cow in the neighbourhood that happened to wander in. But sure enough, he did so. The path itself followed a line of trees where every bunny, every single sheep and several cows were huddled. The track was already a large muddy lake and rain teemed off the leaves to add to the ever growing mess. To make matter worse, one of the fences between fields had collapsed and a number of angry looking bulls were now coming his way.

He was about to make a run for it when there came a cry.

“HHHEEEELLLLLLLLLLLPPPPPPPPP!”

Somewhere out there, in the rain and the mud – beyond the cows and the frisky bulls and bleating, angry sheep – it rather sounded as if someone badly needed his assistance. Shy wasn’t one to give up in situations like these – whether the odds looked good or not. He’d find a way, if there was one – although in the haze of the rain it wouldn’t be easy.

“HHHEEEELLLLLLLLLLLPPPPPPPPPP!”

Shy gritted his teeth. He was going to need some extra strong Yeti magic to help save this lost soul...

CAN SHY ESCAPE THE FRISKY BULLS AND RESCUE A FELLOW IN DISTRESS? WILL HE EVER LEARN THE SECRET OF THE TENBY SAUSAGE OR BE ABLE TO TRUST CARY MCFUR??

FIND OUT NEXT WEDNESDAY - 5TH OCTOBER - FOR THE ANSWERS!!

THE TALE OF THE TENBY SAUSAGE - PART 1

2005-09-21T00:54:00.000-07:00

Shy gazed at his train ticket guiltily! He was embarrassed, to say the least, having errr-ed again by allowing himself to use to those primal urges; his Ancient Yeti powers. He'd been born with them, but never, until recently, succumbed to using them. Still, the ticket had been expensive and the rail service poor! Why should those bonus eating, fat cats get hold of his money when they didn’t seem to care less about their passengers? Anyway, that wasn't the point – or was it? He'd not paid a penny for his ticket, instead beamed furrily and done his extra-special Yeti eye-trick which seemed to make people do whatever he wanted!! Nice if you can manage it. Yet it also still felt very wrong to have done so…

Shy was well on his way now, though. He was on the last part of his journey from Camarthen to Tenby, to begin a new adventure. He didn’t mean to settle in Wales for very long - this was just his first step out of London. He'd recently left behind his friend Anthony, having had a little trouble with another pal, the infamous Danbear, who had become a Monsterous Casserole and destroyed Ant’s flat! Having lived through all that, he fancied doing something a little different and had left a Cub of his acquaintance, named Luke in charge back home and headed off. His life from now on would be that of a wanderer. So, this was a good start – giving his previously dull and directionless routine some well needed perk. Previously he'd been an office bound Yeti - a P.A. for the legendary Simon Yeti – an actor of some renown. Of course, Shy was a poet too - a country lad who didn't much like the city…

Today he was a Yeti with a mission – with a reason to travel - heading for the sea. A rather mad, quite possibly foolish mission, sure enough, but then what Yeti wouldn't trundle the lengths and breadths of Britain, or anywhere really, in pursuit of some good old-fashioned nosh. Some folk chose the Ibiza sun - but a Yeti... Well, a Yeti is guided by the gurglings of his stomach. That's the truth. End of story.

Shy was in search of the Tenby sausage. Why this, you may ask? It sounds a little tenuous a reason to go gallivanting around Wales in search of, I'll agree. But, as discussed, Shy had been looking for an excuse to get away and this first destination was a starting point - this inane pursuit as good as any.

“Well, they were VERY good sausages!” he reminded himself, having been unable to raise the manufacturers by phone. “I'm not going to get any more in a hurry unless I go, collect them myself!”
They were indeed a pretty specialist product and to say they were hard to get hold of, would probably have been a gross understatement, it’s true. They were a MAIL ORDER ONLY luxury that Anthony had obtained for one of his fine casseroles, the remains of which they'd finally chobbled in the ruins of his flat, after the Casserole beast had been defeated (or at least subdued for the time being!) Alas, so soon - the sausages were all eaten and Shy was left with a craving for more and desperate to satisfy his fancy. There was no address on the wrapper, only a logo incorporating a photo of the sausage being lovingly cradled by its creator. “God help me if they're made in Swindon or Woking or something, after all this!” Shy had mused. How wide a range or exactly what flavour he’d eaten only the Tenby Sausage Company themselves knew – for that part of the wrapper had, rather annoyingly, been lost.
“Ooops sorry! Mind my guy ropes there in your tea, lad! Can I interest you in tickets for the festival?”

“Err no – not really!” the voice seemed hesitant but then leveled. “No ta, I’m not interested, mate!”

Shy looked up from his daydreaming and noticed that a man, bedecked with half a campsite on his person, had entered their carriage. Pots and pans hung from every hook on his ruck sack, with what may well have been a compact marquee strapped to his back. He was bothering a rather handsome young cub in a Muse t-shirt, who was far more intent on reading his NME and listening to his MP3s than getting involved in a conversation with any eccentric camping freak who might pass by.

“Go on! You'll love my Alternative Tenby festival - we'll be having all your favourite bands there...”

“What if my favourite band was The Beatles...” replied the guy stubbornly. “Or Nirvana…”

“Oh, they'll be there... Well – I’ll make sure the Tribute acts are, anyway! Oh come on - buy a ticket!”

But the cub wasn't listening. “I really won't have the time - I'm travelling here on other business...”

Campsite guy almost laughed, noticing the label on the Cub's rucksack he wasn't letting this victim go. “Come on Mr Barrie Timbearcub! Baz... You're telling me you're not interested in seeing all your favourite bands at my festival? It's not just music, but authors and actors and playwrites and painters!”

“I really don't think so... Honestly… No, thank you.” Baz smiled awkwardly and returned to his paper.

“Well, think about it! My name's Cary McFur - I'm sure we'll run into each other again at some stage!”

“Do you reckon so? I was rather hoping we wouldn’t - bye now!” Baz snapped, quite bluntly, but Cary didn't seem to notice his withering gaze and shuffled away, leaving the Cub to read in peace.

McFur was coming his way, “Can I interest you...” But Shy cut him dead the only way he knew how - stood up to him as only a Yeti can. With a deep booming snore Shy quite blatantly faked being asleep.

*
It was about ten minutes later that the train pulled in at Tenby Station and pretty much all passengers on board disembarked. At first Shy was convinced that the town had undergone an invasion attempt by seagulls. For a good quarter of an hour that was all he saw everywhere – sitting on bins – on cars and rooftops, as if they'd swoop on down any minute, to pluck and fly off with the locals and tourists to some far off concentration nest run by birds. (Hollywood disaster movie meets Alfred Hitchcock!) The gulls were everywhere. They sat on railings and squawked, some circled menacingly overhead, whilst others still ripped open bin bags to scavenge for food – rather like feathered, web-footed students...

Shy had not made a prior reservation before arriving, but decided to try his luck at the closest B&B to the Station; The Kingsbridge. A lot of the bigger hotels overlooking the bay looked like they'd been invaded by the blue rinse brigade - and the last time Shy had gotten blue rinse in his fur he'd had to shave it all off because the dye had made him hallucinate, until he’d believed he was a bunny named Bernard and had nearly been shot trying to steal carrots from a farmers garden. Anyway, this B&B was close, seemed reasonably quiet and had a free room, at a cheap price. He’d gone and paid three nights in advance, not being totally sure how long he'd stay. Not only was his room very spacious and well decorated, but the owner was helpful with directions and advice. His name was Steve, a shortish gentleman with a Midland's accent, a goatee beard and a liking for dressing with a look that can best be described as “1970s Panto Dame...” It was a look he did with great style and panache, however.

After a afternoon of show tunes and french fancies, Shy felt very much part of the family - so at ease that he decided to ask the big question. “I was wondering, Steve, if you knew the address of the Tenby Sausage Company or for that matter any restaurant hereabouts that would serve them, frazzled?”

Steve's manner seemed to change ubruptly, becoming distant and almost defensive, “I'm not sure what you mean, Yeti... If it's high quality meat products you require then I can recommend a number of establishments around here that would serve you a Pembroke Sizzler or a Bangor Banger - but I'm not aware of any company nor brand produced exclusively here in Tenby..." Shy even showed him the wrapper but it didn't seem to help. Steve soon excused himself and vanished into his private boudoir to listen to “Either some Dolly, some Barbara or the latest collection of thrash classics by The Locust...”

Shy bid Steve good afternoon and headed on out. He wasn't going to take no for an answer, nor give up so easily. On the way up the hill into town Shy noticed Baz, the Cub from the train, stood in front of a joke shop called GIGGLES. He was peering intently at the appallingly inaccurate rubber masks of once great film and TV stars, popstars and celebrities on show. It was rather obvious that they’d not been selling well as most of the supposed stars were either long dead or had faded into obscurity. Shy really couldn’t imagine why the young fella could be that interested in masks of Mickey Mouse’s mother-in-law, “That awful woman from Big Brother” nor “Some bloke, trampled by elephants whilst picking blackberries on Hampstead Heath!” Actually, in fact he seemed quite in a daze over them!!

Shaking his head, Shy sighed and ambled on into town…

At this point I would love to describe Tenby to you… However, I will admit that description isn’t my strong point and Tenby is so very pretty that the detail would take me weeks. It would make it much easier for me really, if you just went and visited yourself, though I realize that this involves a long journey and financial commitment on your part - when I should just accept my responsibility and properly describe the place. But could you cope with that? Pages of waffle about sea, sun and sky, of the architecture or the quality of the pastel painted buildings by the quay. You could, of course, go and take a look on the internet for photos. After all – I could be lying; an agent for the Tenby tourist board. Stranger things have happened! Tenby’s a quaint town with cobbled streets, small cafes, lush sandy beaches and boat trips which allow for admiration of the local bays. There are views from every point; on the High Street overlooking the harbour, from restaurant balconies and hotel windows looking off towards Saundersfoot or Caldey, from the old Castle Hill to either the North or South bays or down to St. Catherine’s Island. I know a few old seaside towns and Dunbar is a particular favourite, but I wouldn’t swap you the views of any other place for those Shy saw that sunny evening in early June.

However our heroic Yeti, rather sadly – didn’t truly appreciate the view - for he was still far more interested in his stomach and more specifically the mission in hand – the hunt for the Tenby sausage…

“I’m afraid we don’t sell those, Sir…” explained the man at the Supermarket dryly.

“Well, have you actually heard of the brand, at all?”

“I’m afraid not Sir… But we do have a Tom Cat and Melon Flan that’s rather a local speciality…”

“I don’t think so…” replied Shy, rather alarmed. “No thank you! I’ll maybe leave that one this time!”

After this Shy tried a couple of other shops before they shut for the day, but found a similar lack of enlightenment at every turn. “We have Squirrel and Seaweed Pate – but that’s about it!” declared one.

