The Hollow Chocolate Bunnies of the Apocalypse

  ‘What are you saying?’

  ‘It’s a big spider, Jack. Big as you. There’s been talk, in the newspapers, about their relationship. But nothing’s been proved. And I don’t know how spiders actually do it, do you?’

  ‘You’re winding me up,’ said Jack.

  ‘I’m not, honestly. It could be on the prowl; it has terrible mandibles. And spiders sick up acid on you and you melt and they eat you up.’

  ‘Turn it in,’ said Jack, ‘I’ll protect you.’ And Jack gave Eddie a comforting pat. ‘I’m not afraid of spiders, even really big ones.’

  ‘Thanks for the comforting pat,’ said Eddie, clinging onto Jack’s trenchcoat.

  ‘Big as me, you said?’ Jack did furtive glancings all around.

  ‘Maybe bigger. Perhaps we should come back in the morning.’

  ‘We’re here now, Eddie. Let’s go and see what we can see. There’s a light on in a window over there.’

  ‘After you, my friend.’

  Eddie and Jack did sneakings through Miss Muffett’s garden. They snuck along beside a low hedge that divided the garden from a drive lined with numerous clockwork-motor cars. Large cars all, were these, and pretty posh ones too. Leaning against these cars were many big burly men. These wore dark suits and mirrored sunglasses and had little earpiece jobbies with tiny mouth mics attached to them. Each of these big men carried a great big gun.

  There was also a large military-looking truck with a canvas-covered back. A shadowed figure sat at the wheel of this.

  Sneakily Jack and Eddie reached the lighted window.

  Jack looked up at it. ‘It’s too high for me to see in,’ he whispered.

  ‘Give us a lift up then.’

  ‘Fair enough.’ Jack lifted Eddie, who clambered onto Jack’s head, put his paws to the sill and peeped in through the sash window, which was, as windows so often are on such occasions, conveniently open at the bottom. Had Eddie possessed any thumbs, he would have raised one to Jack. But as he hadn’t, he didn’t.

  ‘What can you see?’ Jack whispered.

  Eddie put a paw to his mouth.

  ‘In your own time, then,’ said Jack.

  Eddie peered in through the window gap and this was what he saw and heard:

  The room was of ballroom proportions, which made it proportionally correct, given that it was indeed a ballroom. It was high-domed and gorgeously decorated, with foliate roundels and moulded tuffet embellishments. Eddie’s button eyes were drawn to a great mural wrought upon the furthest wall. This pictured a number of bearded men in turbans flinging spears at gigantic fish.

  Eddie nodded thoughtfully. He recalled reading about this mural. Jack who’d built the house had painted it himself, but being none too bright, had confused curds and whey with Kurds and whales.

  Eddie would have laughed, but as it wasn’t the least bit amusing, and contained a glaring continuity error to boot, he didn’t. Instead, he gazed at the many folk milling about in the ballroom. The light of many candles fell upon the glittering company: the old rich of Toy City, extravagantly costumed.

  Eddie recognised each and every one.

  He’d seen their smug faces many times, grinning from the society pages of the Toy City press, and in the big glossy celebrity magazines, like KY! and Howdy Doody, pictured at gala balls and swish functions and First Nights and even the launch of the spatial ambiguity installation piece at the Toy City art gallery.

  But other than Miss Muffett and Little Tommy Tucker, Eddie had never seen any of the others in the living flesh before. The living breathing flesh. He had only ever seen them, as others of his own social class had seen them, in photographs. As totems, icons even, to be revered and admired and looked up to. They were rich and they were famous. They were ‘better’.

  Eddie shook his furry-fabricked head and peeped in at them. He spied the ‘olds’: Old King Cole, Old Mother Hubbard, the Grand Old Duke of York. And the remaining ‘littles’: Little Polly Flinders, Little Bo Peep, and the hostess, Little Miss Muffett. And the ‘double nameds’: Mary Mary, Tom Tom, the piper’s son, Peter Peter, pumpkin eater. And there was Simple Simon, who had famously met a pie man. And Georgie Porgie, the reformed paedophile. And Peter Piper, who’d picked a peck of pickled peppers, for reasons of his own. And there were Jack and Jill, who’d once been up a hill. And the Mary who’d had that little lamb. And the Polly who’d put the kettle on. And the Jack who’d built the house and mucked up the mural.

  Eddie watched them, and Eddie slowly shook his head once more. There they were, and they were rich and famous. But when it came right down to it, why?

