oliverprescott

[oliverprescott]

The Zombie Apocalypse - a bit more

Every so often we would come across abandoned cars, look confusedly and then go, oh yeah, the apocalypse!

Eventually, we came across a corner shop.

‘Oh you know what I’m just going to go in and get a can. Do you want a can?’

‘Yes I think I’ll have a can,’ Chris said.

We went inside. We took a can and waited to pay. There was no-one at the register.

‘Hello?’ I shouted.

Nothing.

‘Oh yeeeah,’ I said, ‘the apocalypse.’ Chris scoffed a little. I think He was getting tired of that joke.

‘Oh well. We can’t pay.’ We made to leave, then Chris piped up.

‘You know, we…we probably…we probably could just take it?’

‘You think? Well, yeah, sure. It’s an apocalypse.’

That was the turning point. We stuffed our bags with cans and tins and flour for some reason, and went on. I later regretted taking so much flour, but it’s a basic ingredient and we figured, you never know. I regretted it in…four pages’ time.

It was time to get to know each other.

‘So, what’s your full name Chris?’

‘Chris Tmas.’

‘Seriously?’ I said.

‘Nah but I always wished it was that.’ He looked downcast, possibly the most downcast since I met him, which was strange, I mean, he knew the end of the world had happened right?

‘It could be that now you know. There’s an apocalypse. No-one is going to check.’

‘You know what? I just might well do that!’ He perked up after that.

‘Are you going to?’ I asked.

‘Nah probably not. I imagine I’ll forget.’

‘And what did you do before all this started?’

‘All this? It was only this morning. Don’t be so dramatic!’

I didn’t finish this chapter, because I just fancied changing subject and doing the next one. Maybe I will finish it, I don’t know. Maybe not. Why do you even care?

Twooo

‘Uh-oh,’ the old man said, ‘acid rain’s a-coming! This damn apocalypse gosh darnit!’

‘Where are you from?’ I wondered with my mouth.

‘Nottingham,’ the old man said.

‘Then why you talking like you’re from Texas?’ I may have snapped but I mean, who does that?

‘Just, er, um, just trying out a new character.’ He looked kinda embarrassed.

‘Sorry, I didn’t mean to be rude. I think I came across a bit rude.’

‘A little bit, yes.’

‘It’s a good character. I was trying one from Russia last week.’

‘Oh yeah?’ He brightened up a bit. ‘And how was it?’

‘Didn’t take.’

We’d come across an old man sitting in a chair. He had a gun, but it was one of those plastic guns you get in toy shops. Still, surprising how much of an effect it had.

‘Ways I sees it, we could all be having different characters,’ the old man said.

I had actually been working quite a while on my Russian character, and it was really good. A few people had complimented me on it, and I just didn’t want to make the old man feel bad. Honestly though, his American character sucked asses.

At that moment the heaven’s opened and it began raining acid. With acid rain dropping on his face, he couldn’t believe his eyes, as they fell down his cheek. The old man stayed but didn’t say ‘I’m melting, I’m melting’ in a witch’s accent. I mean, if there was ever a time to say that, now was it. Anyway, we ran for cover in a nearby van. Fortunately it was the kind of acid rain that doesn’t affect large motor vehicles.

‘We’re going to have to find somewhere to live. We can’t keep walking around everywhere, getting caught in acid rain. To be sure, this acid rain is really trying.’ I was doing an Irish accent.

‘Tell me aboot it.’ It sounded like Chris was trying an accent himself.

‘Are you doing a Scottish accent?’

‘What?’ Chris said.

‘Your accent, are you doing a Scottish accent?’

‘Why would I be doing a Scottish accent?’ he asked.

‘Because, you know…didn’t you even hear the conversation with the old man?’

‘No, sorry, I was distracted.’

‘Oh, well it’s…ah I can’t be bothered to explain.’

The acid shower lasted about ten minutes. It might have been twelve. We got out and surprisingly things smelled a little fresher. It was like the tarmac had been scrubbed, much like a person might scrub their back in a shower, but a shower made of acid. We walked on.

‘You know I’m really regretting taking all this flour.’

‘Yup.’

Shortly, we found a house. It was a terraced house, so we really could’ve chosen any, but for the purposes of the book, we’ll say it was this one, number 42. I could have picked any other significant number, like 221B, or 3.14…oh, 3.14 would’ve been good. Still, I’m going with 42. I knocked at the door. ‘There’s no-one in.’

‘It really looks like there’s someone in.’

‘Yeah, and look.’ The door was unlocked. ‘If it’s unlocked, there must be someone in.’