At the last shop he visited he even tried some Yeti Magic, (to gain some undivided attention, mind!) but Betty, the old lady who ran the place had very little to add. “I’m not aware of anyone who sells sausages made here in Tenby, Sir… We’ve certainly never sold them! It’s possible that one of the restaurants makes their own or someone from out of town is cashing in on our name…” he’d shown her the wrapper he carried with him but she was still none the wiser. “I’m afraid I’ve never heard of them, dear. Were they nice? Do you know what they were made of? I love a good sausage, myself!”

This, of course, was a very good point! He still didn’t know that and had thought only briefly on the subject, as yet. He’d noticed how tasty, tangy and meaty they were – rather like chicken breast, but with the smooth aftertaste of duck – a hint of Pork – leek and some spices. Of course when he’d had it as part of the casserole it had been cooked with tomatoes and vegetables in a sauce – fried with green and red peppers, heaped with mushrooms and serviced with butter drizzled new potatoes and broccoli.

Shy was beginning to think that he’d drawn a blank when something Betty had said about restaurants crossed his mind. Maybe – just maybe, there was a place that served up local traditional dishes…

“You’re a marvel, Yeti!” he informed himself modestly. “How will they ever cope without you back home in London? They won’t quite frankly – they’re going to just crash and burn. Poor fellas…”

It didn’t take Shy long to find a restaurant that served a range of regional goodies – in fact there was even one that overlooked the harbour and openly advertised a speciality sausage! It was just off the High Street – next door to a pub where the locals were having a sing song. The restaurant had a half bar, half café feel to it and was called Pam-Ann’s. It had a casual, yet smartly decorated style, with red chequered cloths and a polite waiter service. The walls boasted a couple of sea-side scenes and a rather moth eaten looking ship-in-a-bottle took pride of place. Music was being piped in from the kitchen – inoffensive 60s ballads, a bit of Shirley Bassey, some Petula, Lulu, Cilla, Sandy Shaw and the divine Dusty (one of Shy’s particular favourites of that era.) But he wasn’t in the mood tonight… Shy was usually quite a patient Yeti, but not since his concussion and certainly not on this particular occasion.

“I’d like a Tenby sausage, please…” he declared when the waiter came to take his order and he held up the wrapper which he’d brought from Anthony’s flat. “I presume you sell this variety or something very similar – apparently they’re made locally!” the waiter looked at him disapprovingly, “Chop! Chop!” snapped Shy, “A Tenby sausage with new potatoes and summer vegetables – hold the gravy and I won’t be requiring any mustard… I need to savour the unique taste of these babies! Gravy’s nice on a roast, but it can rather drown a sausage! Mustard has it’s place, but on your everyday banger it most often ends up smothering things – though I am rather fond of the French variety…”

“But Sir… There are many… I’m not sure you quite understand…”

Shy didn’t really care how many varieties there were. At least they served them! It was a start. He didn’t want to have to use his powers on the waiter so simply repeated. “I require a sausage – made here in Tenby by local Tenbyites… In fact not just one or two – but twelve please – I’ll happily pay the extra… Skin sizzled to a crisp, please! Firm to the knife!” The waiter nodded meekly and departed to the kitchen to dispatch the order. “Eureka!” he cheered. “At last, I have found what I came for!”

Shy sat waiting, watching as a group of tourists mulled about waiting for a ghost tour to begin, just outside on the High Street. The tour advertised local tales of hauntings from ghostly underwear to Phantom Porpoise – it really did look too good to be true, thought the Yeti. Glancing down at his poetry notepad Shy began to play around with one or two lines of a new composition, “The waiting staff at Pam-Ann’s all have brains made out of cheese… They simply NEVER listen and do not seem to wanna please…” He wasn’t 100% sure it scanned and decided to give up and to try again later… Looking up again he heard a commotion in the kitchen. He could smell the familiar waft of sausages frying (So much nicer than by grill!) and also caught the sight of a rather cross looking chef giving him evils through the serving hatch. Shy gave far harder evils back and the man soon vanished again.

“Ho hum!” pondered Shy. Something about his order was causing concern. Had he spoken too soon? Would he ever get to taste those heavenly bangers again and why on earth was there so much mystery surrounding such food? What on earth was the secret ingredient which made them so very unique?

Hopefully, in the next minute or so he’d have the answer, quite literally, served on a plate for him!!

FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS NEXT WEDNESDAY IN PART TWO OF SHY YETI AND THE TALE OF THE TENBY SAUSAGE!!!!

COMING SOON : THE TALE OF THE TENBY SAUSAGE

2005-09-19T03:17:00.000-07:00

HI!

THE FIRST PART OF THE TALE OF THE TENBY SAUSAGE WILL NOW BE POSTED ON WEDNESDAY 21ST SEPTEMBER AT APPROXIMATELY MIDDAY...

Here - to keep you going, is a brief extract!! See you Wednesday! :-) Shy x

“Well, they were VERY good sausages!” he reminded himself, having been unable to raise the manufacturers by phone. “I'm not going to get any more in a hurry unless I go, collect them myself!”

They were indeed a pretty specialist product and to say they were hard to get hold of, would probably have been a gross understatement, it’s true. They were a MAIL ORDER ONLY luxury that Anthony had obtained for one of his fine casseroles, the remains of which they'd finally chobbled in the ruins of his flat, after the Casserole beast had been defeated (or at least subdued for the time being!) Alas, so soon - the sausages were all eaten and Shy was left with a craving for more and desperate to satisfy his fancy. There was no address on the wrapper, only a logo incorporating a photo of the sausage being lovingly cradled by its creator. “God help me if they're made in Swindon or Woking or something, after all this!” Shy had mused. How wide a range or exactly what flavour he’d eaten only the Tenby Sausage Company themselves knew – for that part of the wrapper had, rather annoyingly, been lost.

THE TALE OF THE BIRTHDAY BEAR - PART 6

2005-09-12T04:42:00.000-07:00

The creature lashed out, calling to him greedily. Shy could hear Dan's whisk, whisking dangerously and knew there was no hope of escape! He just couldn’t open his eyes for those last moments! How could his friend become so bewitched? What had he hoped to achieve. Dan was no stereotypical movie villain, he wasn't intending to explain motive and maybe even felt a tinge of guilt at his actions. So, no - he wasn't going to laugh about it - just watch calmly and be sure the job was done….

Shy felt himself dragged towards the Casserole, as it rose above, to smother, enclose and consume him... He could hear shouting too - above the creature’s frantic sploshing and the evil grrring of Dan's whisk. Something was pulling at his legs and he fell over backwards and hit his head hard against the side of the bath. Shy could hear himself whimpering - crying out for mercy and hoped he wasn't making too much of a scene. “Die bravely, Shy!”he told himself crossly, “Be a big and brave Yeti…”

A highpitched noise rung around the room. Something had hold of his feet – but was taking him away from the bathroom into the hall, then suddenly. “Hey Shy! You can open your eyes now, matey?”

Shy did so and saw things had changed. Before him was Luke and in his hand was the Time Device. “What’s up? What did you do?” Shy snapped dozily. “You didn't save me using that, did you?”

“Just on a low setting, man! It won't last half as long as the other event did and it shouldn't spread beyond the flat... I fell asleep - heard the noise and then I realised I'd been using Danbear's coat as a pillow - the Device was still in his pocket... Are you ok? I don’t expect a thank you or anything…” he added with faux indignance and Shy muttered something incoherent. Luke just smirked and ignored him. “Get your breath back… Don't speak! I’ll just close this bathroom door before Time reverts...”

“But what about Dan? Where is he?” Shy couldn’t see the bear anywhere out in the corridor.

“Ahhh... Well... I think Dan's become the victim of what he expected either you or Anthony to succumb to... Sit up and I’ll show you – but we’ll have to act quick should Time run normally again...”

“Show me what?” Shy's voice trailed off as Luke stepped aside to give him a clear line of vision - indicating the warped, disjointed scene in the bathroom – now he saw what had occurred within...

Luke had fired the Device straight at Dan and the Mutant Casserole, having grabbed Shy out of the way. The creature had then turned to Dan instead and no cleverly adapted whisk had a hope of saving him from his fate. Dan appeared to have fallen back into the bath himself - in fact he was still falling. Already the Casserole appeared to be choking and morphing into him. His face and beard were already totally soaked in gravy and a courgette appeared to have fused itself to the back of his head and was growing steadily - slowly thrashing about in the blood polluted sauce. Shy felt his eyes misting over a little (was it the steam from the bathroom?) Poor Danbear - his once good friend now looked a little like a large and furry balloon that had deflated, as he became consumed by the beast in the bath. He was now it’s ears and eyes, its legs and paws and body from which to sprout and grow from.

A host body.

“That’s quite enough of that for one day, man!” declared Luke once he noticed the Yeti going pale.

“For all the furry saints!” gasped Shy as he took it all in. “Well, he was never like that a minute ago!”

“Of course he wasn't...” Luke agreed. “But think about it - that could have been you!” and with that the cub slammed the bathroom door. “Enough! You've seen enough...” he said boldly, quite a different and braver fellow than before - changed by the sudden need for spontaneous heroics. “We've only got another couple of minutes before Time resumes! Once things go back to normal that creature is going to grow a lot bigger and faster! But right now, we need to get Anthony awake and out of here, okay?”

Shy was already pulling himself up onto his feet. “ANTHONY?! ANT! Wake up now!” this time there was no tip-toeing around and Shy went straight into Ant's room and shook him roughly from his sleep.

“Hey! What’s going on, la!?” exclaimed The Speccy Ant, allowing his Liverpudlian accent to slip out.

“Come on, fella... Grab some clothes if you can! If you can't - just come along! Dan's experiment has gone badly wrong – or maybe it went right, I dunno! Anyway he's turning into some kind of Casserole beast thing... Whatever he had going on in that bath was a parasite that's now consumed him. Luke has it trapped in a Time bubble - but it's breaking free... It'll start to grow – you MUST get out of the flat!”

“Quick guys!” Luke called. “Everything's back to normal and it's trying to break out of the bathroom!”

“Well, thank goodness I was sleeping in my Morrissey t-shirt!” muttered Ant gloomily. “At least I can keep a certain air of sophistication should I find myself left standing in the street in my pants! Imagine if I’d been wearing my Spice Girls pyjamas!” Grabbing his specs, shoes and a pile of shirts he hurried out into the hallway. “DAN! Are you alright?” he called. “Can't we just use the Time Device again?”

“Certainly NOT!” exclaimed Shy. “It's VERY dangerous... Now quickly... Let's get out of here...”

“I suppose my books will be okay for now…” he sighed, Shy wasn’t so sure, but didn’t say as much.

It was Luke’s turn to look uncertain, “Shouldn't we stay to stop this thing - to stop it growing?” Shy paused - the Cub had a good point. “We can't just run away and leave it to devour half of Brixton!!”

