(A novel about Slugs falling in love and killing each other but not necessarily in that order) By Mike Batt

Chapter Five: More Interesting Things Happen

Elsie took the kettle off the stove and poured a large splash of hot water onto her herbal teabag. Must get a new kettle, she thought to herself. The kettle had been taking almost exactly a week to boil lately, which was quite ridiculous, although it was useful as a calendar; but then only if you boiled it constantly over and over again.

It had now been three kettle-boils since Ergo and his lads had marched off into the jaws of Death, or wherever. She hadn't heard back from Ergo at all - but then, as Ergo was not aware that Elsie had begun thinking tenderly of him, there was nothing surprising in that. She had received a postcard from Dotty, saying that all was well as they had passed through The Avocado Bit Of The Mauve And Avocado Mountains, and that Arthur Monkberry had indeed joined the army, with his band of ugly trolls. She had learned of the first Jelly Baby Drop and the depth-charge incident. Elsie put the kettle on again. Through the window of Dotty's kitchen she could see a panoramic view of Don't Be So Ridiculous Valley, the great hill stretching away at the centre. Her mind wandered back to Ergo, and she wished he felt the same stirrings for her as she felt for him. It was certain that he didn't because he hadn't said anything, and in any case he wouldn't, because, she reasoned, a slug would never even think of any romantic adventure with a fairy. Fairies just weren't attracted to slugs, so why would he even try it? There was no precedent. It wasn't just as if there was a social barrier - in fact there was no social barrier. The problem was purely physical. Slugs were just the wrong shape. No legs, not much in the way of arms. No muscles. Slimy. Come to think of it, she was beginning to have second thoughts, now. It was even putting her off her Rosehip and Hibiscus Herbal Infusion. . But then, he was sort of cute. And brave, and ambitious, and a leader... would probably become extremely wealthy... yes, he was really rather attractive after all.

She doodled and knitted, whittled a stick, baked a rice pudding, varnished the stairs, phoned her mother, made a model of Don't Be So Ridiculous Valley Post Office And Town Hall Building out of matches, and read the Woodland Bugle, but her mind constantly returned to Ergo. She wondered if she should set out intrepidly to try to find him. Or just set out, unintrepidly. She wandered out onto the balcony and sat down next to the Large Disused Owl. The Owl had no conversation, and smelled rather high, so she returned to the kitchen and walked through to the helicopter loft, which was on the same level. She walked around the remaining helicopter - which must have been Dotty's because it was pink, and it was a Wednesday afternoon. Or was it Nigel's? Or was it Tuesday?

An idea began to form in Elsie's head. It was the only place she ever had them.
Yes, it was a good idea! Not quite as good as Ergo's idea about Christmas, but up there with some of the really good ideas you hear about. She began to make her plans, and waited for the kettle to boil once more.

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General James Moundrot was not a happy bunny.

"Quirkhardt!", he barked, "get Third Battalion on Red Alert immediately!"

"Yes, Sir!" returned Quirkhardt, - "I think they are already on an alert, but I'm not terribly sure which colour alert they're on."

"Probably Yellow Ochre or Magnolia" snapped Moundrot. He prided himself on a sense of humour in moments of crisis. Quirkhardt laughed, sycophantically.

"Don't stand there laughing sycophantically you dithering clot!", yelled his commander. "Get down to the mess and call all company commanders to the briefing room. Now!"

Once again, Quirkhardt found himself hurtling down the corridors of Pigfrog Command, cursing his luck for having been born. Dithering clot, indeed! Why did the boss keep him on if he was such an idiot? Maybe it was the boss who was a dithering clot ...but the thought remained unfinished, because he was now pushing through the swing door of the mess.

"All company commanders of Third Battalion report to the briefing room immediately. Place your men on full Magnolia Alert!", he spluttered. "Red, I mean".

Four minutes later, the six commanders were sitting in the briefing room, waiting for the old man. They didn't have to wait long. Moundrot rolled into the room, dragging his trail of goo, which always seemed to be more or less in one piece, and followed him around like a string of elasticated mucous, even though the weight of it compared to its elasticity sometimes meant that it arrived in a room twenty seconds after he did.

"Gentlemen, Christmas appears to have arrived a little earlier this year.", Moundrot began, "and it looks as though your appetite for dampening the Christmas Spirits of horrible little slug and woodland civilians will soon be satisfied many times over. However, one of our NCO's has er.. gone to Heaven.. as a result of aggressive action from a party of slug carol singers. Even though the deceased was only Corporal Flighnever, so the loss to us is minimal, I intend to locate and eliminate this group of slugs without delay. Third Battalion will carry out this task. Furthermore, you will bring to me all the squashed bits of all enemy casualties, plus at least one, live prisoner for interrogation". With that, he lurched out of the briefing room, dragging his goo behind him, and leaving his commanders to formulate their plan.