  Most seemed to have achieved their fame for no good reason at all. For going up a hill to fetch water! Going up a hill? Or eating a pie, or putting the kettle on? What was it all about, eh?

  It wasn’t so much that Eddie was jealous – well, actually it was.

  But it really didn’t make any sense.

  Eddie suddenly became aware that he was thinking all these things: thinking like Jack, in fact. Eddie gave his head a thump and watched as a wheeled rostrum affair was pushed into the ballroom by two of the burly suited types, who then helped Miss Muffett onto it. She stood, glamorously attired in another glittering gown, waving her manicured fingers about and shushing the company to silence.

  ‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ she said, ‘firstly I would like to thank you for coming here tonight. We are all in great danger and if something isn’t done, we will each go the way of Humpty Dumpty, Boy Blue and Bill Winkie.’

  Eddie flinched.

  ‘We all know who is doing this to us. We dare not wait for the inevitable to occur. We have to take steps. Do something about it.’

  ‘I don’t agree,’ said Mary Mary.

  ‘Well, you wouldn’t, would you dear? You being so contrary and everything.’

  ‘We must run away,’ said Mary Mary. ‘That’s what we must do. Run while we still can.’

  ‘To where?’ Georgie Porgie spoke up. ‘To the world beyond the city’s box? The world of men? We can’t get there anyway, and even if we could, what chance would there be for us amongst the people of that world? How long would we last if we, like them, were doomed to a normal life-span? Toy City is our world. Here we are rich and powerful. Here we can live on and on. Or at least we could, until he returned to murder us all.’

  Eddie nodded thoughtfully.

  ‘We don’t know for certain that it’s him.’ This voice belonged to Jack (husband of Jill). ‘Perhaps it’s one of us. Someone in this room.’

  ‘Ignore my husband,’ said Jill (wife of Jack). ‘He’s never been the same since he fell down the hill and broke his crown. Brain damage.’ She twirled her finger at her temple.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with me, woman.’

  ‘I can think of a number of things.’

  ‘Please.’ Miss Muffett raised her hands. ‘There’s nothing to be gained by arguing amongst ourselves. He’s picking us off, one by one. And I’m next on the list. I paid a fortune to have that camouflage canvas outside done. But how long will it fool him?’

  ‘I doubt whether it will fool him at all,’ said Georgie. ‘We should all just flee the city. Hide out in the surrounding countryside. Perhaps if he can’t find us, he’ll just go away again. I’m going home to pack my bags.’ Georgie made to take his leave.

  ‘You can’t go,’ said Miss Muffett. ‘Not until the one that I have invited here tonight has arrived and said what he has to say.’

  Georgie Porgie threw up his hands. ‘And what’s this mystery man going to say? That he can protect us all from the inevitable?’

  ‘That’s what he told me.’

  ‘I don’t deserve any of this,’ said Georgie. ‘To be on some nutter’s hitlist. I’ve served my time and now I’m entitled to enjoy my wealth.’

  ‘If only it was just some nutter,’ said Jill (wife of Jack). ‘But it isn’t, it’s him. We are the founder members of The Spring and Catch Society. We know the truth about Big Box Fella and his evil
twin, because we are the elite, the first folk placed here when Toy City was assembled. We helped Big Box Fella to cast his evil twin from this world, but now he has returned to wreak his vengeance upon all of us. We knew that one day this might happen and we should have taken steps earlier to prevent it. But we didn’t; we just continued to indulge ourselves. We have abused our privileges and become complacent and now we are paying the price.’

  Jack tugged at Eddie’s leg. ‘What can you see?’ he asked.

  Eddie ducked his head down. ‘They’re all in there,’ he whispered. ‘All the still-surviving PPPs, and they’re talking about The Spring and Catch Society and the evil twin. I was right, Jack. It’s all as factual as.’

  ‘Incredible.’ Jack shook his head and Eddie all but fell off it.

  ‘Stay still,’ said Eddie. ‘I don’t want to miss any of this.’

  ‘We have to kill him,’ Georgie was saying. ‘Kill him before he kills us.’

  ‘And how do you kill a God?’ asked Jill. ‘Get real, please.’

  ‘I have ten thousand men,’ said the Grand Old Duke of York. ‘I’ll deal with the blighter.’

  The Grand Old Duke was ignored to a man, and a woman. He did not have ten thousand men. He’d never had ten thousand men. He and Wheatley Porterman had made the whole thing up.

