Chapter 15 – I’ve heard your sausages are to die for
Bright sunlight sneaked surreptitiously through the curtains, as the sound of a cock crowing heralded the start of a new day. Aiden woke up with a start and looked at the little clock on the bedside table. It said 8:05 am. The delicious aroma of bacon and sausages infiltrated his nose and he sat up, stretching. He looked around the quaint room, his eyes blinking as the rays of the sun danced across his face.
He took a quick shower, brushed his teeth and felt considerably more awake after his morning ablutions. His stomach was imploring him to stop ignoring the smell of breakfast, so he got dressed and wandered downstairs.
The Sheep’s Stirrup had a small restaurant area, in a room adjacent to the bar, and several guests were already availing themselves of the early morning fare.
‘Good morning,’ Mr Breezy said, through a mouthful of toast.
‘Good morning,’ said Mr Waft, gesticulating with a sausage skewered on his fork.
Aiden nodded to both of them and sat down at a table near the window. ‘It’s a beautiful day out there today,’ said a small sheep, wearing a bonnet. ‘What can I get you for breakfast, young man?’
‘Well, I’ve heard your sausages are to die for,’ Aiden replied, with a smile.
‘Oh, I see Maurice has been singing my praises again, bless him,’ Blanche Fluffywool said.
‘He has,’ said Aiden. ‘I’m guessing that you’re Blanche?’
‘That’s right, and I’m guessing you must be Aiden,’ Blanche said, placing a tray of toast on the table. ‘He spoke a lot about you last night. You’ve obviously made a good impression on him.’
‘The feeling’s definitely mutual,’ Aiden said.
‘Well, then, we’ve got my speciality sausages, smoked bacon, both locally farmed of course, mushrooms, hash browns, poached eggs, fried eggs, the finest drippydizzle beans, and fried bread,’ Blanche said, taking a small notebook and pen out of her pocket. ‘What would you like?’
‘Would you think it greedy of me if I asked for a bit of everything?’
‘No, of course not, I’d take it as a compliment. Now would you like any tea?’
‘Yes, please.’
When breakfast arrived, it was indeed the feast Aiden’s stomach had been hoping for, and he wasted little time in cleaning the plate. ‘Blanche, that was possibly the finest breakfast I’ve ever tasted,’ he said, as she came to take away the used cutlery.
‘Ah, I bet you say that to all the ewes,’ she said, giggling.
At that moment a panic-stricken Maurice ran into the restaurant, puffing and blowing liked he’d just been chased by a herd of rabid dogs who fancied some lamb cutlets. ‘We have an emergency,’ he said, catching his breath between the words as he spoke. ‘Mr Breezy, Mr Waft, I fear we may need your expertise.’
‘Er, whatever for, Mr Fluffywool,’ Mr Breezy said, with a worried look.
‘It’s Mrs Ripsnorter, the handkerchief vendor’s wife. She’s claiming her vacuum cleaner is possessed.’
‘Oh, dear,’ said Blanche, ‘that’s terrible.’
‘It is indeed,’ said Mr Waft, with a nervous glance at Mr Breezy.
‘Quickly, gentlemen, she’s outside now with the infernal machine. We may not have much time, it’s started levitating.’
Mr Breezy and Mr Waft exchanged more nervous glances and Mr Waft shook his head. ‘I’m afraid we may not be able to assist, Mr Fluffywool,’ said Mr Breezy, feigning disappointment. ‘If a vacuum cleaner has reached the levitation stage, there’s not really anything we can do. Also, we have urgent business in Chester that we must attend to.’
‘Yes,’ added Mr Waft. ‘There have been several substantiated reports of vacuum cleaners reciting the black mass and shaping their hoses into inverted crucifixes. We must make haste, lest we fear the worst.’
‘Or you could just be scared,’ Aiden said, as he stood up from the table.
‘Scared? Scared?!’ Mr Breezy said, defensively. ‘Don’t be so insolent my good fellow.’
‘How dare you!’ added Mr Waft. ‘Why would we, of all people, be scared of confronting a possessed vacuum cleaner?’
‘Of course, how silly of me,’ Aiden said, his mind whizzing. ‘You gentlemen obviously laugh in the face of fear and would no doubt banish the foul demon in a second. It’s just a pity that in situations like this, scurrilous rumours of cowardice can spread. But I’m sure your reputation is such that people would never believe them.’
Everyone in the breakfast room looked at Mr Breezy and Mr Waft, whilst outside an eerie howl was followed by the sound of high-powered suction. ‘Perhaps we can take a quick look, then,’ Mr Breezy said, with a nervous smile.
‘Are you mad?’ Mr Waft whispered. ‘We may be found out.’
‘It will look far worse if we don’t,’ Mr Breezy whispered back. ‘We may need to use this disguise again. Look, let’s just say a few incantations and get out of here.’
Mr Breezy stood up and grabbed his briefcase and Mr Waft finished the last piece of toast on the table. ‘You are right, my good fellow. It would indeed be remiss of us to not assess the situation and to offer our services in this time of dire need. Come, Mr Waft, we have work to do.’
Outside, a distraught Mrs Ripsnorter was being comforted by a friend as her vacuum cleaner span in the air. Its hose was flailing about and it seemed to be moaning in at least three different voices. Mr Breezy raised his hands in a grand gesture and started to speak.
‘Oh foul demon of the netherworld, we command you to leave this poor vacuum cleaner. Be gone and do not return!’
‘Yes, be gone, dark spirit!’ added Mr Waft, dramatically.
The vacuum cleaner stopped spinning and pointed its hose at Mr Breezy and Mr Waft. ‘And who the bloody hell do you think you two are, then?’ it said, in a rasping voice.