‘Oh yeah. I just remembered. The apocalypse.’ I thought it was a good moment to do that joke. Chris didn’t.

‘You know that apocalypse joke is getting old.’

‘Yeah, shall I stop saying it?’ I asked.

‘Nah, it just needs spicing up a bit. I’m sure you can think of something.’

We went inside.

‘Hello! Hello!’ Nothing. I thought maybe my Russian character might help.

‘Hello, we are here to help!’ I shouted (in a Russian accent. You’ll have to do it.)

‘If this house is empty, we could stay here. It’ll be better than sleeping in acid rain,’ I helpfully suggested.

‘Oh yes, I’d take a nice bed over acid rain any day!’ He said it kind of sarcastically. I don’t know why, because it was such an obvious assertion.

‘Yeah,’ I replied, ‘ain’t that the truth.’ I think this was a better reaction than clocking him over the head, which is what I was going to do.

‘Well, I don’t think anyone is here.’

‘Toby! Toby!’ He came rushing to me. I should probably say he’d gone to have a look around the house but, well, you get the idea. I missed a bit. I never said I was a good writer, I’m just good in apocali, and I’m not even very good at that. ‘Look what I found, look! Come here!’

I followed him to the kitchen, and he went to the freezer.

‘Jackpot.’ The freezer was still working and it was full of frozen broccoli.

‘I mean, it’s a pretty good find. I do like broccoli.’ I had to give it to him, it was a pretty good find. I was probably a little jealous over it, but I didn’t let on. Chris took it out.

‘Praise be!’

Uff, I thought, who is this guy? ‘Praise be?’ He’s such a dinkus.

‘Well I’m going to get started on this broccoli. I’ve got a really good recipe.’

Seriously, who has recipes for broccoli? It’s broccoli.

‘Great!’ I said, ‘that sounds amazing!’

He was working on it for about two hours. Let’s say in that time I’d boarded up the windows with boards and nails like he’d asked me. I’d definitely not just sat on the bean bag playing solitaire.

‘It’s ready Toby!’ I was so hungry. Starving. Famished. Ok, not famished, but the second one, starving. I was very, very, hungry. I went to the table and sat down. He put a glass in front of me, containing a green liquid.

‘Broccoli juice.’

‘Broccoli juice?’

‘Yep.’

‘How did you make the broccoli juice?’

‘With the frozen broccoli.’

‘And what about the broccoli?’

‘Oh.’ Silence. ‘Just kidding. We’re having broccoli as well.’

It was a nice moment, and a nice night’s sleep. It was the best night’s sleep I’d gotten since, well, the night before I guess when there wasn’t the apocalypse.

[oliverprescott]

No Nonsense is a Sensible Way to Die - O. Prescott

This appeared on BBC Radio York in February 2020, along with an interview (with me)

For a long time Jake had forgotten about Paris. Nothing had happened, he hadn't even been there before, he just forgot it existed.

Jake North was a no nonsense sort of man, but he hadn’t always been like that. When he was growing up, he accepted nonsense with the sort of nonchalance a house cat might. As he got older he more and more rejected nonsense, outright ignoring nonsense sometimes, snubbing nonsense even and occasionally bashing nonsense on the head, until he was where we are now. NO NONSENSE. Jake “no nonsense” North, he wished people would call him. Nobody called him that at all.

Was he a spy? A detective? An undercover cop? He was all of those things in a way, and yet mainly the first one. Yes, he was a spy, and he was just about the spyest spy you could ever meet, at least he would be. This was his first mission. The assignment? They had started him off small.

“Yeah uh, North, we want you to do a bit of spying in the 16th arrondissement.”

“Oh, the 16th?” He repeated, as if he had any clue what arrondissements were.

Yet here he was, in the 16th arrondissement with a cigarette in his hand and a mouth on his face. Those two things could only mean one thing: he took a long draw on this cigarette, and coolly let out the smoke.

“Monsieur, there is no smoking in this establishment.”

North coughed on the smoke, sputtering. “Er, oh, sorry.”

Just then, the target walked in. With a strong chin and a long brown moustache, she was an unusual looking lady. She sat down beside the croupier, whereupon North joined her.

The lady placed her bet. “Cinq,” she said. North likewise placed his bet, a one hundred value chip, and maintained a look of daring on his face, nonplussed.

“Sir, you must place at least the same value bet,” the croupier said.

“Oh,” said North, “well what does cinq mean?”

“Five,” the lady interrupted, “Mr…?”

“Jake North,” he said, “Jake North. And who do I have the pleasure of playing with?”