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It was a cold, freezing morning when Elsie walked down the High Street of Don't Be So Ridiculous Valley. She turned off the main street and into a small alleyway, where there were three tiny shops. The first one was a deserted sandwich bar, the second was a bicycle repair shop, and the third bore the inscription: DBSRVAM. To the uninitiated, this was nonsense, or possibly an optician's shop. To those who knew, it was the Don't Be So Ridiculous Valley Academy of Music. She pushed open the shop door and a little bell on a spring tinkled to announce her. It was a single, small shop-room with dusty old bits of sheet music pinned up on yellow wallpaper and an upright piano against one wall. It certainly wasn't a very big Music Academy, thought Elsie. An oldish elf was sitting on the piano stool, reading The Financial Journal. "Good morning", said the elf.

"Good Morning", said Elsie, "I've come to enquire about piano lessons".

"Well, I know it's a bit of a cliche, but you've come to the right place" said the elf. To prove it, he flicked open the lid of the piano and rattled off an arpeggio of C sharp diminished seventh.

"They're not for me, they're for my... er, a friend of mine", said Else.

"Well, fine," said the elf, "there's no problem. No waiting list, regrettably. In fact she would be my only pupil".

"It's a he", corrected Elsie, "but there is one very tiny problem - he hasn't got any hands. He's a slug, you see" she said, with some embarrassment.

"I see", said the elf. "Yes, that does pose a certain..er, challenge".

"But he does have knobbly bits", said Elsie, hopefully. "I do so want to give him a nice surprise as a Christmas present".

"But it isn't Christmas for ages" said the elf.

"I know, but, we... it's very complicated, but Ergo,- that's my friend,- he is having his Christmas earlier this year... I'll explain it to you later, but in the meantime, what do you think - can you teach him?"

"It might be quite expensive" said the elf, in a worried voice.

"That's fine", said Elsie, taking out a Woodland Shilling and pressing it into his grateful hand. "The only thing is, he is up in the mountains beyond the Avocado Basin, leading an army into battle at the moment, so could you come with me? I have a helicopter which I've borrowed from my sister and I'm not bad at flying it, even though I'm completely self-taught."

The elf thought for a moment, and looked down at the Woodland Shilling. Money talked in Don't Be So Ridiculous Valley.

The money said, "Go on, Mate, you'll enjoy yourself".

" OK, then", said the elf. "shall we take the piano?"

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Just as Elsie had been entering the Music Academy on that cold morning, Ergo had been crawling into position with Sodge, on a high vantage point from where he could see, to his left, the entrance to Pigfrog Command. Beyond, and across the sloping ground to his right, - out of sight of Pigfrog Command, - were the brave members of Carol Singing Squad Number One. Froon was crouching (as much as it makes any difference to a slug) at one corner of the squad, listening intently to his field radio.
"CSS1 in position, Ergo" said Sodge. His cold breath formed into steamy streaks in the air as he talked, - an effect enhanced by the layers of artificial snow which now covered the crags and open ground surrounding them. The distant sound of sleigh bells added to the atmosphere of goodwill which prevailed, - and nearly made them forget the deadly nature of their mission.

"My Goodness, I nearly forgot the deadly nature of our mission just then" said Ergo.
"Right, Carol Singers, - good luck, and off you go" he whispered to Froon over the crackling airwaves.

"Thanks, Boss", returned Froon. The singers struck up, "The Holly and the Ivy, When they are both well known, Of all the trees that are in the wood..."

"I've always liked this one" said Ergo, fondly, enjoying the stereo effect of the distant, live voices of his friends coming across the cold morning air, combined with the radio version blaring from his headset.

"They do a very fine version of "The Twelve Days Of Christmas" too" offered Sodge, who shared his commander's love of music. Just then, there was a nasty, sickening sucking sound that made Ergo think about the end of the World, and the sound of heavy footfalls coming towards them. Ergo swung round. It was Arthur Monkberry, the chief Avocado troll, coming up to join them on the crag, and sucking a mint humbug.

"Give us one!" said Sodge.

"Sorry, last one" Arthur lied. Throwing down his crossbow, he dropped to his elbows so as to be lying next to Ergo, looking out across the terrain to their front. "Cold day", grumbled Arthur, in his Prince Charles voice.

