Juice machine. Part 1

                                                                                           
"Land-Ho!  Land Ahea-eaD!"

The sounds of  the timber hull being torn out of the ship ripped through the air as it smashed onto the rocks and keeled over onto its side.  A ragged idiot, half buried amidst piles of sail-cloth and lines, poked his head up to peek sheepishly over a broken top-mast, a 'mummy, I didn't do it' sickly smile on his face.

"I prob'ly shuda said that a bit sooner, shouldn't I?"

A man, he's got the medical certificate to prove it, who was twice as wide as he was tall, wearing a blue coat and tricorn hat, with the word 'captain' written on it in crayon, climbed out from a broken hatch and patted his pet idiot on the head.

"There, there, little Eccles, no real harm done.  The food is safe, and that's what matters, eh?  Hah, Ha!"  His jovial manner in the face of disaster was possible only by the use of a complete, pig-headed refusal to deal with reality.  To perceive it, might be more accurate.

"No harm done, Neddy?  No harm done?"  The speaker was a tall, elegant gentleman, of no fixed income, who did his best to look indignant from beneath several hundred pounds-weight of coarse sailcloth, from which he was cutting his escape with a pair of monogrammed nail-scissors; which is to say, very slowly.

"Well no, not really!  We still have our health!  And that's Captain Neddy, if you please, Mister Grytpype-thynne.  Unable Seaman Eccles!  Help our distinguished passenger get ashore to that lovely beach just there, get Apprentice Cabin-boy Bluebottle to lend a hand.  I'll see where our Military Man has gotten to; and check the supplies."

Right on cue, a giant handle-bar moustache with ruddy cheeks and a rosy nose attached, and debauched body dragged behind, burst out onto the lop-sided deck, screaming, "We're sinking!  Sinking!  Women, children and me first!"

"Major Bloodnok!  Calm yourself, sir," called Grytpype-thynne. "There are no women and children on board, so don't concern yourself, dear chap!"

"There's not?  Bloody good show!  I'm off then!"  The belly-whacker splashed all on deck as the Major leapt overboard and frantically churned his way towards the shore. His screams alternating with burbles as he swam, "aaah,  blub, aaah, blub," 'till it faded into the distance.

Grytpype-thyne stood up, shaking off the sails with the help of Eccles and Bluebottle, and stood calmly brushing off his coat-sleeves as he admired the speed of the Major's withdrawal.  "Yes," he sighed, "that's our Military Commander.  Never moves faster than when in retreat.  Got a medal for it, you know."

"Did he really?" gasped Eccles in admiration.

"Oh yes.  Unfortunately it was from the enemy, for a job well done."

"Wow!"  Eccles and Bottle looked at each other significantly.  They had a 'Hero' aboard!  Or, rather, escaping the sinking ship.

"I wonder why he didn't want to come in the dinghy with the rest of us?"  Little Bluebottle scratched his head, straightening his cardboard pirate party hat as he did so.

"Duh, that's obvious!"  Eccles nodded sagely to his little chum.  "He's a Hero!  He's going on ahead of us to make sure it's safe."

"Wow!"  Bottle's eyes gleamed.  "Glad we've got someone like that along to take care of us."

Grytpype-thynne lowered his lanky frame into the dinghy and sat with dignity as the others clambered in around him.  " I'm sure that under the Major's care we'll all have the life-expectancy of a housefly."

The two young idiots looked at him blankly, stopping their rowing.

"That's about seven days, lads."

The Unable Seaman and Apprentice Cabin boy nodded to each other.  "That'd be 84 years in dog years,"  Eccles muttered as they rowed.  "Gosh!"  Bottle was awed by the brain-power of his friend.  "I can count up to ten.  Twenty if I take my shoes and socks off.  And if I'm in the bath, I can count to 21!"

Grytpype-thynne reached out and slapped him.  'I don't wish to know that!  Just shut up and row."