“My name is Catherine Flappe,” the lady said, in European accent that may or may not have been German, Norwegian or, I don’t know, Slovakian, “though my friends call me Cat.”

“Cat Flappe? Seriously?” He furrowed his brow, just like a plow might in preparation for sowing seeds on a beautiful spring day.

“Yes, why?”

“Cat Flappe?”

“Well, you are not a friend, Mr North.”

“Wow, that is a burn if ever I heard one, Cat Flappe.” He was doing some pretty good spying, even though he did say so himself, in his head. In fact he was revelling so long in his head about how good he was, he got distracted from the game of cards. He was awoken by a bartender nudging his shoulder.

“Monsieur, would you like a drink?”

“Mm, yes,” he pondered it long, and answer directly “I’ll have a shot of gin, topped up with tonic water, served cold in a gin glass with some ice and a slice of lime.”

“You want a gin and tonic?”

“Yep.”

“What gin?”

“Just, you know, whatever’s nearest. Don’t go to too much trouble.”

“Would you like it shaken or stirred?”

“Mm,” North thought for a moment, “half and half.”

“Will that be all monsieur?”

North thought a moment, stared at Cat, and said intensely, with a small motion of his head, “and some caviar, the best you have my good man.”

Back to the business in hand, and the business was cards and the hand was the one in his hand, but also the hand holding the hand of cards, which earlier that day had written down his mission: obtain the name of the mysterious and elusive man living on the small island off the coast of Belize. Why on earth he had been seconded to Paris to do that was beyond him but hey, that’s spying.

“I hear Belize is nice this time of year,” North said.

“O…K…” said Cat, a little surprised by the arbitrary question.

“There’s an island just off the coast I’d love to visit. Have you ever been there?”

“Perhaps,” she said, in a sultry voice, sultry like treacle, he noted, though he wasn’t quite sure what treacle was like anymore.

“So…is that a yes or a no?”

The bartender brought over North’s gin and tonic, and a small serving of black caviar with some wafers which he tucked into with the kind of brash confidence of someone who is familiar with caviar, and swallowed it with the kind of disgust of someone who isn’t.

“It’s a yes.”

“Then why didn’t you just say that?”

“Why are you asking questions Mr North?”

“I’m not a spy!” he snapped.

“I didn’t say you were a spy.”

“Good because I’m not.”

“OK. I don’t think you’re a spy.”

“I’m not a spy.”

“You’re not a spy is what you’re saying?”

“Yes that’s what I’m saying.”

“Anyway whatever, yes there is an island. Belongs to a gentleman by the name of Doctor Nottodoct.”

This spying lark was a lot easier than he’d been led to believe, North thought.

“Doctor Nottodoct?”

“Yes, Doctor Nottodoct.”

“Doctor Not…to…doct…ohhh OK, I get the wordplay. Not an easy one to work out though.” North gestured for the bill, which was shortly brought over to him. He checked it out and sputtered at the sub-total, and when he got to the total, he let out the remaining sputter.

“Blinking heck, how much is caviar!”

As North reluctantly paid the bill, he thought, now what to do? Ah, of course, and he looked over to Cat, trying to get her attention with his piercing gaze.

“You’re looking right at me,” she said, “you’re only two feet away. I know exactly what you’re thinking.”

“Oh really?” he replied.

“Yes I mean, it’s fine, I’m quite happy to do some lovemaking, just, you know, I’m right in front of you.”

And with that, Jake North took to his feet and offered his hand, which she daintily took, and offered the croupier his other hand as a fist bump. The croupier didn’t see it, so he coughed. Jake North coughed I mean, not the croupier. The croupier turned and saw the fist, but didn’t know what to do, so he grabbed it instead. North panicked.

“Let’s…let’s do that again.”

North went for a broshake but the croupier went for a fist bump. This time, he didn’t panic.

“Booyah,” he said, and they walked off together (North and Cat Flappe, not North and the croupier.)

[oliverprescott]

Things what I invented

This was published on Points in Case magazine in August 2019, link here:

https://www.pointsincase.com/articles/i-invented-so-many-things-that-you-take-for-granted

I invented quite a lot of stuff. Lots of stuff that you and I now take for granted, except not I, because I invented them. But you, you do, I guess. What things did you invent, I hear you ask, because I’m right here over your shoulder. No not that one, your left shoulder. Here, I’m over…I’m over here. Well, ok, if you ask, I’ll tell you.

You know in summer, when it’s a beautiful hot sunny day and you’re walking down the street in your cool Bermuda shorts and your cool Bermuda shirt, but then you go into a cool Bermuda bar and you no longer need to be wearing you’re shades? You know? And you take them off cause you’re not using them and hook them over the front bit of your collar where they dangle in front of you? I invented that. Before I invented that, people just used to put them in their back pocket and forget and sit down and crush them. It was ridiculous.

