Then before he got to three, he gave Ed a sturdy push in his back, projecting him speedily out and down into the speeding flow of souls.
“Arrhhhhhhhhh,” exclaimed Ed helplessly, before being tossed, turned, pummelled, aggressed and finally caught fully in the merciless central flow. Whoosshhhhh and there it was again, the fiery laser-like bright light, this time moving like a bullet train towards him. It got louder and louder, brighter and brighter until, zzaappp. Nothing. Sensory deprivation. No sound. No light. No feelings. No cares. No sensations. Nothing and nothing. A darkness that soon overcame all his consciousness. He disappeared.
Chapter 8
Get Smunky
“Dad, what’s a Coalition?”
“Basically it’s when a man without a head is rushed bleeding to the hospital, and they sew an arse on top to block up the hole in his neck.”
“Wow, that’s horrible; he’d crap from both ends.”
“Yep, that’s about the long and the short of it, Ali,” concluded the plump middle-aged man, entrenched in a comfortable-looking, but cheap leather reclining chair. The TV blurted out the news, focused on the new dual party alliance that had been the disappointing outcome of an election full of hope.
“Sweeping legislation, big society, massive shake up, positive reforms, more changes than since 1832. A load of baloney if you ask me. They’ll be just like the last lot, fraudulent and sleazy.”
“I couldn’t care less, dad. They’re so old and boring. Why do politicians have to be boring old farts? They’re about as exciting as a slug under a paving slab,” interjected young Ali, a quickly growing thirteen-year-old teenager, riveted to his laptop and ever-expanding social network.
Similar as Ali was to his father, the pair weren’t great lookers by any means. Slightly fat-headed, though not in a thuggish way, their heads sat upon their chunky necks like medicine balls on tree trunks. Their voluntarily short cropped hair gave them slightly more of an aerodynamic feel but that was combated by protuberant ears that jutted out gracelessly in a way not too dissimilar to a hippo. Their rounded features made their heads look even more spherical, as though they had been sanded into shape by someone who simply forgot to stop. It was like seeing a baby elephant with its parent, identical in everything apart from size.
He sported an ill fitting and extrovertly multicoloured stripy tracksuit top, whilst his dad was equally casual with jeans and an anonymous white tee shirt. They were the perfect pair.
“Is that computer still playing up?” queried Frank, his single-parent father, a bricklayer from South London.
“Yeah,” replied Ali as he swivelled round in the bargain computer chair and gave a disgruntled face-scrunch in his father’s direction.
“Well I don’t know anything about them. Can’t see why you bloody well bother with it anyway. Games and instant messages. Why don’t you just call someone and go and play in the park? In my day you just needed a ball and a patch of grass and that was it for the week. That’s why we have football geniuses like Rooney and Messi, because they had a ball in the street and not a nose in a faulty laptop.”
Frank cranked the recliner back fully, perched a pillow under his head, and went quiet.
“It’s not a faulty laptop. There’s some temporary glitch. Anyway, at least you’ll shut up now,” replied Ali as he span back round to the computer.
“Oh no, it’s frozen up again. I can’t do anything,” he exclaimed as he tapped furiously at every key of the QWERTY keyboard, furiously wiggling the mouse.
“It’s now 6.30 and time for the news where you are,” sounded from the TV, followed by the characteristic BBC news theme tune inter-spliced with: “Coming up on tonight’s programme…”
“A man has been arrested in Hoxton after being caught carrying two holdalls full of guns and ammunition, along with a large amount of cash and class A drugs hidden in condoms.”
“The clergy has announced it will be investigating the molestation of more than a dozen choir boys in one of their Islington churches. Two priests have already been charged for alleged offences in the early nineties.”
“The mayor of London has criticised transport workers for going on strike, claiming they have been offered a fair 0.5% pay rise. The union for the workers has replied, criticising plans to completely scrap all pension schemes.”
“Tottenham Hotspur football club are contesting the rule to close their ground temporarily for excavation after the discovery of an ancient Roman burial site under the centre circle.”
Ed was just starting to come round and could hear the voices getting closer and closer, clearer and clearer until his eyelids, seemingly spring-loaded, suddenly shot open. No pain, no dehydration or thirst and no headache. Truth be told, he was quite comfortably placed on a sofa. Could he have been reborn as a human?