To be fair, Shy didn't really see why not - but realised that some responsibility did indeed rest in his paws. Even as they spoke, their list of possible actions narrowed down and a route of escape was blocked. The creature was still finding resistance as it beat hard against the bathroom door, but this was not so with the bathroom window, which it had smashed immediately Time returned to normal. A furry, brocolli-like frond had begun to grow in that direction, through the broken glass and along the outside corridor wall towards the hallway window. Within seconds it had smashed that pane too and was working it's way blindly into the corridor - expanding and blocking the front door.

It was time to think again. “Into the lounge!” Shy ushered them both in, slamming the door, before then piling Ant’s book shelves in the way. “I'm sorry – I’ll buy you new books if we survive, Dan!”

“Yes! Yes, alright... Let me help you!” he agreed, without argument. The sight of the creature rapidly growing in the corridor had obviously frightened him somewhat. “Maybe it'll think we're hiding in the bedroom - maybe it'll expand into that room first before it gets any further down here...”

“It might try both at once...” added Luke and then realised that this wasn't the most tactful thing to say, “Maybe it'll just do one at a time though... You know – to be thorough… Yeah – that’s possible…”

“What on earth is Alan going to say about all this?” sighed Shy, getting his breath back from manhandling a couple of units that were choc-a-bloc with books. “I mean, what are we going to say? Sorry, Dan won't be home for lunch today - he's turned himself into a Casserole! He’ll blow a gasket!”

All this time, whilst Shy had been wearing himself out moving shelves around, he could have been thinking - but luckily Luke had been doing that for him, "Do you have any rope at all, Anthony?”

“I don't think so... I have a sweater we could unravel or the pipe from one of those hookah things I bought when I was in India! Perhaps I could make you a ladder from long spaghetti - I never eat it cos I really rather prefer pasta tubes myself - what's the Italian... I've quite forgotten... What's that noise?”
Ant’s usual cynical cool seemed drained, but he was right - there was a thumping noise close by. It wasn't coming from the corridor - but the room next door. Dan had found the bedroom and was trying to get to them that way. It wouldn't be long before it broke out of the bathroom and went for an attack on the lounge door. “I KNOW!” Exclaimed Luke suddenly “Tea towels!!! Loads of them... Don’t you have a collection or something? Let's tie them all together and then you can winch me outta here...”

Luke was correct about the tea-towels, but Ant was furious. “Let YOU escape? What about us?”

“I’m NOT escaping!” sighed Luke as he begun to work. Around him the floorboards creaked and more and more plaster fell from the walls. “I just thought we could launch an attack on the thing! Take as much of that crappy cut quality, overpriced food that they sell in the store downstairs and bombard it! Spoil the recipe as it were! It may make matters worse - or we MIGHT find its Achilles heel!”

“Top idea, cub! Excellent!” agreed Shy. “Much better than running away! So, is that rope ready, yet?”

“Almost! I must be mad volunteering for this!” Luke sighed, then added. “Why are we all so tubby? Why isn’t one of you lighter than me - then I wouldn’t have to dangle out of this window!” he calmed down to ready himself. “I’m trying to remember a conversation I had with Dan recently about food, he likes most things – I’m trying to think if there’s anything he hates that might help us somehow!”

“So are you trying to kill him?” Ant sounded upset. “If he explodes will it mess up the paint work?”

“I think the paint work is the least of our problems!” Shy began to secure Luke to the tea towel rope and slid open the second floor window, helping Luke clamber over the sill before slowly beginning to lower him down. “Careful now… We need to get you back up on that – unless you can find some proper rope!” Luke nodded – the tea towels creaked and the knots tightened but he made it safely to the pavement, untied himself and disappeared into the shop. “He’s alright!” grinned Shy, turning back to Ant, “This creature is pretty much demolishing your flat! I don’t know whether we’ve even got the power to kill it – or whether there’s anything left of Dan to save, but whatever we do we must at least contain him – stop him escaping or growing! Don’t think I’m being callous – he’s my friend too, but if you’ve no flat at the end of this, but we’ve stopped the creature rampaging down Electric Avenue then it’ll be a job well done… I’m sorry! We can blame the damage on a gas leak if needs be, just don’t start being a drama king about it all – just try and make sure the lounge door stays shut…”

Ant said nothing all the while. He looked like he might be silently fuming. All the same he hurried over towards the lounge door, just as it started to bulge inwards behind the bookshelves that they’d blocked. “Are you going to pull me back up again, then?” called a voice from the Street – it was Luke – back already. He was carrying a couple of full looking plastic bags which Shy presumed he’d paid for, but later learnt had practically shop-lifted by offering no more than a wink. Luckily, by that point the alarming noises from the flats were becoming evident even to the shop keeper below and having a friendly cub steal a couple of bags of cheap tinned peas or whatever was the last of his worries.

“Ok! Get ready, fella!” Shy turned away from the window to call Ant over. “Come and give me a hand Luke’s back already and he’s got a couple of bags worth of stuff here – it’s going to be a heavy load!”

“Dan’s breaking through the door!” Anthony called out as he hurried over. “Let me down the rope…”
Shy was furious, “You do what you want – just you help me get Luke back up here first… CUB!? We’re pulling you back up now? Sit still, hold on tight and try not to lose anything…”

“Okay…” between them they managed to heave him up. Luckily, other than the shop keeper there were very few people about. It was still very early and Brixton was not the sort of place to encourage an early start, (unless you’d never been to bed in the first place.) Luke tried to help matters by pushing himself up the wall by his paws but it was quite difficult for him to manoeuvre whilst holding the bags. Then suddenly, an urgent cry; “Quick Shy… The carrier bags are giving way… Hurry up…”

Shy and Anthony tried to grab both Luke and the bags, so as to haul them all in through the window in one go, but the damage was already done and tins began dropping from a hole in one of the carriers, whilst the handles gave way on the other and half the contents spilled down onto the pavement.
“Oh crap!” sighed Luke, “Bloody bags – I should have brought something stronger with me…”

“Don’t worry…” Shy assured as he unpacked the remains, “All is not lost! What have we got here?”

“It’s mainly stuff Dan hates or that no person with taste can bear – like Badger offal or Marmite…”

“I like Marmite!” snapped Anthony as he helped unpack what remained. Tins of butter beans, frozen sprouts, tins of mussels and what may have been a clam as well as large stinky Brie. “Do you need a tin opener for some of these things? I should have a couple if it’ll help – here they are…”

“Staying are we?” muttered Shy sarcastically, under his breath and then louder. “Yes, a tin opener would be good, ta! But quickly – you were right about that door – he’ll break through it in a minute!”

“I just grabbed all I could!” chattered Luke. “I know he likes liver and black pudding and mushy peas so I didn’t get those – but now I’ve only gone and lost half of what I did get, out on to the street…”

“It’ll be ok…” Shy reassured, aware of a lack of time, “If we can mix up the food in your blender, Ant it’ll make it a little easier to spread around… That’s if he doesn’t get so big the floor gives way! I reckon that shop keeper’s about to get a bit of a shock coming through his ceiling, any minute now…”

“First batch is ready!” called out Anthony and to Shy’s amazement he’d already taken the lids of half a dozen tins and blended up a ikky looking paste, whilst Luke took the tops off a couple more. “You might find some anchovies and a tub of mouldy hummus in the fridge if you take a quick look!”

Shy grabbed the first bowl of gunk and shambled over to the lounge door with it, pulling away the bookcases and furniture that had previously blocked their path and exposing the damage to the door, already done by the creature. Rather than beating a way through, it seemed to have absorbed it, literally soaked into the wood and weakening it until it was no longer tough wood, but rather more like soggy papermache. The creature was forcing it’s way into the lounge now – despite its increasing size.

“Here Danny boy! Lunchtime!” Shy soon realized that the best way to administer the concoction was to dip Ant’s damaged reference books into the gunk, before lobbing them into the Dan beast. Not only did it give the potion the chance to pierce deep into the blob - but it also seemed to have an effect!

“AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW CLAAAAMMMMMMMSSSSSSSSS – I HATE CLAMS!!” it appeared to cry, but it may just have been their imagination and maybe the creature was simply roaring at them. “YUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUK! THERE’S NOTHING WORSE THAN AN UNRIPE BRIE MIXED WITH BRUSSEL SPROUTS… AWWWWWWWWW! BURRRRRRP! BURRRRP!”

“Sounds like you’ve made it angrier, Shy!” Luke called as he hurried over with another kitchen bowl of goo. “We’re going to be running out of tins in a mote mate! Do you want me to go down for more?”

“Let’s see how this lot goes…” Shy began throwing some of the larger encyclopaedia volumes at the beast. “This thing’s either going to die or the floor’ll collapse! Just be sure you don’t let the creature touch you! I’m not sure what might happen if it does – so just avoid it… We may have to evacuate!”

“Last batch done!!!” called Ant. “Oh Hell – it’s coming through the wall here – right into the kitchen! Oh – for goodness sakes, Dan! Look at my beautiful kitchen tiles - they’re smashed to smithereens!!”

Luke hurried over with the last pot of goo, ducking as another tentacle sliced through the soggy patch in the wall. “Throw it all on - then head for the window!” Shy cried, the whole room was shuddering now and bits of ceiling were falling down all around them. “LET’S GET OUT OF HERE! OUT!!!”

Suddenly the flat split in half, breaking away like wet bread from a crust, at the point where the living room became the kitchen. Anthony leapt out and grabbed Luke by the paw and the two just about made it into the safe half of the flat before the floor disintegrated. Shy fell back, limply onto a shelf full of books and watched as the whole building seemed to vanish into the earth, creature and all…
EPILOGUE…

It was about three hours later – as the Church bells next door began to peel tunes by The Smiths and The Cure that things began to return to normal. Alan had called by looking for Dan, but everyone had hidden until he’d gone away because he’d looked like he was really chewing a wasp over him not making it home after Popstarz. There was still no sign of emergency services – but this was really no surprise in that part of town. Buildings collapsed everyday due to arsonists, lunatics or occasionally, monstrous Casseroles. Shy had sent Luke on a mission elsewhere and was taking a break to consider his next move. He was feeling restless already. He and Anthony were sat upon the rubble and books of the flat, busy tucking into the surviving tray of “Speccy Ant’s Original Sausage Casserole”, using empty bean tins as containers and spoons fashioned from the hardboard covers of Classic literature. Shy had made a small fire out of Shakespeare’s plays and they’d heated up the Casserole a treat.

“I put it somewhere safe when the whole place started shaking…” Ant explained. “It took me ages to prepare and those sausages were mail order only and the last I’d got, so I wasn’t going to lose those!”

“Quite right…” agreed Shy gratefully. “I’m absolutely starving and this is really a very VERY good Casserole, fella! You’re right – the bangers ARE marvellous! Where did you say you got them from?”