Landing on the beach, our party of desperate heroes found the brave Major.  After dragging him out from under the trees where he was cowering, they took council of war.

"I'm for immediate surrender."

"Yes, we're all aware of your feelings on the matter, Major.  Could you tell us, I wonder, precisely to whom you propose that we should surrender with such alacrity?"  Grytpype-thynne indicated the miles of empty beach as far as the eye could see.

"You mean there's no enemy?  In that case, let me take charge!  Now, where are we?"

"You don't know, Major?"  Grytpype-thynne rubbed his brow and hung his head. 

"That's it, we're all dead."

"Never despair.  I've rescued the charts from my cabin!"  The cheerful voice of Captain Neddy boomed at them from the surf as he waded ashore.

"Skipper, I thought you went down with the ship!  What about the tradition of the sea?"  Seaman Eccles was aghast.

"Tried to!"  Captain Neddy spread a chart of the island on the sand before them all.  "Couldn't sink!"  he cried, patting his mountainous belly fondly.  "Just bobbed until the ship's dog swam by.  Grabbed her tail and she brought me in.  Lucky, eh?"

The two little idiots both set up  a boyish cheer, "Yay for Goldie!"  They ran to the golden labrador that was chasing seagulls down the beach, laughing and carefree, not a functional brain-cell between the three of them.

Bloodnok and Neddy leaned over the map, each choosing a different direction for north and arguing over which was closer, the fort to which the Major was supposed to go, or the Club Last Resort, to which the Major wanted to go.  Grytpype-thynne settled the dispute with his astute observation, "Why don't we follow that sign just over there that reads 'This way to the Red Fort, 1 Mile'?"

"Oh, well, if you want to take the easy way out, be like that," chortled Neddy, "but it spoils the point of having a good map, I say.  Where's the fun if you just follow the road signs?"

Grytpype-thynne looked at the Neddy sourly.  "How the dickens did you ever find your way to the South Seas?"

Captain Neddy looked uncertain. "South...?"

"Oh, look never mind that now.  Just call your crewmen and lets get on, shall we?"

"Jolly good!  Hah, ha!  Seaman Eccles, Little Bottle, fall in for forced march, at the double!"

"Why do they call it a 'forced' march, Eccles?" asked Bottle, as they hiked along behind their dubious leaders.

"They could hardly call it a forced June, could they?  That'd be silly."

"See, that's the sort of thing I wouldn't have thought of.  How'd you get so smart, Eccles?"

"Oh, I'm not really as dumb as I look, you know.  It's just the way me Mum dresses me.  Besides, so long as I've got Goldie, I can never be dumb.  She's a trained 'thinkin'-brain" dog, you know!"

"Wow, so that's the secret of your success!"

"Yep!  Me Mum always said, 'Nothin' sucks seeds like a Budgie'."

"You know?  That's really true!  Hey Eccles, what's that big buildin' up 'dere on the hill and why is Major Bloodnok hidin' behind that rock while Mr Grytpype-thynne  and Cap-i-tan Neddy are goin' up to the gate?"

"Oh, the Major is prob'ly doin' somethin' milit'ry.  Maybe hidin' to gain              'intelli-gence.'"

"I heard the Major say yesterday that , when the bullets is flyin', hidin' shows      intelli-gence.  So, yep, you must be right, Eccles, sompin' milit'ry, f'sure."

As our pair of intrepid idiots entered the fort, they were greeted by the most horrendous growling, as of a starving tiger, amplified by the small amphitheatre of the tiny fort's walls.

"Excuse me,' burped Captain Neddy, 'but I haven't eaten since breakfast!  The supplies were all lost with the ship!  I'm going to starve, if I don't get my          elevenses soon.  I could eat a horse!  And its harness and hooves!"  Neddy's jowls shook as he turned his head about, seemingly looking for that poor horse, while wiping a little drool from his chin.

Grytpype-thynne, ever alert for danger to his personal safety, gave Bluebottle a clip round the ear, just to get his attention, and sent him to call for the Major to come quickly.

