#tommy nooka

[tundrafloe]

Noel: “I've always had a good imagination. If I saw a sitcom and everything was made out of cheese, I wouldn't go 'WHAT?!' I wouldn't get angry. I'd think, 'Right, OK, all cheese? Amazing…'”

(Independent 2015)

[ancientbooshartifacts]

Tommy. Where are You Now? Tommy, Where are You Now? Tommy. Where are You?

Author: Thymeth

Year: 2007

Rating: PG

Pairing:  Howard/Tommy, Tommy/Vince, Howard/Vince.

Was this the renowned zookeeper Tommy Nooka? This short, beady-eyed, wide-headed, yellow-skinned man? There was nothing at all remarkable about him. Well, except for his odd looks. But Howard prided himself on being able to look past a person's physical shell and find what was underneath, what really mattered. And the instant Tommy shook his hand and began showing him around the zoo, Howard knew that he had found a man he would like. A man who deserved admiration. A man who, if Howard was worthy, might in time become a friend. Perhaps even a soulmate. Tommy was a leader of men and other leaders like Howard were naturally drawn to him, that was the way it should be. Tommy knew what he wanted done and he managed to get people to do it too. These were qualities Howard regarded highly and always looked to improve in himself. Perhaps he would pick up some tips from Tommy. Or perhaps their inevitable friendship would buy him enough respect not to need sharpening his skills; things might end up just falling into his lap, now that he was at Tommy's side. "And this is the Porpoise Pool," Tommy said, pointing out at the water, "That grey one is Mr Fergusson, that grey one is Shuffleboy and the last grey one is Magic Plaster. We have no dolphins, as you can see, because, and always remember this, Howard: dolphins are evil." Howard met Tommy's eyes and nodded. How could he question such a claim? It would have sounded ridiculous coming from anyone else, but not from Tommy. Tommy had natural authority, he knew everything. This was a proper man, a man's man, a man of action. And Howard was instantly his biggest fan. * Howard was sweeping the Lemur Cage. Tommy had set him to work instantly, telling him 'waste not, want not', and trusting him with such an important job. It was a tiny zoo, Howard had quickly realised, and yet there were so many animals. Every available bit of space had been utilised to its full potential, it was an architectural wonderment. Designed by Tommy, of course. Was there anything the man couldn't do? Howard swept some leaves out of a corner and was met with a quiet squeak. Curious heads peeped down from the branches above as he bent down to find a lonely lemur lying curled up in the corner, black-and-white tail wrapped around itself. "Hey, little fellow," Howard said, "You alright?" But the lemur just looked up at him with huge eyes. "You don't look too good," Howard said and reached out to stroke the furry head, "Are you ill, mate?" The lemur didn't move, it didn't even blink when Howard touched it. Howard didn't know what to do. Did he leave it here and go and fetch someone? Or did he pick it up and take it somewhere? If he left it, what would happen then? And if he took it with him, what if it escaped? But what if it got worse while he was away? Or better? What if he broke it when he lifted it up? What if it bit him, did it have rabies? What would the other keepers think if he left it here on its own? And what would they think if he came prancing by with a wild animal in his arms? Oh, so many questions, why couldn't he just make up his mind? Tommy would have known instantly what to do; he was a man of action, not of pointless thought. Howard would go to Tommy, Tommy would sort it out. But what about the lemur? Again, back at the starting point. Make a decision, Howard, make a flipping decision! He glanced up in the branches, as if the other lemurs could help him. Their little eyes shone dark down at him, uncomprehending. He was getting nowhere, this couldn't go on, he had to make a decision, now. So he lifted the lemur up into his arms. It didn't protest, as if it was half-asleep. "Come on, little fellow," he said and got to his feet, "Let's go and find Mr Nooka. He'll put you right, you'll see." Howard walked back through the zoo, peering into every nook and corner, looking for Tommy. In the Lizard Lounge he found him, standing on a stool with his sleeves rolled up past his elbows and his hands muddied as he scooped dead lily leaves out of a small frog pond. "Erm..." Howard tried, clearing his throat, "Mr Nooka, sir?" "Tommy, boy, Tommy," Tommy said, turning towards him, "No sir-ing here, lad." "Right, si... Tommy," Howard said, awkwardly. "Now, what seems to be the problem, Howard?" "Well, si... Sorry. This lemur looks a bit ill, I thought. I brought it with me, I didn't know... I mean, I... Sorry." Howard hung his head. Of course he shouldn't have brought the animal with him, what an incredibly stupid and irresponsible thing to do! But Tommy hopped off his stool, wiping his hands on his jacket, and came over to him and stood on tip-toes to look. Howard lowered the lemur and Tommy poked it in the stomach and peered into its eyes. "I'm sorry, Howard," he said slowly, "I'm sorry you had so see this. And on your first day too." "See what? What do you mean?" "I'm afraid it is dead." Howard stared at Tommy before looking down at the animal in his arms. It seemed heavier and its head lulled from side to side as he lifted it up again. It was dead. "Did I kill it?" Howard asked, his voice just a whisper, "I shouldn't have moved it. Oh! I'm sorry, Tommy, I'm so sorry." "It is not your fault, Howard," Tommy said, "We all die. Remember that: we all die." "But..." He could have saved it if he'd only made up his mind sooner, fetched Tommy sooner, not moved it, not sat around worrying what the other keepers would think of him. What would they think now? 