“Mail-order place in Wales, somewhere near Tenby, I think… You’re welcome to take the details…”

“Got them already, actually! I’m thinking of paying a visit!” Shy was peering into the abyss where there had once been a kitchen, a bedroom, a bathroom – infact where there had also been another 2 floors up and a shop below. “I do hope everyone got out safely…” he sighed. Anthony was looking increasingly guilty. “I hope you see now what can happen if you let Dan tamper with a good recipe – you were supposed to prepare dinner for him – not out of him!” he added and sniggered before it dawned on him that they both missed Dan. Ant was silent as Shy stared on down at the debris, “I’m a little worried about the sewers!” he continued. “Dan’ll make short work of any rats down there!” Shy looked up as he spoke and gave a wave. “It’s Luke! He looks a bit smelly from here!”

Sure enough, he was – but it was hardly any surprise seeing where he’d just emerged from, “Well that’s gone and done it!” confirmed Luke, as he scrambled back up the rubble to join them, “The Emergency Services have finally shown up! I’ve checked the sewers but it’s still too dusty down there to really see – everything seems quiet though! Do you think Dan might be dead or just injured, Shy?”

“Not sure! Having outgrown the flat and fallen through the floor to the sewers it’s certainly going to be a tad bruised, but whether we finished it off, I dunno! I wouldn’t count on it!” Shy admitted. “To be honest I think any damaged bits might rot away and die and it’ll lie dormant awhile to repair itself…”

“You’ll go and check?”

Shy grinned. “No Luke! You’ll go and check! Not that I expect you to find our old Dan down there, all back to normal and untouched but… Well, you’re in charge now! I’m going to Tenby to buy sausages and start my new life! Have some Casserole!” he handed Luke the bowl, before making his way down the rubble. “You’re a very capable young cub, you’ve proved that! Ant will help you, I’m sure!”

“But Shy, you can’t leave… I mean – you just CAN’T!!” Luke protested. “What about your pies?”

“I can and I am! You take care of my pies, Mr – I’ll be back! See you Ant! See you big chief cub!”
Anthony said nothing, but smiled. “I’ll miss you, Speccy…” he said, but too quietly for him to hear. On his way down Brixton Hill on the 159 bus, Shy could still hear Luke’s protests and he grinned all the way to Waterloo. His mind was set on the future - it was time to pass the buck and leave the problems for someone else to sort. “Poor Danbear!” he sighed. “The birthday bear missed his birthday by just one day…” Maybe he’d celebrate it down in the sewers, somewhere. “We never did find out where that Time Device came from, either…” he mused aloud. “I wonder where that got to…”

It was probably lost in the rubble somewhere? Yet another question left unanswered. For now.

Apologies for the late posting of this last episode! A bad cold got the better of me, I'm afraid. :(

To find out more about this story, the characters and to read some of Shy Yeti's poetry and learn more about Simon Yeti you can buy a hardcopy version of this story for £2.50 from BEECHES BOOKS. Simply email Shyyeti@yahoo.co.uk for further details.

This friday we begin a new Shy Yeti Tale - The Tales of the Tenby Sausage - tune in on Friday!

THE TALE OF THE BIRTHDAY BEAR - PART 5

2005-09-02T10:20:00.000-07:00

“We can't let this Party happen!” was the first thing Shy had said to Luke - at some god-awful hour of the morning, on the day Basher had predicted could see the end of the world. “I know my cat’s a bit of a drama queen but we have to take this seriously! I’m not taking any chances! Even if he doesn’t mean the end of everyone’s world – maybe just Ant’s or yours or mine – then we need to be prepared! If one of them is about to die, surely that’s enough in itself?” Luke sighed exhaustedly. “I know you’re tired fella – but we’ve got to go over to Ant’s now! Whilst they’re still sleeping off the effects of Popstarz!”

“Can’t I even have a snooze on the way there?” he begged. “I mean even you had a bit of a kip…”

Shy nodded reluctantly. “Yes ok - but 40 winks is all you’ll have time for. We have big trouble in store Luke - and you know it! You saw what things were like out here and Dan's still got that device!!”

Luke nodded. He had seen. Once Time had returned to normal, he’d made very sure to keep close to Ant and Dan, to be certain that nothing worse happened. “You can’t just run about using dangerous Time Altering Devices and where on earth did you get that thing?! It wasn’t ARGOS, now was it?!”

“Lucky dip at the fair...” Dan had laughed glibly and Ant had sort of joined in with the joke, although he looked a tad unsure. “It was VERY lucky it was me who found it, I admit! But I have my contacts!”

Outside the club, the fire had died away quickly and the man who'd been trapped between the two realities had merely collapsed into the arms of his friend. They were all drunk and - thankfully - he didn't seem badly hurt. Even some of the vehicles had managed to drive away once Time had resumed and nobody seemed clear as to what had happened. The Night Bus seemed to have taken the brunt of the invisible barrier, but there was no-one to give a clear statement as to what had occurred and the driver had been taken away on a stretcher, with a minor head wound. Shy wondered what the official report would say. Especially when the bus appeared to have hit thin air, whilst the damage to the bonnet told a rather different story. Shy had expected them to evacuate the SCALA – but they hadn’t and he’d waited across the road with Basher. By the time the club closed the damage looked no worse than that of a mild traffic accident. In fact it was unlikely that most clubbers noticed anything wrong.

Before Luke had caught up with them, Shy and Basher had scouted around the wall that the little cat had grafittied and found a line of dead pigeons. They’d been perched on the ledge above the entrance to the SCALA and had not survived the full effect of the Time event. “Don't eat them, will you, Basher?” Shy warned - but the cat gave him such a look that he felt ashamed for even suggesting it.

They'd sat and waited by the wall, for a while - but then Shy had fallen asleep and by the time Luke had found him, the venue was dark and Dan and Ant were heading home in a taxi towards Brixton. Shy still felt worse for wear from the Tequila and stiff from sleeping outside – so after stopping for a quick strong black coffee at the nearest All Night Café the two friends had then headed for Brixton.

Shy had explained to Luke all that had gone on outside and although Luke assured him that Dan had promised to return the Time Pause Device to it’s owner, Shy was still very concerned. “Maybe he will take it back – but where did it come from in the first place!?!” exclaimed Shy, “What’s more, who the hell does it belong to and what stops Dan from getting his paws on even more dangerous devices?”

“Are you sure they'll be asleep?” Luke muttered a tad grouchily, once they reached their destination.

They sat in the Park across from a store where they’d bought, and were now eating, slightly dodgy looking tuna sandwiches. Ant’s flat was one floor above the shop and for now looked very much like it’s residents were sleeping. This Park, was at most times of the day an attractive venue for drug dealers and yobs of all ages and flavour. But on this day, with the time at around 5.45 a.m. on a Saturday morning, drug dealers, yobs and hopefully, Speccy Ant’s, were busy sleeping, so that Cubs and Yeti’s got to wait in peace until they plucked up courage enough to carry out their devious plans!

“I’m expecting it just to be Ant there at the moment…” Shy explained. “Dan will have gone home to the wife for now, I’d have thought… Firstly, we need to get into the flat and check out the bathroom! Hopefully we can stop worrying about that blasted Time Device and Dan will have put it back where it belongs! Now Luke, I’ll need you to keep lookout once we’re in. The mornings are very light, he may even be awake already or at least easily disturbed - but we can't check until we've actually broken in!”

“He did drink quite a bit!” Luke added, but looked pale. “When you say "break in" do you mean illegally?” Shy held out a chain of keys, his old spares. “Oh!” Luke brightened. “Well, that's ok...”

“Well - it's still breaking in, effectively! I've no real right to still have these - but I kept hold of them incase Ant wanted me to water his plants or dust his volumes or some such - but it never came about!”

“Alright!” Luke jumped up, running a paw over the blond stubble on his chin with the concerned look of a man who wished he wasn't still wearing drag in a place like Brixton. “Let’s do it, man! Let’s go!”

“Might you want to be taking off those massive heels first!?” enquired Shy slightly worriedly.

“Might not be such a bad idea...” Luke agreed. “Although I think the Mini skirt rather suits me…”

It took a while to free the Cub from his boots – but within half an hour the two adventurers left the Park and crossed Brixton Hill to meet Bakery Road to where Ant lived at Trent House, Flat 3. With no need for the intercom, Shy took the once shiny keys from his pocket and let them both inside. The inner door closed very quietly behind, as up the twisty stairs they creaked to the door of No. 3. This time Shy was even quieter, so as not to disturb Ant’s sleep - careful to make no sound. Door 3 clicked open easily - protesting only slightly when closed and just to be careful they left it on the latch…

“Does Anthony snore?” Luke whispered. Shy shook his head – it was he who was the snorer. Ant was quite a quiet sleeper, but tonight he was breathing heavily and this could be heard from the corridor, “Shall I scout around the front room and the kitchen, whilst you’re getting the bathroom door open?”

Shy nodded and Luke let himself gingerly into the front room. There was no sign of Dan nor any other partiers, as Shy had hoped would be the case. With all Ant’s books and working materials there was precious little room for friends to stop over. The kitchen also seemed quiet – most of the food for the meal were set out ready and nobody was hiding inside the fridge. Luke managed to keep his paws off the trifle - though it wasn't easy and he did snaffle just one small chocolate gateau. Surely, no-one would notice!? There was also a lot of alcohol there for the occasion - but again, Luke was polite - only slurping about half of the punch from the bowl. At least he didn't fall in. Not too far, anyway.

“I feel a little dizzy!!” he thought, as he found a particularly cosy pile of books to rest his head upon.

Back in the corridor, Shy wasn’t having a great deal of luck breaking through the padlock. Whatever had been sploshing around behind closed doors the other day, was today being quiet and not making a sound. What on earth had Ant been hiding in there? Some surprise present for Dan? Fresh lobster? Ice for keeping beer cool? He wasn't convinced by any of these possibilities, to be completely honest...

It was about then that Shy heard a voice that he recognised immediately as Anthony’s. He was talking in his sleep, “Please Dan – NO! This is insane – you mustn’t use that recipe - especially not with those ingredients... That's not one of my cookery books... Please, this isn't what we agreed...” Silence again.

Leaving the door for a second, Shy hurried to see how Ant was, but paused before actually entering the bedroom. It was better not to risk waking him, so instead, Shy pressed his forehead to the door and allowed their minds to merge. This wasn't quite as complicated as it sounded, with his quarry so close, although he did hope to tempt a few answers out of him. “Can you hear me, Speccy? It’s Shy...”

Silence. Then suddenly Ant replied. “Yes Shy, what is it? Not more stories about the world ending?”
Shy frowned. “No, I was just teasing!” he lied, pressing closer to the door, Anthony was hearing his thoughts as if Shy was actually speaking aloud. “So, what was Dan up to in the kitchen earlier, then?”

A pause, then; “He used the wrong recipe - said we should try something new! I shouldn't tell you…”

“Dan won't mind, fella... We were speaking about it earlier... Why have you let him use your flat like this? I thought this was supposed to be a surprise! Tell Alan to keep him away whilst you’re busy!”

“It’s not like that - Dan said no-one must know! But I’m involved now – a collaborator! He says I'm as guilty as him, now! Says I'd get into just as much trouble – that I have to keep the whole thing quiet!"

Shy was concerned, he’d never heard Ant so upset or afraid. “Ok then! But what about the party?”