  ‘Wait until the one I invited arrives,’ said Miss Muffett. ‘He’ll explain everything. He’ll put your minds at rest.’

  ‘He’ll save us, will he?’ Georgie Porgie went to throw up his hands once again, but finding them still up from the previous occasion, he threw them down again. ‘Listen, when Humpty Dumpty was killed, we all knew what it meant; we clubbed together and put up the money to employ Bill Winkie. He was next on the list. He knew that. But what happened?’ Georgie drew a fat finger over his throat. ‘Bill Winkie couldn’t stop him. He never had a chance. Nobody can stop him.’

  ‘I can stop him.’

  Heads turned at the sound of this voice, turned to its source: to the open doorway.

  ‘You?’ said Georgie Porgie.

  ‘You?’ said Jack (husband of Jill).

  ‘You?’ said Jill (wife of Jack).

  ‘Me?’ said Mary Mary (well, she would).

  ‘You?’ said the others present, but still unidentified.

  ‘You?’

  ‘Me,’ said Tinto. ‘I can save you all.’

  Had Eddie’s eyes been able to widen, they would have widened now. His mouth, however, could drop open. And so it did. Most widely.

  ‘Tinto,’ whispered Eddie. ‘What is Tinto doing here?’

  ‘What?’ asked Jack, but Eddie shushed him into silence.

  ‘Tinto,’ said Miss Muffett. ‘Welcome, welcome.’ Tinto wheeled himself into the ballroom.

  ‘But he’s a toy!’ said Georgie. ‘The wind-up barman. We all know him. Is this your idea of a joke?’

  ‘I can save you all,’ said Tinto.

  ‘Stuff that,’ said Georgie. ‘I’m going home to pack. Who’s leaving with me?’

  ‘No,’ Miss Muffett raised her hands once more. ‘Please hear him out. Hear him out, and then you may leave if you wish to.’

  Georgie Porgie folded his arms and took to a sulking silence.

  ‘The floor is yours, Tinto,’ said Miss Muffett.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Tinto. ‘Now, you all know me. You held your meetings above my bar. I’ve respected your privacy. You know that you can trust me. I am here to protect you.’

  ‘Indeed?’ Old King scratched at his crowned head with a bejewelled finger. ‘Well, listen, old chap, I don’t wish to cause you offence, but I feel it will take more than a tin toy to defeat our adversary.’

  ‘I am far more than just a tin toy,’ said Tinto. ‘I’m all manner of things. I’m most adaptable. Would you care for a demonstration?’

  Old King shrugged. ‘If you like,’ said he. ‘As long as it doesn’t take too long and provides a bit of amusement. Should I call for my fiddlers three to accompany you?’

  ‘That really won’t be necessary.’ Tinto’s head revolved. ‘Now who, or what, first, I wonder? Ah yes, how about this?’ Tinto’s left arm extended, reached around behind his back and wound his key.

  ‘Hm,’ went Eddie.

  And then Tinto’s hand touched certain buttons upon his chest, buttons that Eddie had never seen before. There was a whirring of cogs and then all manner of interesting things began to happen. Tinto’s head snapped back, his arms retracted, his chest opened and he all but turned completely inside out.

  And now Tinto wasn’t Tinto any more: he was instead a tall and rather imposing gentleman, decked out in a dashing top hat, white tie and tails.

  ‘God’s Big Box!’ cried Old King Cole. ‘It’s Wheatley Porterman himself!’

  ‘Son of a clockwork pistol,’ whispered Eddie, as a gasp went up from those inside the ballroom.

  ‘No,’ said Tinto, in the voice of Wheatley Porterman, ‘it is still me. Still Tinto. But you can’t fault the resemblance, can you? Faultless, isn’t it? Are you impressed?’

  Heads nodded. The assembled company was most definitely impressed.

  ‘Then how about this one?’ said Tinto. ‘You’ll love this one.’ There was further whirring of cogs and the gentlemanly form of Mr Wheatley Porterman vanished into Tinto’s chest. Flaps appeared from beneath Tinto’s armpits, his legs slid up inside himself. Bits popped out here and popped in there, further convolutions occurred and suddenly Tinto was …

  ‘Me,’ whispered Old King. ‘You’ve become me.’

  ‘And what a merry old soul am I,’ said Old King Cole’s perfect double. ‘I can impersonate any one of you here. Rather useful to fool your adversary, don’t you agree?’