"Major Bloodnok, Sir!  There's no-one here!  Mr Grytpype-thynne says can you please come inside now, he wants you!"

"No-one there?  Right, I'll take charge then.  What's happened?"  Bloodnok was never braver than when the enemy was elsewhere.

"Neddy's getting hungry, I'm afraid, Major."  Grytpype-thynne took a step to place himself between Major Bloodnok and the gate, wisely, as it blocked the coward's instinctive response to escape.

"But...but...We have to hide!  You know what his appetite's like.  We'll be next on the menu once he's run out of fresh horses, you know!"

"Oh, but Goldie says that you can't starve to death on a beach," volunteered Eccles, reading the 'doggy-speak' of his thinking-brain dog as she dug in the sand sagely.  "There's always plenty to eat, 'coz of all the sandwiches there!" (An oldie but a goodie, folks!)

Grytpype-thynne reached out and slapped Eccles.  "I don't wish to know that."

"Right, there's nothing else for it then."  Major Bloodnok straightened up his uniform and brushed his moustaches straight, his survival instinct reaching for the next viable option, given flight was impossible.  "We'll just have to man the fort ourselves, commandeer its supplies, and feed Neddy."

An humungous growling, like three tigers in mating season being strangled,          erupted  around them, ending in a gentle belch.

"Preferably, rather quickly."  Bloodnok drew himself up to his full height, girth and tax bracket and addressed his (qualified in some cases) men.

"Fall in, front and centre!"  No-one moved.  Grytpype-thynne turned his back with a sigh and a head-shake, Captain Neddy cheerfully gave Bloodnok 'the finger', and belched again for emphasis.

"Do you think he means us, Eccles?"  Little Bottle's voice quivered with excitement, unable to believe his luck.

"Yep!  You be 'front', I'll be 'centre'.  Atten-shun!  All presents are correct, SAH!"  Eccles delivered a salute so crisp it cut his forehead.

"Ooh, do we get to play cowboys now?"  Bottle clapped his hands in boyish happiness.

"Not quite yet, little man.  First I have to swear you in as soldiers of the Queen," condescended Bloodnok.  "Now, listen carefully while I administer the oath.  Attention!  Take out your wallets, raise your right hands, and repeat after me.  HELP YOURSELF!  Thenkyew."

"Does this mean we're really, truly soljers now?"  asked Eccles.

"Yep," replied the Major, inspecting his profits.  "It's called 'taking the Queen's shilling'.  Or, in your case, thrupence-ha'penny, a button, a phantom decoder ring, and a rather dog-eared playing card with a questionable picture of a naughty lady on the back, which I'm confiscating for my personal collection.

You are now my Privates." Eccles and Bottle both sniggered and nudged each other.  "Your first orders are to scour the fort and report back to me if you find any brandy, oh, and...ah...food for Neddy too, of course.  That last bit better be first, actually.  Got that?"

Eccles shook his head, Bottle nodded his, then they looked at each other and swapped over, nodding and shaking the other way round.

"Look, just Go...Find...Food."

"Yes, Sah!"  The two new soldiers turned and walked into each other, bouncing back with a 'boing'.  Luckily their heads took the full force of their collision, so nothing important was damaged.  Eccles solved their directional problems by taking Bottle by the hand and leading him into the nearest building, crying loudly, "'Ef, 'ight, 'ef, 'ight..." as they skipped out of sight.

The immediacies of command thus neatly attended, Bloodnok ambled off towards the Officers' Mess in search of Brandy.  Or anything else remotely flammable.

"Why, thank you, Major.  I do feel ever so much safer now."  Grytpype-thynne found himself alone with Neddy's growling digestive tract and hungry eye, a disconcerting combination, as anyone who's ever tried to feed a hungry eye can attest; near as difficult as a starving nay.  "And speaking of nays, Neddy, lets go have a look around the stables.  There's bound to be a few bags of oats lying about, just to take the edge off."