“Things have moved on... There'll be no party now... We're going to have to cancel it... Dan's plans are advancing too soon! He says by tonight, we'll know if the experiment has finally worked properly...”

“…And that device? The one Dan used at Popstarz! Has that got anything to do with it? ANTHONY?”

“NO! I CAN’T TELL YOU THAT SHY! I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT HE’S PLANNING!!”

Silence. “Anthony? Ant? Are you ok?” Anthony's breathing had returned to that of a deep sleep and Shy caught himself calling his name aloud just as he was surprised by a noise somewhere behind him.

At first he thought it was Luke, before realising it came from down the corridor, outside the bathroom. The padlock lay loose on the floor. It had been the sound of it falling to the floor, that had made the noise. Gingerly, Shy approached it, unravelling the chains as he wondered what he’d find behind the bathroom door. Turning the handle he pushed the door open and stepped into something less like a bathroom and more like a sauna. Things had changed. Something was busily bubbling away in the bath – something that looked like a more toxic version of the casserole that Ant had been making the other day. All kinds of weird and bizarre ingredients lined the bathtub and the liquid within was kept warm by some giant bunsen burner strapped to the base. The floor was strewn with the unused debris; carrots, potato peelings, the stems of hot chillis and the packaging of sausages, of chicken and chops.

“You've seen quite enough now, Shy!” said a voice. “I think it’s time you took a sample - time you took a bath...” Shy spun around to find Dan, hanging from the back of the bathroom door in one of Ant's old dressing gowns. “You woke me... I was on guard - I expected you to turn up at some point...”

“What’s going on?” Shy demanded, trying hard to look brave and use his Yeti powers – but this time, despite all his efforts they had no effect. “What bizarre culinary experiment are you conducting here?”

“No time to discuss it now, old son... I’m not one of those types who likes to talk about my motives before I do the dirty deed… I’ve got work to do, old pal! Casserole needs a few more ingredients and now you've arrived - you might as well do the honours...” Shy could see that Dan was in no mood for a joke, half drunk from the night out, half bewildered and bewitched by his plans and the intoxicating steam from his peculiar feast. Dan dropped to floor level, forcing Shy to back onto the bath – pushing something into his face that, at first Shy mistook for the Time Device. But this one was different. This item looked more at home in the kitchen, but once again it had been doctored. “Get into the bath, Shy! Don't worry about your costume - it'll soon dissolve! Just step inside... I don't want to have to use this whisk - but believe me, I will – and believe me also, when I tell you - it's a very DEADLY whisk too!”

Shy could hear the casserole still bubbling in the bath - it seemed to be getting closer - pulling itself up around him as if it had a life of it's own. Behind him, some kind of carnivorous superheated life form. Before him, one of his oldest pals, Danbear - with a mad, mad look in his eyes and a killer whisk.

One way or another - things looked bad for the Yeti.

Shy crossed his paws tightly – then he closed his eyes one last time…

What will happen next? Will Shy become Casserole? Can Speccy be saved? Will Dan see the error of his ways? Find out next time in the final installment of SHY YETI AND THE TALE OF THE BIRTHDAY BEAR!!!

THE TALE OF THE BIRTHDAY BEAR - PART 4

2005-08-26T10:22:00.000-07:00

When Shy woke, late next morning - under a bush in Hyde Park, he wished he'd not been more strict with Speccy. After all, with his powers - he probably could have influenced him to open the bathroom door. Anthony had commented on how much Shy had changed – which was ironic seeing as Anthony was far from his old self. What WAS going on in that flat? Shy wondered if he was over-reacting – foolish to listen to the predictions of a cat? It seemed, only his trusty Cub in crime believed him!

“What happened? What happened? What happened?” cried Luke, all bouncy and puppy-like, when they met at lunchtime – he seemed about to excitedly explode. “WHHAAAAAAAAT HAPPENED?”

“Okay! Calm down... I talked to Dan and he confirmed the party at Speccy's! I talked to Ant himself, and actually described the message and he pretty much told me to get lost and stop being ridiculous!”

“HE SAID THAT?” Luke sounded totally outraged. “WHY - JUST YOU WAIT 'TIL I...”

“Please, cub... Wooooe now... You must admit this whole story of ours does sound a little bit - odd...”

Luke stopped sipping his latte and frowned, “Yes – but we know it's true – they have to believe us!”

“Of course! Actually…" Shy paused, relating what had happened when he'd gone over to Ant's flat. “I'm beginning to wonder what’s going on… What I mean is, if there's danger then it's not necessarily from outside! That it may be something of their own doing – some surprise Ant might be planning!”

Luke looked all bouncy and mad eyed again. “What? Something like an exploding birthday cake that goes out of control and destroys the world? Or a bad case of food poisoning which turns everyone into zombies? It could be, you know! What about the bathroom? Maybe the slugs came back! Well?”

Shy smiled sadly. Dan had decided that Anthony needed a pet and had planted a pair of randy slugs under the bath and the devils had mated like crazy until one day Ant had come home to find them all having a dinner party in the front room. How rude!! It had taken quite some time and an eviction order to get rid of them - and Danbear had still not paid up for all the damage he'd caused. At the moment he gave Ant one large bag of chocolate buttons a week - but it would take years to fully repay, especially with interest rates being almost a creme egg every fortnight, in the current financial climate…

“To be honest I'm baffled...” Shy admitted. “But we need to keep a close eye on both Dan and Speccy at Popstarz tonight? Are you up for it, fella? I could do with a bit of help on this one...”

Luke grinned, “Of course...” he replied, clapping his paws together eagerly. “I'd be most happy to!!”

“Then I've got me a side kick!!” grinned Shy – and felt rather pleasantly satisfied at that.

*
The SCALA, where Popstarz was held every Friday, was as busy as ever. They’d come prepared with Retro Bar Q-jump tickets and as they handed them to a man at the door, it seemed everyone they knew had shown up. Shy soon recognised Carlos Paella and his feline companion, Juanita who was busily snaffling pilchards truffles, whilst they both lay stretched out on the bar chain smoking and lapping on expensive milk cocktails. “Hi! Ooo-weee! How are you, daddy?” Carlos called out merrily once he saw them, adjusting his gold lame cat suit and buffing his medallion. “I DO like your outfits laydees!”

“Why does he call you that?” whispered Luke, teetering on heels that were at least a metre high. He'd also got a bit of glitter caught somewhere unpleasant and was finding it very difficult to remove. “Why does he call you daddy again, I've forgotten... You’re too young to be his father, surely oh furry one!?”
“Because…” sighed Shy disparagingly. “Basher lived with me as a kitten - and he’s Junita's son...”

Luke remembered. “So what did you two come as?” he asked Carlos rather reluctantly, now realising that they needn’t have gone to such extreme. “So, who was it told you it was fancy dress, anyway?”

“Same person who told you, I expect!” sighed Carlos. “Although Juanita and I have been telling the guys that we’re not IN fancy dress! That we just like to make an effort!” Juanita purred in agreement.

Prankster Dan and his “good lady wife” had arrived in casual clothes, yet delighted in suggesting that guests dressed up. Hence, there was Carlos looking like a glam rocker, Luke looking like some kind of acid-fuelled drag queen, with Shy some sort of mutant cross between Dame Edna, Madonna and a pair of net curtains. “Those two have never forgiven me the time I refused to give them the recipe for my Mother's Ancestral Furry Fruitcake!” muttered Shy. “Sorry - but that’s a family secret nobody shares!”

“He should never have asked...” Luke added protectively. “Family recipes are sacrosanct…”

“Well, at least we stand out, laydees...” grinned Carlos as he lit himself another large cigarette.

“But what on earth has Juanita come as?” Shy suddenly blurted out as he noticed that the black and white cat was admiring herself in the mirror above the bar “It's 2/3rds Ziggy Stardust, a pint or more of Barbarella, mixed with a smidgeon of Olivia Newton John in Grease and little early-70s Pink Floyd...”

“All of that and more... She looks good, yeah?” they had to agree that she did. “She’s supposed to be ABBA, laydees – but she didn’t quite pull it off… Anyway, what drinks are you having, my dears?”

“Back in a mo!” promised the Yeti, dragging Luke away from the bar before he could order. There was still a lot of business to attend to. Soon, Shy and Luke were upstairs in the Rock Music floor. Here all the indie kids and cubs were dancing to Britpop one minute; Garbage, Pulp, Elastica, Blur and the latest single from any number of current favourites; Franz Ferdinand, The Bravery, Kaiser Chiefs, The Libertines - the next. There had been no sign of Dan or Anthony on the ground floor and no sign here – so Shy suggested that he go straight up to the Cheesy Pop Floor, whilst Luke checked out the Easy Listening Bar. “Text me, if they show up! Try and get them into a conversation about this dinner party tomorrow! I’ll see you in a minute... Don't throw your drink over anyone now, will you?"

“As if I’d ever!?!” Luke grinned, remembering when he'd done that once to Shy, one heady night in The Kings Arms and with that the two friends hurried off chuckling, in separate directions.

A minute or two later, up on the third level, Shy found himself shimmying through the crowds to a spot of Kylie. (One of his former mentors favourites!) It was a smaller and more crowded room than the Rock floor and there was no viewing gallery to check out the comings and goings of clubbers.

“Come on! Let’s have a coupla Tequilas for old times sake!” called his friend, David who was dancing frantically up on a podium, a perfect viewpoint, but he couldn’t spot Dan or Ant. David was dressed in what can only be described as armour. “Forgive the costume!” he added, voice almost lost inside the suit. “I came with my other half – he suggested I dressed up for the night and I misunderstood!!”

“Something very similar happened to me!” Shy explained and knocked back a quick Tequila or two before thinking he’d spotted Dan heading downstairs. “Look, I’ll be back! I have to find someone!”

Down in the Easy Listening Bar – the music was only background and didn’t drown the conversation. It was here that Luke had caught up with Anthony, “I think Shy wants a word!” he was saying, “…It’s about the party – about that strange message we received… It really is a genuine warning, you know!”

“From a CAT!” mocked Ant unkindly. “Listen Luke! The birthday party is still going to happen – no matter what you say… Now, what about this drink you promised me? Am I wasting my time?”

“I’m trying!” Luke apologized meekly, “All the bar men seem to be ignoring me – am I invisible?”
“Can I be of any assistance?” interrupted Shy as he hurriedly joined them. “Happy to use a little Yeti Magic! BARMAN!” he called, staring at a passing serve. “Anyone seen, Dan? I SAY – BARMAN!!”

“Not recently… I don’t think that waiter’s seen you, Shy!” sighed Luke, patting his friend on the shoulder, whilst waving a twenty pound note in the barman’s general direction, “Hello!? Drink man!”

Speccy appeared to be finding all this very amusing – especially Shy’s inability to use his Yeti influence. “Poor Shy! You and your newly found Magic don’t seem to have the required effect today!”