Or you know when you’re cooking away on that terrific parmigiano recipe (think that’s how it’s spelt) and then you have to dry your hands because you’d washed them after spilling eggplant juice, so you grab a towel then dry them and throw the towel over your shoulder? I invented that. Before I invented that, people used to just through the towel in the bin or something, or dry their hands on the hob. It was ridiculous.

Or you know when you have a bottle of champagne and you need to release the cork and you loosen it with your thumb? I invented that. Before I invented it, people just smashed the bottle on the floor and licked it up. They’d mostly end up grabbing a towel from their shoulder and mop up the champagne and shards of glass. It was ridiculous.

Or you know when you go to a person’s house and to request entrance you knock on the front door with your knuckles? I invented that. Before I invented it, people would just stand outside the front door for hours, hours and hours they would, hoping the person would just come out as they were going downstairs to buy eggplants for their parmajohno. It was ridiculous.

Or you know when you get a plate of piping hot hot paamaajaano and to cool it down you blow it oh so daintily? I invented that. Before I invented it, people’d just pick it up and say, “too hot”, and throw it out the window and before you knew it there’d be a pile of permijunooo on the sidewalk. It was ridiculous.

Or you know when you’re with your friends and you clink glasses to toast an evening of pleasant beverage imbibing? I invented that. Before I invented it, people would just drink their beverage at the bar. They wouldn’t even bother raising the glass, or sitting down, or inviting their friends. Every just sat in silence. It was ridiculous.

Or you know when you’re walking down the street, and it’s chilly so you grab your scarf and pull it round your neck in a clever doubled way, then put the ends through the loop. I’ve explained that terribly, but you know what I mean. I invented that. Before I invented it, people just tied their scarves round and round their neck until they started to asphyxiate and would look up in the air in faux exaltation and blammo! A plate of hot hot hot parmijeani splats you in the face.

I also invented tipping a chips packet to your face, so the bits of chips fall in your face, and also that thing where you don’t bother putting on your trainers but you slip them on whereupon the backs fold down. I’m a genius. I invented lots of stuff, and no one gives me the credit I probably deserve. But hey, I do it for the good of our evolution as a species.

[oliverprescott]

The Zombie Apocalypse and other stories

Oone

‘APOCALYPSE!’ I shouted.

‘What’s a pocalyps?’ Chris said.

‘Seriously? Where’ve you been living, in a cave? Have you not watched Deep Impact?’ I said.

‘Duuude,’ he said, ‘isn’t that a nineties reference?’

‘No, noughties.’

‘It was the nineties.’ Chris was getting a little red.

‘Noughties.’ I argued back.

‘Nineties! No-one even uses the word noughties anymore you donut.’

I clapped his head earwise. It was probably a bit too far to be fair, the second clap too. By the third I really thought I should stop, and the fourth didn’t help matters. On the fifth clap I actually started believing it was the right thing to do again. I couldn’t get in a sixth though as he’d started fighting back, and then he stopped talking to me for a few hours.

Later on, he said, ‘I was just joking about the a pocalyps thing. I know what an apocalypse is.’

‘I forgive you.’ It was the tenderest moment so far. ‘A pocalyps indeed…’ We both started laughing, and we continued for nigh on ten minutes. Really, there is bugger all to do in apocoli. Yup, that’s the plural.

It was all pretty quick really. I remember working away in the office, and asking, ‘Anyone getting an apocalypsy feeling? I am.’

‘That’s the fifth time you’ve said this in the last week, Toby.’ Sandra said.

‘Well, it’s still true.’

‘Do those reports,’ she said.

Truly, I’d been waiting for an apocalypse for a few years. One day, I was sat in the café area with Felicity.

‘I’ll say this about the apocalypse, if there’s no zombies I’ll be disappointed. Really, wouldn't it be disappointing if there was an apocalypse but it was just a regular one with no zombies. NO ZOMBIES. Because we only want a zombie apocalypse don't we. No other apocalypse will cut it. If we get a robot apocalypse we'll be like, mm, ok, I see your point. It'll be like getting socks for Christmas. If we get a biscuit apocalypse then bite me.’

‘I’m not paying any attention Toby, it’s getting really tired. I mean you’re right, we better get zombies, but really now, I’m getting fed up of all this,’ she said.

‘Did you say, apocalypse?’