"Yes", replied Ergo. "crisp, I think they call it. A good day to eliminate a large number of pigfrogs".

A large number of pigfrogs appeared just as he said the words.

"Wow, did you see that! Just as I said the words "a large number of pigfrogs" about three hundred of them appeared! Synchronicity! Wow!", cried Ergo.

Sodge and Arthur weren't thinking about synchronicity.

"Ergo, there's hundreds of them! You've got to get the singers away, fast!"

Ergo snapped out of his delirium. "Yes. Froon, Froon, Ergo here...start moving down the slope. About three hundred pigfrogs coming towards you. Stay on your guard". Froon was already moving. The carol singing squad had started to move at a gentle pace, a pace which quickened considerably as Ergo spoke the words "three hundred pigfrogs". The slugs in the squad were driving their wheels, and the other beings were running at a good trot. About fifty Woodland metres behind them, they could hear the thump and rumble of the approaching pigfrogs.

"Keep singing!" barked Ergo, into Froon's earpiece.

"Silent Night, Holy Night...", began Froon.

"No, no no, something faster!" the others pleaded, and they struck up a bright chorus of "We Wish You A Merry Christmas", which, musically speaking, left much to be desired, on account of their uneven breath control.

"I wish I was back in Don't Be So Ridiculous Valley Municipal Accounts Department", croaked one of the gnome-adds, who had been undecided about whether to come or not, and was now sure.

They ran on, with the pigfrogs bearing down on them. Every time they looked back, their pursuers had gained a little more ground.

By now, the leading pigfrogs were beginning to dribble so much at the thought of landing on the group of slug singers that the ones at the back were finding it difficult not to slip over on the saliva of the ones in front; but pigfrogs were built for this kind of thing, and they kept their balance as they crashed onwards, nearer and nearer to Carol Singing Squad Number One.

Then, all at once, the six leading pigfrogs, - nasty, heavy duty ones with scowling jowls and quivering claws, - launched themselves upwards and forwards, using their powerful legs, - and upon reaching their full launch altitude, began their descent, screaming like eagles, spitting and dribbling.

At that moment, five of the saliva-sensitive hats and two belt-carried depth charge packs erupted in a salvo, and the six pigfrogs exploded in a spectacular but gut-rending fountain of fire, spit and pigfrog particles.

The carol singers were lying on the ground, exhausted, but Froon was shouting "Get up, men! There are still two hundred and ninety-four of the blighters!". He needn't have worried. The others had turned and were heading back to Pigfrog Command faster than they had made the outward trip.

"Great, Lads! Well done!", shouted Ergo. "Good old Nige! Now keep on moving, Froon, or we won't coax the rest of them out. You have to get out to the flat bit of land so that our army can swoop down on them from the rocks on the other side." Froon's squad gamely picked themselves up and trudged outwards a little further. They reloaded their hats and checked themselves for bruises.

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Little Elsie and the elf wheeled the piano down the High Street and over some nasty cobblestones until they came to the recreation ground where Else had parked the helicopter.

"I hope you realise it will need tuning now", said the elf.

"I think it needed tuning before!", replied Elsie, slightly ruffled from the physical effort of moving the piano. She went round to the back of the helicopter and took out a ramp which Ergo often used to crawl into the back seat.

"That'll be good for your slug friend to lie on whilst playing the piano" said the elf. Elsie was beginning to like the elf, now. He seemed thoughtful. They pushed the piano up the ramp, and into the back of the helicopter. Elsie invited the elf to strap himself in, and they took off with a loud roar.

"Ergo will be so delighted when we arrive with a piano!", exclaimed Elsie, excitedly. "I know he will just love learning to play it!"

They rose up above the rooftops and the trees of the Valley, and could see for miles, out across I Thought I Told You Not To Be So Ridiculous Valley, which was situated to the north, and away even beyond that, to the land known as Everywhere Else.

"I'm sorry the engine is so noisy!", shouted Elsie, "It runs on tea, and I put Camomile tea in, thinking it wouldn't matter, but it obviously doesn't like it very much. Seems to get us from A to B, though. The trouble was, whereas Elsie knew where "A" was, (where they were now) she didn't know much about where "B" was, (where they were going to). She knew that Ergo was up beyond the Avocado Basin, but had no idea other than that. She did have a map of The Avocado Bit Of The Mauve and Avocado Mountains and so she decided to follow the Unbelievably Smelly River up to its highest point, and then ask someone.

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Next chapter is Slugs Chapter 6