  ‘Incredible,’ puffed Old King Cole. ‘And not a little upsetting. But surely my belly is not so large as that.’

  ‘Larger,’ said Tinto, who had now become Tinto once more. ‘I was flattering you. But allow me to explain. I am a new generation of transforming toy, created by the toymaker for your protection.’

  ‘So the toymaker sent you.’ Old King grinned. ‘Built you to protect us. Damn fine chap, the toymaker.’

  ‘Precisely,’ Tinto agreed. ‘Damn fine chap, the toymaker. Or Big Box Fella, as we know him best.’

  Another gasp went up from the assembly. A very big gasp.

  ‘Something wrong?’ asked Tinto. ‘You are shocked and appalled that a mere toy should know the toymaker’s true identity?’

  Heads nodded dumbly.

  ‘Don’t be,’ said Tinto. ‘It remains our secret. I was created to protect you and to destroy the toymaker’s evil twin. I have just spent the entire evening with the toymaker discussing the matter. He’s very upset about the whole thing. He feels that it’s all his fault and he can’t bear the thought of any more of his dear friends coming to harm. So he has arranged for me to escort you all to a place of safety. Isn’t that nice of him?’

  Eddie scratched at his special-tagged ear. Tinto was clearly not telling all of the truth.

  ‘But pardon me,’ said Old King Cole, ‘although I appreciate the quick-change routine, which is very impressive, I don’t quite see how you are going to destroy the evil twin.’

  ‘That,’ said Tinto, ‘is because you haven’t seen everything I can do. I am capable of many other transformations, most of a military nature. You really wouldn’t want me to show them to you here; they are all most lethal.’

  ‘This is absurd,’ cried Georgie Porgie, ‘sending us a toy. Big Box Fella has clearly gone ga ga. Time has addled his brain.’

  Another gasp went up at this. Possibly the biggest so far.

  ‘No offence to Big Box Fella, of course,’ said Georgie Porgie, hurriedly. ‘But this is ludicrous.’ Georgie, whose hands were currently in the thrown down position, made fists out of them. ‘A toy!’ he shouted. ‘What good is a toy?’

  ‘I’m much more than just a toy,’ said Tinto.

  ‘So you can do a few tricks.’ Georgie made a face. ‘That is hard
ly going to be enough. Show us what else you can do. Show us how tough you are. In fact—’ Georgie Porgie raised his fists. It had been many years since he’d run away from the boys who came out to play. He’d learned to fight in prison. ‘In fact,’ he said, ‘come and have a go, if you think you’re hard enough.’

  ‘I think not,’ said Tinto, shaking his head. ‘Not here.’

  ‘A stupid toy.’ Georgie stuck his tongue out at Tinto. ‘That to you,’ said he. And he raised two fingers to go with the sticky-out tongue.

  What happened next happened fast. And fast can sometimes be shocking. Tinto’s hand flew across the ballroom, upon the end of an arm which extended to an all-but-impossible length. The dextrous fingers of this hand snatched Georgie Porgie by the throat, shook him viciously about and then flung him down to the hard wooden floor.

  A truly horrified gasp now went up from the assembly. It surpassed all the gasps that had gone before. It was accompanied by much stepping back from the fallen body. And much staring in blank disbelief.

  ‘Outrage,’ cried Old King Cole, finding his voice and using it. ‘A toy daring to attack one of the elite. I shall have you scrapped, mashed-up, destroyed. Security guards, take this iconoclastic tin thing away and break it all to pieces.’

  The security guards, however, appeared disinclined to become involved.

  ‘I think not,’ said Tinto, shaking his metal head. ‘I must apologise for that display of gratuitous violence. But it was to prove a point. The killer of your friends walks amongst you. He is here in the city. He has already inflicted far worse upon your fellows. He has, no doubt, similarly hideous ends planned for each of you. The evil twin can be stopped. But only I can stop him.’

  ‘Indeed?’ said Old King. ‘Then allow me to ask you one question.’

  ‘Go on then.’

  ‘Why have you waited so long?’ Old King fairly shouted this. ‘If you’re capable of destroying this fiend, then why haven’t you done so yet? Some of my closest friends are dead. If you could have saved them, why didn’t you?’

  ‘I have my reasons,’ said Tinto. ‘Good timing is everything, if you wish to succeed. If there is something that you truly want, it is often necessary to wait before you can get it.’