edged away, towards to the perimeter of the room.
By now Box had become accustomed to seeing his cousin, Harry, waving her wand back and forth. He actually enjoyed watching her doing it, and it made not one iota of difference whether it was the full sized electro magical one or the short, stumpy remnant; he enjoyed watching her at ‘work’ with either of them.
Harry began, but, peculiarly, this time she made no attempt at waving it. Instead, she began speaking, the same secret language – Arcanum – that she had used earlier. Speaking, chanting slowly, lowly, she said, “Crioninous crionan, shrahomanza skryomaz, reveal my bag and electro magical wand. Scryoumanzo scrymanz – It’s done!”
“I can’t see them,” said Box, feeling rather foolish at having to admit it.
“Look, again,” said Harry, “but with the same eyes that saw the station personnel…”
Box had no idea how looking for people who weren’t of the living might be of any use in finding a bag and wand, but despite these misgivings he tried, and then he saw them, true to Harry’s words he saw the bag and wand stashed high atop a cupboard in the corner of the room.
“That’s absolutely amazing!” he said. “I’d never have thought of doing that in a million years!”
“That’s why I’m the girl mystic round here,” Harry replied, with a great sense of satisfaction.
On hearing this, poor Miocene began crying. “I’ll never be a proper mystic, like you, Harry,” she sobbed, “I might as well give it all up right here and now.”
Although showing her feelings (especially ones such as kindness) was not one of Harry’s greatest attributes, she felt a bond with Miocene, so going over to the doorway she gave her a big hug, saying, “You will get there, Miocene. I can see that you will… Believe me… it will happen.”
“Y, you can?” she asked, her sobs beginning to wane.
“Yes,” Harry continued. “One day you will be one of the greatest girl mystics – ever.”
Miocene stopped crying, and returning Harry’s hug, she said, “Thanks.” Walking away from the doorway, ahead of Harry and Box, the trainee girl mystic, Miocene, strolled off down the corridor with her head held confidently high.
“That was a nice thing to say,” Box whispered.
“Nice?” Harry asked.
“Yes, it was a nice thing to say, even if it were a white lie.”
“A lie? Who said anything about lies?”
Stopping, Box said, “You mean to say that it wasn’t?”
Harry smiled, saying, “You will just have to wait and see… Now get me my bag and wand.”
Climbing up the cupboard, Box retrieved them. “There you are,” he said, handing them down.
Leaving the room, Harry and Box followed Miocene down the corridor. Staring at Wan, who was still lying unconscious upon the floor, Box asked, “What about him?”
Stepping over the traitor, Harry said, “Hmm, he deserves worse than he got. Leave him; I dare say he’ll be out for a while yet.” Abandoning Wan, leaving him lying unconsciousness upon the floor, the three friends set off with the newly liberated items.
Examining her wand, Harry found it to be intact, so also was her bag with the magical carpet still folded neatly inside. “Now all that we have to,” she said, “is find those marbles…”
“Small word,” said Box.
“Small word?”
“Yes, it’s a small word, but a big problem.”
“I suppose you’re right,” she replied. “But don’t forget we have Miocene, the girl mystic, to help us.” Box thought it a nice touch, saying that. Perhaps his terrible cousin wasn’t so terrible after all?
Laughing Larry
Regrouping in another place, where Harry promised they would most definitely be safe, the band of three set about planning the next and, hopefully, last part of their quest.
“I’m not at all happy, in here,” said Miocene, “The toilets are one thing, and the boys’ toilet yet another – but this one?”
“What’s wrong with the boys’ toilet?” Box asked, missing the point of her argument altogether.
“Nothing, if you happen to be a boy,” she explained. “But I’m not!” Then raising her hands in utter frustration, she repeated, “But this one!”
“Hmm,” Box mumbled, puzzled by her annoyance and still missing the point of what she was trying say. So turning his attention to his cousin, he said, “Tell me again, Harry, why are we here?”
“Because it’s safe?” she replied, as she too emphasised her point by raising her hands.
“Can you clarify it, you know, why it’s so safe?”
This time raising her eyes, Harry said, “We are safe in here, this toilet, which no one incidentally ever comes into, because Laughing Larry, the ghost of the boy’s toilet, has scared them all away.”