“It WILL do once I catch his eye, I assure you… Anyway – who told you about my powers…”

“Dan of course… Said you started using them after your bang on the head… HEY! BARMAN!!!”

Suddenly everything went dead, literally dead – nothing moved except them – not even the dancing clubbers. “Having trouble gentlemen?” Almost out of nowhere, Dan had appeared. “Looks like you need to jump the queue – this should do the trick!” Dan held what appeared, at first glance, to be an electric toothbrush with a shiny, spinning crystal device attached. Shy and Luke stared in shock as the Bear slipped behind the bar and began pouring out 4 glasses of Champagne. “Seems a fella has to get his own drinks around this place… Bubbly for everyone is it? As it is very nearly my birthday!”

“God! Where did you get that thing?” Ant seemed to have grown bored by his drink and more intent on getting the device off Dan. “Not that mail order place again, surely? Oh boy! It’s amazing! Dan!?”

“I made it!” he lied. “I conjured it up out of nowhere! Well, that’s not 100% true! OK, I borrowed it! Listen, I know you’re keen to know where it came from, but I’d have to fluff up your fur if I told you!! Anyway, it must go back tomorrow! I stumbled on it by accident! I’ll get into all sorts of trouble!”

“What is it?” asked Shy coldly, “I mean it looks like a toothbrush but it appears to be diverting Time!”

“…And does a good job too!” laughed Dan. “You’ll note that we’re surrounded by a forcefield which allows us complete freedom – whilst everyone else is suspended. Works in limited areas – such as this building – for a short time. Pretty soon the effects will wear off and Time shall return to normal – but at least we got served, now! See! Something even cleverer than Yeti Magic, Shy – and I even intend to pay for these!” he added snidely, referring to Shy’s recent, occasionally dishonest use of his powers. “Hurray up Yeti… You’re free to run amongst the crowds until Time begins again – I’m sure you could swipe a few wallets if you’re really intent on becoming some sort of furry dandy highwayman!”

Shy was alarmed, in fact Shy was VERY alarmed and turned to Luke. “Keep an eye on those two jokers and try and stop them using that thing again will you, please! I’ll be back posthaste, I promise!”

Luke didn’t even get a chance to reply – but it was becoming obvious to Shy, that if Dan was playing around with toys like that, then Basher’s warning was rapidly going to come true. Sure enough, Time was beginning to speed up as he slipped in and out of realities – catching glimpses and snatches of movement and sound. Shy headed down the stairs from the Easy Listening bar and out through the nearest Fire Exit. Behind him things were almost flowing like normal, but out in the road – out there on the street, there was devastation. Devastation where normal real time events had run headlong into a brick wall! Outside Time had tried to pass through the barrier and then bounced back in on itself…
Around the SCALA club ran an enormous wall of flame and a pile up of vehicles, from where a bus had caught between the two realities. Shy could make out the body of a clubber twisted in agony – half in, half out – held like a man drowning in quicksand, despite his friend’s attempts to pull him from the flames. Time was taking it’s time out here and wasn’t returning in any hurry.

There on the SCALA roof – paint brush in mouth, sat Basher… No Spitballs this time – for it seemed that he’d now mastered the art of graffiti. NICE DAY FOR OBLIVION; he’d spelt out in large letters. All around Time began to run normally again suddenly, as the first light of dawn sparked into life.

Basher’s warning was already becoming a living truth…

WHATEVER NEXT??? AS THE BIRTHDAY BEAR'S BIRTHDAY GETS CLOSER - HOW CAN SHY YETI AND LUKE FIND A WAY OF STOPPING EVENTS GETTING OUT OF CONTROL... FIND OUT NEXT FRIDAY!!!

THE TALE OF THE BIRTHDAY BEAR - PART 3

2005-08-19T02:22:00.000-07:00

Shy called Danbear several times after opening the messages - but it took a while to get in contact. Phones and emails couldn’t raise him and neither did turning up at his flat. There was only one other way that he knew of – and so Shy sent Dan a telepathic message.

Closing his eyes in concentration he attempted contact. “I'm sure you're very busy, but if you could give me a bell A.S.A.P. that’d be cool, Dan! I've got my old mobile back - same number - call me!”

Telepathy could be quite exhausting, especially sending messages to folk who had no natural psychic ability. After he was done, Shy went and sat in the sun in Green Park and sure enough - within ten minutes Dan was ringing his mobile. “What the in Hells name did you do to me?” he grumbled. “I was in the middle of a nice Damson pie and custard when you struck – you made me bump my head hard!”

Shy smiled broadly as he pictured it. “Eating pies under your desk again were you, hey Danny boy?”

Dan sounded flustered. “Yes... Well, maybe I was! But you could have warned me, Yeti!!”

“I emailed you! Phoned you! Texted and left a message with Alan - if you can't call me after all that...”

“I was BUSY!!!” Dan insisted.

“More pies?”

Silence for a second. “Maybe... Infact, actually, no - I was interviewing for new assistants at work!”

“Ok! The criteria being that they bought in a nice pie with them, right?” Silence. “Tell me I'm wrong!”

“You're not wrong! We had 100 people to interview... Eating all those pies before they go off has been a full time job, I'll have you know! Anyway - I'm cross with you about other things too...”

“Such as, what?”

“Like you being so stupid and stubborn about you plans for gallavantingness! Are you still set on it?”

“Am too!” confirmed Shy bluntly. "…And proud to announce so! Unfortunately, for you, I'm sticking about for your birthday to buy you ciders, before working out where I want to begin my adventures!”

“You're insane, Yeti! Totally doolally!!” chided Danbear. “Oh - do whatever you like! It’s just – well – I’ll bloody miss you not being here to chew pies with! Oh - and just promise me you won’t contact me by telepathy again - it scares me - sends my fur up on end you know! I'll have to go see Dr Nephur to have it straightened again now, you know... Careful, I don’t send you the flippin’ bill…"

“Please do!” agreed Shy, surprised how upset his pal seemed. “That’s fair enough... Just get back to me sooner next time, can't you? I don't like being ignored! Just wanted to know something really, that's all! Your birthday is when? This sunday? What are your weekend plans - was it drinks and Popstarz for a dance tomorrow night and then... what about saturday - what were you doing then?”

“Dinner! Didn't you get an invite?”

Shy thought about it - he couldn't remember. “I probably lost it when I was evicted! Dinner where though? At a restaurant or at someone’s house?”

“Someone’s house! Who’s the best cook in town? Other than my good self, of course…”

“Crap... Really!?! You mean dear old Speccy Ant, don’t you?!”

“Of course! Why? What's up? If I remember correctly, you usually sit and drool over his casseroles!”

“Not literally!” interrupted Shy, “Well – not deliberately, anyway! You know I love his cooking! I love BOTH your cooking – it’s not that! It’s just, I got a message - that's all! End of the world sort of thing! Won't worry you about it now - I'll go and try and speak with Ant himself – see what he says...”

“End of what? Look, you shouldn’t interfere! It won’t happen like that! Yeti?" but Shy had hungup.

*
It was quite late by the time Shy arrived at Ant’s flat. Anthony Spex, known to his friends as Speccy Ant was an expert in pretty much everything, advising those who sought his wisdom. Ant and Shy had been flatmates but Shy had moved out, soon after Anthony had begun working from home.

There was something about the “Speccy Ant” that always gave Shy a sort of nice, yet nervous shiver, “I don't know what it is - but I think I love how clever he is – I feel so stupid compared to him... It makes my fur wilt just thinking of all those bookshelves and I have to go and have a cold shower...”

Shy had called Ant and asked if it was okay to pop around that evening and been told that if he came he should bring with him a fresh tea towel. “Something patterned - I've worn out my last one...” So,
Shy had done just that. “Hi! Come right up!” Ant called, once he’d heard the intercom chime to Flat 3.

The door clicked and Shy passed on through and up the stairs to where Anthony was already waiting. An academic looking man he was 6ft tall, yet stocky, quirkily handsome with intelligent dark eyes and a cynical smile. He usually dressed quite casually, but today he looked the smartest that Shy had ever seen him - in a tux and (rather bizarrely) a pinney. “Why are you wearing that for goodness sakes...”

“Everything's at the wash - the murderers upstairs were trying to drown one another and they ended up flooding their flat and it all came in through the ceiling and spoilt everything... Awful!” Shy winced.

It was however true that Ant lived in a flat below two murderers. One of them had been a cereal killer - occasionally massacring fields of barley and the other had gone down for killing time with a pick axe. They'd both done their allotted month or two inside but their reputation remained and they were still known in the area as “Those two murderers...” It was quite fortunate - though maybe not for the couple - that they were known by such clear nicknames, which sort of detailed their wrong doings for all to see. At least it meant that the public could either associate with them or not, in full awareness of their crimes and there weren't any secrets hidden in closets - or bodies. Well, hopefully no bodies...

“I was cooking!” explained Ant as they stepped over piles and piles of new, as yet unread volumes, heading for the kitchen, “Cooking up a feast for Daniel Bear's birthday! Did you bring the tea towel?”

“I did!” confirmed Shy, removing his coat. “It was a freebie when they closed the Millennium Dome!”

“I suppose it will have to do!” To Shy's surprise Ant tied the tea towel around his head, until he looked a bit like grandad on the beach, only with a bigger, more colourful knotted handkerchief. “My brain gets very hot when I'm thinking and it's even worse when I'm cooking things...” he exclaimed and Shy nodded understandingly. “What's up then Yeti? You seem different - almost a cynical as me, today!”

“I got concussion! Ever since I’ve been seeing things rather more clearly – I’ve got ideas to explore!”

“Sounds like a bunch of old Hippie waffle to me...”

“Let me do what I do best… I’ll talk it and you can cook it...”

“Fair play to you… So why are you here?” Ant checked on something he'd got in the oven. "I'm really busy you know - there's lots to be done! I'm preparing all the food in advance, before we go clubbing!”
This was the night out arranged at the club, Popstarz for a spot of leisurely pawshuffling, “If I’m going there…” he continued. “I may well wake up on the day of the birthday meal with an awful hangover and wouldn’t feel up to cooking! You can see the sense, surely? Look - what is it you want, exactly?”

Shy looked a tad awkward. “Well... I don't know how to tell you this under the circumstances, but well - is there any chance you can cancel the party – or just postpone it - have it on Sunday or something?”

“Quite definitely NOT! It's all arranged! Why do you want this! Can't you make it now or something?”

“No, no! Not at all... It's just I received a message - it was very brief but mentioned your name, happy birthday and world ends Saturday! I just thought - well - that doesn't exactly bode well for your meal!”

Ant frowned, looking up from stirring cake mixture. “Do you mean you received some kind of threat? A poison pen letter?” Shy muttered uncertainly. “Well, what then? Where did the message come from, exactly? If it was a phonecall we should probably inform the Police! Where did it come from, Yeti?”

Shy winced again, loathe to explain but knowing he had no choice. “Well – actually… my cat sicked it up! Before you say anything though – and I know you and Basher don't really get on - but he wrote it down after having a vision! It’s all he’ll say! I did try for more, but he's vanished off somewhere!”