‘Er, we are highly-trained Vagrant Vacuum Cleaner Exorcists,’ said Mr Breezy. ‘And we have come to send you back to where you belong.’
‘No you’re not!’ the vacuum cleaner spat. ‘You look like a right couple of plonkers to me. Bugger off, I ain’t going anywhere.’
‘I can assure you we have banished many of your kind back to their dark holes, where they now fester for all eternity,’ Mr Breezy lied. ‘Now, by all that is holy, by all that is cheesy, and by all that is held sacred by the Philosophising Priests of Penrith, may you be discombobulated, eviscerated and rusticated!’
‘You’re making this up, aren’t you?’ said the vacuum cleaner.
‘I am not,’ insisted Mr Breezy.
‘You, are!’ the vacuum cleaner said, chortling. ‘Look, I’ve been exorcised loads of times and you’re not saying any of the right words.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Mr Waft.
‘Well, for a kick off, I’d expect something along the lines of “We who stand before you have tickled our armpits, have drunk the holy sweat of Tipsybugger and have danced naked through the frozen wastes of Holywell. So, shoo, shoo, shoo, oh nasty one. Get thee hence before we reveal our underwear.” And then you’d bounce on one leg, clapping vigorously. That normally does it.’
‘Ah, yes, of course,’ said Mr Breezy, ‘but we were hoping we would not have to resort to incantations of that potency. It now appears you leave us little choice.’
Mr Breezy stood on one leg and Mr Waft followed suit. ‘We who stand before you have tickled our armpits, have drunk the holy sweat of Tipsybugger and have danced naked through the frozen wastes of Holywell. So, shoo, shoo, shoo, oh nasty one. Get thee hence before we reveal our underwear!’ Then they hopped up and down, clapping vigorously.
The vacuum cleaner stopped spinning. Then it pirouetted. Then it gasped and emptied most of the contents of its bag on the ground. Then it gave out an anguished cry and fell to the floor with a bang… and then it started to laugh hysterically. ‘I can’t believe you two fell for that. I mean, I’ve come across some real idiots in my time but you two take the bloody biscuit. Absolute quality, th
at was!
Mr Breezy was incandescent. Mr Waft was puffed out.
‘Oh, hang on,’ said the vacuum cleaner, ‘I’ve got a message coming through from the other side. Oh, yes, from the darkest pits of the nether regions this stems; a lost soul trying to get through to her loved ones. Here it comes.’
All went momentarily dark and the vacuum cleaner span faster. ‘It’s here, the message is here…“Oh, my dearest, please help me. I am forced to boil hosiery all day, and then when I am finished I have to garnish them with pepper and eat them. Oh, the torment, the torment. For this I must do for all eternity”…’
The vacuum cleaner went silent and stopped spinning. Then it pointed its hose right into Mr Breezy’s face and cackled hysterically. ‘You mother cooks socks in hell!
‘I think it is about time we made our exit,’ said Mr Waft.
‘Agreed,’ said Mr Breezy.
‘Yeah, bugger off before I get the urge to stick this hose up your trousers,’ the vacuum cleaner said.
And with that, they turned on their heels and ran off into town. ‘I think we must give more cogitation to our choice of disguise before our next assignment,’ Hob said, puffing as he ran.
‘Drifting Feng Shui Practitioners?’ Nob suggested.
‘My thoughts exactly, my good Nob.’
‘Had enough, boys?’ said the vacuum cleaner, triumphantly, as Hob and Nob disappeared from sight. ‘Vagrant Vacuum Cleaner Exorcists my arse. Now, then, who’s next?’
People and sheep backed away in fear and the vacuum cleaner looked smug, or at least as smug as a possessed vacuum cleaner can look. It randomly span to and fro, giggling gleefully and twirling its hose. ‘Why don’t you see if you have any messages for me?’ Aiden said, stepping forward.
The vacuum cleaner stopped spinning with a jerk and pointed its hose at him, moving it from side to side and applying a mild suction action, as if it were sniffing. ‘That’s funny,’ it said. ‘I’m getting nothing from you at all.’
It repeated the process, but more frantically. ‘You’re weird. Where are you from?’
‘I’m from a place where vacuum cleaners don’t have bags,’ Aiden said.
‘Bagless vacuum cleaners? You’re not serious,’ the vacuum cleaner said, startled.
‘Oh, yes. And they never lose their suction.’
‘Oh, come on now, you can’t expect me to believe that,’ the vacuum cleaner said, dismissively. ‘You’ll be telling me next they don’t get possessed.’
‘Never,’ said Aiden. ‘We worked out how to stop all that.’
The vacuum cleaner looked concerned. Its hose began twisting slightly and bits of dust started coming out of the seam of its bag. It moved back several feet. Aiden threw his arms up in the air, theatrically, and spoke in a booming voice.
‘I call upon the power of our Lord Dyson…’
‘Now, let’s not be hasty,’ the vacuum cleaner said.
‘… to rid the Multiverse of this entity…’
‘Can’t we talk about this?’
‘… for all time and…’
‘Sod this, I’m off,’ the vacuum cleaner said, dropping to the ground and switching itself off. A rush of wind was felt by all and in the distance a shrill cry could be heard, fading softly in the morning mist.
Mrs Ripsnorter tentatively approached the inert vacuum cleaner and prodded it with her walking stick. ‘It’s been cleansed!’ she shouted, and burst into tears.
For the second time in as many days Aiden found himself receiving a round of applause, just as Cracky was wandering over from the Diner. ‘You know,’ Cracky said, smiling, ‘if I didn’t know better I’d swear you were just an attention seeker, Mr Peersey. Now, would you like to join me for that chat we planned?’