“Laughing Larry?” said Box, looking nervously over his shoulder. “What sort of a name is that?”
“A happy one?” Harry replied sarcastically.
“A happy one?” Box mumbled, thinking his cousin wasn’t taking him at all seriously.
“Yes, do you have a problem with that?” she asked.
“Well…” he replied, “I…”
Cutting him off, Harry said, “Go on, you tell him, Miocene.”
“Me?” she asked pointing at herself, quite in surprise.
“Yes,” Harry replied. “I think it will sound better coming from you.”
“Well,” she said, “I can only tell you what I have heard… And I don’t know how much is real or made up – boys, you know?” Calling Box closer, she began her little story… “According to legend,” she said, “the spirit of a dead pupil – Laughing Larry – resides in this particular, err, convenience.”
“For real?” Box asked, looking over his shoulder, again, thinking he felt something touching it
“As real as you or I,” she replied confidently.
“Then where is he?”
“Let me finish the story, first!”
“Sorry.”
“Now where was I? Oh yes, Laughing Larry was a student of Hagswords – and a good one, some say the best there has ever been, “Miocene explained. “He was the perfect pupil who excelled at everything he did; a boy mystic with whom we could have brought our world of Mysticism and Magic to an altogether new level of knowledge, to a great period of learning and enlightenment.”
“What happened, for him to end up in here?” asked Box, studying the toilet’s dusty interior with a growing distain.
“Hmm,” said Miocene, “that’s something that has been debated about – for ages.”
“Well?”
“All that I can tell you is what I have actually been told,” she warned, “and, like I said, how much of it is true is anyone’s guess…”
“Yes?”
“Larry, Laughing Larry – went mad.”
“Mad?” Box asked, looking over his shoulder for a third time.
“Yes,” she replied. “Unfortunately that is the one thing that I am absolutely sure of.”
Raising an eyebrow, Box asked, “How can you be so sure?”
“Because he appears here on a regular basis and believe me he is most certainly mad.”
“If you ask me,” said Box, “It’s all a load of codswallop.” Just then, he felt something touching his shoulder, so turning round to see what it could be, Box almost jumped out of his skin, with fright. Because floating, mere inches away from his face, was Laughing Larry himself.
“Ha, ha,” the spectre cried out,” so you don’t believe I’m for real… Ha, ha!”
“Get it away!” Box yelled, scrambling away from the mad spirit. “Get it away!”
The spirit, Laughing Larry, having no intention of being sent packing so easily, laughed all the more, and singing out loudly, he said…
“I am Laughing Larry, Laughing Larry today,
I am laughing Larry, Laughing Larry hey hey!
You may think I’m not too serious, and I might even agree,
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But I’m still Laughing Larry, Laughing Larry hee hee.”
Having retreated to behind his cousin’s back, Box said, “He’s bonkers, I tell you, absolutely barmy!”
“I did warn you,” said Miocene, a smile of satisfaction creeping across her face.
During the following minutes, Laughing Larry acted, well – like Laughing Larry, flying through the air with the greatest of ease, up and down and around and around, in fact all over the room’s grimy interior. The crazy mad spectre had the time of its life showing his audience just what he was capable of doing.
Still watching from behind the relative safety of his Harry’s back, Box wondered when the flying display and, more importantly, the ridiculous laughing and singing would come to a halt. But it simply went on and on, there seemed to be no end in sight to the zany mad antics of the crazy spirit.
When he had had enough, when he just couldn’t take another second of the overpowering craziness, Box, lifting his hands in defeat, said, “Okay, you have made your point, I believe in you. I believe that you are real, and who you say you are – Laughing Larry – now will you please stop?”
He did, Laughing Larry, floating gently down to the floor, began thanking Box for having had the wisdom to see him for what he really was – a crazy mad ghost. “If I were able to,” he said, “I would shake your hand.” With that Larry made an attempt to shake Box’s hand, but his own passed right though Box’s. “See what I mean?” he said, “It’s crazy, I tell you, absolutely crazy!”
Taking no heed as to whether he was mad or not, Harry gave the ghost an icy cool stare, saying, “Can Miocene proceed?”
“Sorry, Harry,” Larry apologised. “Please go on with the story, my dear, I’m all ears.” His ghostly ears suddenly