Ant didn’t even smile. “Okay! Very funny! Time for you to go now I think...”

“I know it sounds ludicrous - but it's the message he wanted you to have...”

“What's he going to do? Scratch my eyes out himself? Force feed me cat nip? Meow me to death?”

“Of course not! This isn’t a laughing matter! Just listen! I just don't want anything to happen to you...”

“Then be here on Saturday and make sure nothing does! Best thing you can do! Now get OUT!”

“OKAY! OKAY!” Shy sighed and struggled back into his coat, “Can I use your loo first, please...”

“No!” Shy was a tad shocked that his requirement to pee was being denied. “Really Shy! No, I'm sorry you can't! It's a mess, being redecorated, not properly plumbed in at the moment! Here - use a bottle!”

Shy stood open-mouthed, suddenly taking a wee felt less necessary, "Maybe I'll wait! See you then!"

Ant hmmphed a bit yet said nothing and so Shy fumbled out of the kitchen, through the book filled living room and beyond. Pausing in the hallway he rattled the door to the bathroom, but it was locked – in fact it wasn't only locked but it was padlocked. There was no keyhole so he wasn't going to get to peek through that way. Pressing his ear to the door though he was sure he could hear movement inside the room - and a strange sort of casseroley smell filled the air. Once again, something moved inside the room – squelched and sploshed to be accurate. Was somebody in the bath? Had Anthony some secret bather hidden within? For a minute the thought made Shy smile - until he recalled the padlock. No-one would invite a guest over and let them use the bathroom, only to padlock them in the room.

“Have you gone yet, Shy? I mean gone as in left – not as in gone in the bottle…”

“I'm departing immediately, bye!” he cried, not wishing to stay a moment longer and with that hurried towards the front door, not looking back until he was half way down the road beyond Brixton Station.

Back in the bathroom - something sinister yawned…

What will happen next? Can Shy and Luke persuade their friends that something very nasty is going to happen very soon - or are those friends already in too deep to avoid the trouble? Find out next week - Friday 26th August...

THE TALE OF THE BIRTHDAY BEAR - PART 2

2005-08-12T02:36:00.000-07:00

It was then Shy realised that there was more than one visitor. The heavy footfalls came closer, sure enough. But there was something else. Lighter movement, the rustle of a newspaper...
The light mew of a cat… Shy grinned in relief, “Is that you Calmeister? Basher?”

It was nothing to be worried about, after all.

Out of the darkness emerged a tall dark-haired man, somewhat over 6ft, in jeans and smart t-shirt bearing the words SHOTS across the front of it. This was Cal - Shy's once flatmate who now ran a sweet shop for Trolls on Charing Cross Road. His much smaller mewing companion, was their mutual friend Basher Deeley - who was himself - a small grey and white striped cat. Out of the two of them Basher was the most talkative. Calum was busily buried in the Racing Times.

“MEEEEEOW!” mewed Basher indignantly.

“Well you could have let me known it was you!” smiled Shy. “I wasn't sure who it was. I thought you might have been someone intent on jumping me!!”

“MEEEEEEEOOOOOOW!!!!”

“Yeah - well no such luck - and don't be so cheeky!”

Shy had known Basher long enough to know exactly what he meant. He had known the boy since he was a kitten. Basher was the son of Juanita, who in turn lived with another of Shy's friends. Many a time had Shy fallen asleep only to awake several hours later to find himself covered in Little Kitten Deeley spit. Kitten Deeley (or Basher as he'd become known as he grew) had been intensely affectionate, yet occasionally psychotic as a youngster. Having initially taken to adopting Shy's four foot white cuddly teddy bear (a gift from a former admirer in the Midlands) as his mother, he soon decided that Shy was much furrier and that he also required to be Kitten-washed at least twice weekly.

“Meister! What's all this creeping about going on here? It's late! I mean, how did you even find me?”

Cal looked up from his paper, “Cat dude here sniffed you out. You living here now or something?”

It all made sense. Basher always did have an acute sense of smell. “Yes, for the moment!” he confirmed. “I'm going travelling soon. I'm just getting my new life together, right now..."

“There's always room in the Dude's basket - he never uses it now… He prefers a bed of rare Atlantean coral or failing that a few big sticks of rock! You can always come stay at the sweet shop, you know!”

“No ta. I'm fine thanks, Meister!” He was still a little bit miffed about being crept up on and, going back further, how Basher had taken to living with the Meister rather than him. Some cats just couldn't tell a “Cat person” when they sniffed one. As if reading his mind, something that was actually entirely possible, Basher dodged affectionately around his legs. “So are you two here for a reason?” As if in answer Basher gave a short and slightly effeminate mew and began coughing and retching right inront of Shy's brand new note pad. “Not there, Master Deeley!" exclaimed Shy. “Basher please! I'm trying to compose some new verse!”

But Basher didn't appear to have heard and continued to retch. "Cough up Cat dude!" encouraged Cal.
“Don't tell him that!” exclaimed Shy. “Are you not combing the poor little man? He's got hairballs or grass or something stuck in his throat!!”

“Not so, Yeti! The Cat dude has a message for you, which he wrote out on a piece of paper and then swallowed. He's now regurgitating it for your pleasure and attention!!”

Shy winced, “Oh that's truly horrid. Have you been teaching him bad habits?” To be fair, Basher Deeley had always done this - yet not quite as constructively. Usually he chewed up Shy's shopping lists before they even reached the supermarket. The whole writing messages thing was new, though. He'd have paid to see Basher grip a pen and write out his message - that would be something worth seeing. “Why on earth does he have to chew up the message before I read it? I mean - if it was written up first - that's just gross!!”

“Very important message, dude!” Calum assured him. “Wanted to make sure no-one apprehended the message on the way over here!”

Bizarrely, his excuse actually almost made sense.

Taking a quick peek, Shy noticed that Basher was nearly done retching and that so far he had sicked up a few balls of what looked like papier mache. “Oh charming!” sighed Shy. “And how am I going to read those then?”

“Leave them out to dry, dude...”

“THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!!”

By now Basher looked cold and appeared to have ceased barfing. “MEWWWWWWW!” he squeaked.

“Looks like rain does it? Oh get out of here the both of you!” Basher gave him another disparaging mew. “Don’t try that with me!” snapped Shy. “How dare you, sir...”

But none of this is getting our story anywhere. Basher and the Calmeister were soon on their way and yes - soon enough - it did begin to rain!

Now it wasn't exactly soaking wet in the pavillion, but Shy didn't sleep so well and was glad to finally have the opportunity to get up and out of the park, next morning – to join the commuters – and more importantly – those in search of breakfast! For it was breakfast that was on his mind as he reached the door of the Belgravian Kitchen. “Bacon baguettes!” he mumbled, though he had no money.

“YETI!!!” Shy spun around guiltily, as if caught in the actual act of diddling the waiter of payment. “I've been looking for you! What's been going on?”

“Luke!! How are you doing, cub?”

Luke was a friend from work. Or at least they didn’t work together – but geographically their offices were close and they often shared lunch together. He’d totally forgotten to keep his friend updated on all the recent events, as he’d been away on holiday – but Luke had obviously heard all.

“I feel left out!” sighed Luke, a trifle crossly. “I mean, I go away and what happens whilst I'm gone! You're evicted AND you lose your job!” Luke had found them a table and they sat waiting to be served. “I know I'm going to be late in - but I don't really care!” he continued, admiring his new hairdo, fur sleekly shaved in quite the ultra-modern style. “Do you like it?”

“It’s quite…” but Shy never got a chance to finish – Luke had other things to say.

“Ask me how Amsterdam was, Yeti! You always thinking about yourself - you're dreadful, man!”

Luke was right though, he'd not even thought to ask. “Sorry - err - so how was it? Tulip-y?”

“Good! Dull! No - it was fun - but I was somehow expecting more! Hey! I've got something for you, Yeti!” he said as if suddenly remembering. “It’s not from Amsterdam, but from round here, something you thought you'd lost! Don't say I don't do anything for you! Hey and I've heard all about your little adventures - I've been speaking with Dan! What on EARTH do you think you're up to!?”

Shy tried to avoid Luke's stern gaze. Sometimes the cub's questing blue eyes seemed to have almost the same effect on him as his own eyes had on passing shop keepers, security guards and barmen. “I'm just going through a spot of... trouble, cub... I'm chucking it all in - going on a little adventure! Next week, probably! After Dan's birthday. I've got a few matters to sort out with my cat before I go but...”

Luke showed his disapproval by changing the subject suddenly; “Ask me what I've brought you!” he said suddenly. “You're going to love it! Honestly!”

“What have you... ?” Initially not that interested, Shy trailed off as he finally caught sight of the clear plastic freezerbag that Luke had with him. "Pies..."

“YES!!” grinned Luke. “But not just any old pies!”

“I don't believe it - how can they be? They're - they're...”

“Your pies, Mr! Or what I could get hold of - might be able to get hold of the others if you're good!”

“Oh Cub!” Shy was eagerly examining the pies through the bag - pies from all over the world, neatly wrapped in multicoloured newspaper. “How on earth did you get them back from the bailiffs!?”

“Can't say!” smirked Luke. “Top secret - I'd have to muss up your fur if I told you! Needless to say it wasn't entirely an unpleasant experience - there are some dead nice lads in that unit...”

Shy grinned and gave Luke a big hug. “I should have known! Well, thank you - SO much! Trouble is I don't have anywhere to put them, they were in cold storage - they'll go off!”

“Which is why I have them in this bag for you - I'll get them into the freezer at work and padlock it down. Nobody's going to get their gums around any of your pies, if I can help it! Not even me!!”

“Fantastic!!! Most won’t have ripened yet!” Shy explained. “Like wine - takes years to mature...”

By now their mugs of coffee and bacon baguettes had arrived. “So what's this little adventure - this problem you were going on about before?” Shy had almost totally forgotten about it in all the excitement, but explained the whole visitation last night in the park from Cal and Basher. “So, these messages, have they dried out? Have you been able to read them yet?” They had nearly been dry this morning, but in the hurry for breakfast he'd not yet examined them. “Prise them open then!”

“What here?”
“Where else, silly! I've got to get to work and freeze your pies! Of course here. Open them up!!”

There were seven “spitballs” in all. Now dry and almost solid - but by tackling them with a tooth pick they managed to open each paper ball and flatten them out. Each piece of paper had a word on it...

“What do you make of that then?” asked Luke, looking confused.

Shy sat and stared, muddling the words into a possible order until they read as follows: SPECCY, WORLD ENDS THIS SATURDAY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY...

“You know...” admitted Shy meekly, “I don't like the look of this one little bit!!!”

THE TALE OF THE BIRTHDAY BEAR - PART 1

2005-08-05T01:00:00.000-07:00

It was an ordinary Wednesday in late May, when Shy Yeti began his new life.