"What, what , what, what?  But I had porridge for breakfast!  I always have scones for elevenses."

"Perhaps we'll be in luck and they didn't stop to sweep out the stables before they left.  We might find piles of nice, green lumpy scones, still steaming!"

"Really?  Right-ho then, point me the way."  By this stage Neddy wasn't thinking quite rationally, not that he ever had.  It was at least ten minutes past his usual 'elevenses' time, and by his standards that was approaching the 'which of my own legs will I eat first' starvation level.

Grytpype-thynne grasped him by the shoulders, turned and pointed him.  Neddy always moved fastest in the direction of food, and they both ran for their lives toward the stable, each for their different reasons.  One to get food, the other not to become food.

Meanwhile, the Major's new Privates (snigger, nudge) were making their own headway with their first ever Milit'ry Mission.  To the calls of Eccle's Regimental Timing they ransacked and ruck-sacked and rickshawed the Adjutant's office, but could find no food.  "Wuh, two-free...Wuh!  Wuh, two-free...Wuh!"

"Why do you keep saying that, Eccles?' asked little Bottle, from behind the Adjutant's desk, where he was spinning around in circles on the swivel chair, to the odd 'Wheee!"

"I heard a Sergeant yelling it once.  I think it's coz Sergeant's can't count up to four, so they have to keep starting over."

"One day I'll be ah ex-pert on soljerin' like you, Eccles."

"Yup.  Just follow my lead, an' I'll teach you proper.  By the way, Bottle, could stop 'Wheein'' like that while you're spinnin' around?  Some of it's sprayin' on me."

"Oh, sorry Eccles, but I like playin' 'garden sprinkler.'  I'm finished now, anyway.  That feels better."

Little Bottle, wiping up the desk and the keyboard in front of him, asked, "Eccles, what's a lap-top computer doin' in a 19th century story settin'?"

Eccles shrugged and scratched his head with his finger, coz it was much easier than using his toe.  "Maybe the Author was visitin' and left it here by accident when he heard us arrivin'?"

"But how's it workin'?  Electricity hasn't been invented yet!"

"Maybe it's coz you have such an electric personality?"

Just then a 'brzlfrit  wasil' fell from the ceiling and landed on the desk with a thump. 

"Well, there's somethin' you don't see every day," exclaimed Eccles.

"No,' said Bottle, 'I haven't seen a 'thump' like that for ages.  And the 'brzlfrit wasil' is pretty unusual too!  What d'you think it means, Eccles?"

Eccles pondered this question, a small geyser of steam erupting from his ear as several brain cells shorted out, then knelt down while Goldie nuzzled and wuffed in his good ear, the bad one having had a spanking and been sent to its room.  "Oh, I see.  Goldie says that it's obviously a metaphoric anomaly of the most idiosyncratic kind, and a feeble attempt at a humorous symbolic representation of a 'Juice Machine'."

Bluebottle's eyes glazed for a moment, then latched onto the last words he heard. 

"Oh, good.  I like juice.  How's it work, den?"

"Goldie said that you just type in whatever you want and it appears in the story.  And please don't call me 'Den'."

Bottle immediately typed with his finger, coz it was easier than using his elbow, the following letters.  E-K-U-L-S A-N B-O-T-E-L B-O-F- G-O-T P-R-O-O-N-E J-O-O-S-E.  Whereupon two large slurpies of iced prune juice fell from the ceiling into their waiting hands.

"Great!" slurped Eccles, "I like proone joose.  My mum always says, it gives you a good run for your money!"

"Hey, Eccles.  Let's go show the others what we found.  Maybe they'd like somefink from the 'Juice Machine' too?"

Sadly, here we must leave our band of heroes for now.
Don't miss part 2 of 'Juice Machine', or you'll sadly miss out on 'The ending of the bone in the upper arm', otherwise known as 'The Humourous Conclusion'.
See ya there!