‘I said fed up of all this.’ She said it through gritted teeth. Or maybe not gritted, maybe they were just tarmaced. I’ve never written ‘tarmac’ as an adjective and I’m fairly sure that’s not right, but I’ll be damned if I’m googling it.

‘Seriously, I’m telling you, there’s an apocalypse a-coming.’ I actually had no idea today.

‘Really?’ She looked genuinely interested.

‘Nah, aw I just feel a bit apocalypsy, like always.’

‘Oh for God’s sake, I’m not engaging in these conversations anymore with you Toby. I have the end of month reports to finish off.’

‘Oh, let me help you with those!’ She didn’t like that, because I said it really sarcastically, even though I genuinely wanted to help. I’ve got to learn to tone the sarcasm down. She stormed off, much as a storm might do. Martin came in and sat down next to me.

‘Hey Martin. This bloody apocalypse is taking its goddamn time, ey? Ey?’

He exhaled deeply, which might have been an expression of, oh, that again, but I like to think was more, oh! That again! (it wasn’t).

‘Martin, I said, this apocalypse is taking it’s time, eh? Eh?’

‘Yes, I heard you Toby. Don’t you have any work to do?’

‘Why bother, apocalypse is due any second!’ And I stood up, just as the meteor shower flew over and piled into the buildings around!

At least I wish that’d happened. Martin shuffled out, keen to get on with his finance reports no doubt. I felt a little red-faced, which leads wonderfully on to, not chapter two, but the next part of this chapter…

Even when it was Christmas I was saying, ‘It’s beginning to look a lot like apocalypse…’

Finally, finally it came. Not meteorites, or a virus, or any nuclear thing.

In fact, it was Felicity who came in and said, ‘Hm, feels a bit apocalypsy today.’ Then Martin came in and said, ‘There’s an apocalypse!’

I didn’t react that quickly because I was more surprised they were in my house.

‘Goddamnit,’ I said, disgruntled, ‘this has really taken my gruntle right away. I had no idea,’ as they stood in front of me, doing a jig.

‘Nice jig,’ I grumbled. It really was a terrific jig, but I was feeling a little piqued. I really wanted to be the first one to notice the apocalypse, but if I’m honest I had no idea that day.

They didn’t even stick around, so I had to start my apocalypse on my own. I walked out. It seemed a normal day. It crossed my mind that they had made it up…but no. It was so silent. No people. No cars. Hm, I thought, this apocalypse isn’t so bad.

And Chris was the first person I met. He was walking down the street, and that’s when I yelled APOCALYPSE at him. Looking back, I imagine I could have approached him a little calmer. Live and learn.

Well, we started talking again after those first few hours. It was he who said, ‘So, it’s an apocalypse. Oh my God. An apocalypse.’

‘A…pocalyps?’ I said.

We both cracked up again, and it really brought us together.

‘I must say, you’re taking this really well,’ I commented.

‘To tell the truth, I already felt like I was in an apocalypse.’

‘Tell me about it,’ I replied, ‘all these idiots around, environmental destruction, nuclear war.’

‘Yeah I was more talking about how hot it had gotten today.’

Much later, much much later, we’d lost all track of time. It could have been twenty twenty, could have been twenty twenty-five, we really had no idea. It was definitely sometime after eight pm though.

For a long time we thought it was just a regular apocalypse. We walked around for weeks, not seeing anyone else, or anything. There was relatively little danger. Not as bad as we thought. Then one day, we saw a man coming towards us, walking very slowly. We yelled to him.

‘Hey!’

He slowly moved his head up, seeing us.

‘Hey! Are you ok?’

‘Braaaaaains!’

‘Yesss,’ we said, ‘get in, it’s a zombie apocalypse.’

And that was how it was. I mean, we only saw that one zombie for a while. We didn’t even do anything, just walked away. He didn’t chase us. Honestly he was probably the dullest zombie you could imagine. And he had a tie. You could imagine in his normal life he wasn’t much more interesting. Bet you can guess the colour of the tie? Brown? No, guess again. Yellow? No, guess again. Cornflower blue? No, guess again. Bl- look, this is going to take forever. Beige, it was a beige tie.

We even shouted at him, saying provocative words like, ‘hey’, and ‘hello! Zombie!’ Nothing. Also we knew it was a zombie because of all those films. We didn’t even take a moment to call him anything else, it was just BAMM zombie. He may possibly have not been a zombie and was just a man who was a little dazed and confused, but we really preferred a zombie. If there was ever a moment to call zombie, this was it.

Anyway, we got our zombie apocalypse so we were pretty excited after that. It was another four days before we saw another, so that cemented it. We were overrun. Destroyed the world but at least we got these zombies.