“I don't believe in possessions!” he declared as he picked himself up from the pavement and dusted down his fur with an unusually confident air about him. “I don't require to own anything - I have chosen to dispense with all belongings!”

This wasn't strictly true. It wasn't as if he'd had any choice in the matter, having been evicted from his flat and what with the bailiffs having taken away his prize pie collection to pawn off his debts.

“I don't care to work a 9-to-5 routine!” he continued.

This, one might comment, was pretty convenient in the circumstances. Lucky - because he'd been fired just that very morning for general laziness and repeatedly getting pie crust embedded in his keyboard. That and drool.

“I don't need to be tied down by love and relationships! I'm not someone who requires that sort of old-fashioned setup! I get all I need from life! Honestly, I find close human bonds only lead to upset!"

Also, it wasn't the sort of thing his friends were used to hearing. However, it was fortunate, for it seemed nobody wanted him and he snored too much for anyone to ever want him to share their bed...

“It's not snoring!! It's a special type of Yeti morse code...” he'd been heard to claim once.

This, of course, was clearly just a lie. A pile of complete bollocks, to be blunt.

“I am but a wandering minstrel!” he’d recently told Megan, his favourite pigeon, as he sat sunning himself in Trafalgar Square. “I shall make my living by travelling and using my talents...”

But Megan hadn't stopped for a lecture, in fact she’d rudely left a brown runny poo and then flown off.

However it wasn't all pie in the sky! This talent business wasn't just more of Shy's uncharacteristic gung-ho banter of late. For it was true, Shy did have some talents - he was pretty ok when it came to writing and had even published poetry books. Infact it was partly because he'd bought everyone drinks at the launch party for his POETIQUETTE collection of poems that he was now so low on funds.

“I don't need money!” he had also been overheard saying.

Actually this was also true. In theory.

For Shy had another talent. The power of persuasion that only a Yeti knows. This talent sort of came with being a Yeti, but it was one he'd never tapped into until now. Shy wasn't especially proud of his Yeti ancestry and had always sort of prided himself on being a shy, fluffy, friendly sort of Yeti. No need for any growling or use of force to get what one needed. But now times had changed. Now, perhaps, was the time to use the talents he'd been born with. Only in a nice way! If possible…

“Are you SURE you didn't bang your head, Shy?” enquired his friend Danbear when he explained his plan. “It's just that you're really different all of a sudden - you're quite out of character! I know you’re mad most of the time - but this just about takes the pie filling! Here, let me examine you for bruises!”

“Hands off, furryface!” snapped Shy. It was true enough - his head had rather hit the pavement when he'd been evicted. But - well - he didn't like to think too much about it, right now.

“Ok! Alright!” sighed Dan, “But just tell me! What in the name of Brian Blessed are you playing at?”

Danbear was a 7ft-tall behemoth of a bear who liked to wear armour and a Viking helmet. He lived and worked down the road from Shy and often helped advise him on his poetry. On hearing the news that Shy had lost his job and the madness that was his new plan of action, Dan had picked Shy up by the scruff of the fur and taken him over to The Stag near Victoria Station to give him a good talking to. “What's come over you, Yeti? You can't just go gallivanting around the city doing as you please - you need to find yourself a new job and somewhere to live. If Alanbear and I can help in any way, then we'll be glad to!”

Shy gave Dan a rather hard stare sensing his new regime simply wasn't being taken seriously enough. “Dan...” he began, “I don't want to be singled out for any special treatment. This is my opportunity to try again, start things from scratch. I want to explore my ancestral powers of persuasion!!”

“Your what?”

“You'll see!” sighed Shy. “I'm going to use all these new experiences to write my new book of verse!”

Danbear was shaking his head. “You have no set plan at all, do you, except for gallivanting!?!”

Shy smiled, it was well known that this was one of Dan's favourite words. Indeed, he'd once written a poem where the word appeared 17 times in two verses, just to keep his friend happy. “I have a hidden power Danbear, one that I've never spoken of before! I don't need a house or money or love or nuffin' - not even Girls Aloud, Belle and Sebastian or obscure Le Tigre cds!!”

"Or pies?"

"Neither shall I require pies! Pies have only ever bought me unhappiness..."

Danbear gave a noticeable gasp - this was fighting talk sure enough. All the same, Dan persisted, “You have concussion, Yeti! I think your brain's gone soft! I think you've eaten one too many treacle pudding! It's gone to your head! Wandering around like that - you'll be kidnapped and sold to the fur traders before you know it! I can't bear to see that happen to you - it repulses me!!!”

“I'll be FINE!!” Shy exclaimed. “I shall be there this Friday for your birthday drinks and I shall show you exactly how my powers of persuasion are doing! Drinks are on me...” With that Shy hopped from his bar stool and made a rather dramatic exit with a flourish of his fur and flick of the neck, before realising that the door he'd exited through was actually the ladies toilets. "You mark my words bear!!!" he added as he passed Dan once again (en route for the correct exit this time).

Dan sat and regarded his cider, sadly. How on earth was Shy going to be handing out free drinks when he was now effectively homeless and penniless? It just didn't make sense. But what could he do?

Meanwhile, outside it had grown dark and Shy was heading back towards Belgravia, where he had once worked. He had somewhere in mind to stay for the night - somewhere he should be relatively undisturbed, he figured.

"Before I go..." he'd said to the security guard just before he’d been flung out on his furry arse, "I wonder if you'd just hand me over the keys to the private garden in the square..."

The security guard had paused from being all burly, masterful and gorgeous and had looked back at Shy with a smile. It was then that knew his powers - those ancestral powers of persuasion which he'd never bothered to use - really worked. Shy's eyes had almost seemed to be casting a sort of spooky glow over the guard, who had suddenly handed him the keys without another word.
A little bit shocked by his own powers, Shy tried again and wondered if the guard was up for a night out on the town. “Have you got anything chocolatey I could have whilst I'm at it?” he asked instead.

Almost zombie-like the security guard routed around in his desk draw and produced a Kitkat, which he'd handed to Shy.

"I'll just take a half of it..." he'd said and given two fingers back.

Not literally. Well - not until he was kicked out of the building some minutes later, anyway.

So now Shy made his way into the park, using the keys that only residents of the square held. Of course, at this time of night no-one was about and the fence too high for even the drunkenest reveller to scale (unless they happened to be carrying a ladder, a pair of stilts or had a giraffe in their party - or some combination of the three.) So Shy felt safe. He felt a trifle smug too. “I'm coping admirably!” he said to himself. “I'm sleeping rough in central London and I'm doing it in style!!”

Needless to say, it wasn't in fact much of a test to his spirits as the night was clear and warm. It was almost the summer and, anyway, Shy had enough fur to keep him cosy. Whistling something cheerful by Morrissey, Shy ambled towards the pavilion. Once there he fumbled amongst his fur for a rucksack he'd acquired earlier - which contained a few fluffy pillows, a notepad and pen for poetry writing (apprehended from Harrods once he'd continued to practice his new talent - feeling all very Robin Hood about it...) and a candle and box of matches (which he'd picked up at the Ritz just before meeting Danbear.)

Lying back to enjoy the candle light in the pavilion, Shy smiled to himself and began to compose a poem. “I wonder what sort of verse Danbear would like for his birthday?” he wondered, “Something light and cheery or something morbid and depressing?" It was a toss-up; Dan seemed to like it either way. He'd definitely throw in a couple of long words just to make sure his friend was pleased.

Shy was becoming rather keen on his new talent! Afterall, it was the usual Yeti way - get what you want with a little bit of menace, something that he'd not liked to try until now - perhaps rather foolishly, he mulled. For too long he'd let people get the better of him - not any more!! Dan had certainly noticed. But so what? What matter that Shy wasn't his old self, that something had changed him. It was for the better overall. It wasn't just the loveless, jobless, homeless situation that had spurred him on though - but something else, something he couldn't exactly pinpoint.

“You're having a midlife fur crisis!” he told himself. “Just run with it - let it take you somewhere strange!”

Shy paused, his pen fumbling to find a theme for Danbear's birthday verse...

He had company.

Usually in the dark, Shy had extra-special Yeti eyesight. Even so, he couldn't see who it was that had joined him in the garden. He just heard the sound of someone moving close by.

He was about to cry out, ask who it was - but something made him stop... What if it was... him?

He wasn't sure whom exactly he meant - not consciously anyway - but something kept him silent all the same.

Now he could hear footsteps on the garden path - only moments from where he sat - and they were coming his way...

Who is the mysterious stranger? What surprises does Shy Yeti's new life hold in store and what happens when a birthday bear threatens to cause big mischief...

FIND OUT NEXT FRIDAY, 13TH AUGUST 2005 - SAME TIME - SAME PLACE...

SHY YETI IS COPYRIGHT PAUL CHANDLER/BEECHES BOOKS 2005.

A MESSAGE FROM SHY YETI

2005-08-05T00:23:00.000-07:00

PLEASE NOTE: THE FIRST CHAPTER OF SHY YETI AND THE TALE OF THE BIRTHDAY BEAR WILL BE PUBLISHED HERE LATER TODAY AND THEN EVERY FRIDAY FOR THE NEXT SIX WEEKS...

A MESSAGE FROM SHY YETI…

Dearest Readers,

Welcome to our Universe.

It is a Universe of Yeti - of fur and growls and all sorts of mad stuff like that. This is the first tale concerning myself, Shy Yeti, and my peculiar friends and colleagues. Previously I was P.A. to the once legendary Simon Yeti - an acting Yeti of the highest degree - who sadly became lost in a time machine in late 2003. I have also been a poet of some small acclaim and recently I lost my home, job and relationship and received a concussion to my small, furry bonce. It was this knock to my ego that made me decide to try something new. In the last few months, I have been on some incredible adventures and this is the first of six that I intend to write about over the next few months.

The first of these adventures, THE TALE OF THE BIRTHDAY BEAR, involves a gang of curious gentleman who I am occasionally associated with down here in London Town. The birthday bear that the story concerns is my script-editor and friend Mr Dan Bear Esq. (although I may have offended him of late by referring to his partner as a "a bit of a scallywag") This tale also involves my friend Calmeister and my one time feline friend, Basher. My bear cub in crime, Mr Luke, and the renowned chef and intellectual Professor Anthony Spex (known to most as Speccy Ant) There are also a few other eccentric types that appear in this tale - but I shouldn't give away too much.

I do hope you enjoy all this tomfoolery! This one’s for Dan, Luke and most of all it’s for Anthony Allen - Speccy Ant, who makes the best sausage casserole ever. More later…

Best wishes and kindest regards,

Shy Yeti xx

PS Thankyou to Mr Nick Ashwell for his help script-editing my scrawl this time.

COMING SOON

2005-08-04T07:09:00.000-07:00

COMING VERY SOON...

TALES OF A SHY YETI

STORY ONE: SHY YETI AND THE TALE OF THE BIRTHDAY BEAR.

PART ONE.

MORE DETAILS TOMORROW.