'Howard Moon kills lemur on first day'. "It is the natural order of the world," Tommy said, laying a hand on Howard's arm, "Some animals are born and some die, that is the way it's supposed to be. Let me take this one and you go back and finish your sweeping." Howard nodded silently and placed the lifeless body into Tommy's outstretched arms. Back at the Lemur Cage, the other lemurs were watching him beadily from the branches, as if they knew what had happened and no longer trusted him. * You couldn't dislike the other keepers, you had to work side-by-side with them every day, so disliking them would've made life hell. But you didn't exactly like them either. They were fine, nothing more. They were simple, not terribly bright any of them, and yet they thought they were geniuses. Megalomaniacal, almost, as if they owned the world and had the right to sneer at everything. And they all seemed to adore Tommy. Oh, Howard, you are blind, aren't you? You're just like them. You suspected it, but you never let it form itself into a conscious thought. These were the kind of people Tommy surrounded himself with, because they're easily manipulated if treated the right way. Tommy knew how to do that. You never learnt, no-one ever listens to you or follows your orders. No-one really seemed to be friends. Everyone accepted each other, but nothing more. Bob Fossil pranced around not really doing anything, Graham worked in the ticket booth, Kerouac padded around looking out at the world sullenly from under his messy hair, Tony Ice the travelling hobo looked a right mess no matter how starched his uniform jacket was. The only one you could almost like was Tommy's private psychic Naboo. You didn't believe in all that card-reading and star-gazing nonsense, but Tommy clearly did and Naboo seemed friendly enough. And so life at the zoo continued. Tommy taught you everything he knew and you did everything you could to impress him. It was almost a competition between the keepers to be Tommy's favourite and Tommy milked it for all its worth. Few workplaces could boast of such a loyal and hard-working set of employees. All for a smile or pat on the back from Tommy. You never questioned it, as if he owned your soul. The shortest of glances from him made your stomach twist, a few words with him in the morning made you smile for the rest of the day. Some disgusting people might have said you were in love with him. It wasn't love, was it, Howard? It was respect, admiration, hero-worship. Not sissy-like love, no sir! Tommy was a man's man, a man of action, he didn't mess about with silly emotions like love. Those day-dreams about him were just a result of an over-active creative mind, weren't they? Your mind was running wild at the moment because you didn't have the time to sit down and write your novel. Once you had the time, your brain would be tamed and thoughts about hiding in the broom cupboard in the Reptile House with Tommy all squashed up against you would be wiped from your brain. * "That is not true!" Howard was standing outside Tommy's office, hand raised, about to knock. "I will not stand for this!" A loud clatter came seeping out. Howard knocked tentatively and opened the door. "Is... Is something wrong, Tommy? I heard shouting..." he asked carefully. Tommy was sitting behind his desk, arms crossed and frowning deeply. "Probably not," he answered resentfully, "Tell me, Howard, when did beating up someone at a nightclub become illegal?" Howard regarded Tommy a moment. "I think that's been illegal pretty much always." "Damn," Tommy answered. "Why? Has something happened?" "No, nothing you need worry about, Howard," Tommy answered, his face clearing, and he looked up, "You wanted something?" * Tommy had beaten someone up? You couldn't believe it. Tommy? Your Tommy, that gentle little man with the soft touch and love of lizards and cheese? How could he beat up a man? Someone had to be stitching him up. The rest of the staff were tense at lunch, talking in low voices. You sat down next to Kerouac. "Well, it's not much of a surprise, really," he was saying, "I mean, what with that situation with Paulie last year." "Why, what happened?" you asked. "New boy," Kerouac answered, "Only been here a week or so. Pissed Tommy off, wouldn't follow orders. Tommy 'most broke his arm." "He did break his arm," Graham chirped in, "Ugly incident, had to separate them meself." "What, Tommy?" you asked. You couldn't believe this. You wouldn't believe this. "Yeah," Kerouac said, "He's always been like that, violent episodes." "I heard," Tony Ice said, sitting down, his hobo-mojo as strong as ever, "I heard he used to drive down to Brighton on the weekends, used to beat up mods. Used to charge at 'em, headbutt 'em off their scooters." "Well, Tommy hates mods, doesn't he?" Graham said, "They enrage him on sight. Rockabilly Rhino he calls himself." "Are we talking about the same Tommy?" you asked, "Tommy Nooka?" The others nodded, sharing glances. "You've been a lucky one," Tony Ice said finally, " 'E's been pretty gentle with you. Ain't no-one 'ere expectin' it to last, mind. 'Specially not now." And Tony Ice wasn't wrong. You'd never seen anyone change personality so suddenly. No longer the kindly, smiling Tommy who'd tell you about his weird and wonderful dreams or encourage you and gently correct your work. This was a freakshow standing in front of you, enraged like a temperamental four-year-old that'd been refused a chocolate bar at the shop. But a four-year-old with the strength and speed of a grown man and the cruelty of a barbarian. Everything he said was venom-laced and every movement was aggressive, on the verge of violence. You lost count of how many buckets of seed you got thrown at you, and how many insulting nicknames could be created by rhyming words with 'Moon'. The man Tommy had beaten up was an important businessman. The story would have created a huge scandal - especially for Tommy and the zoo - had it reached the papers. But it had been elegantly hushed up by a shady figure referred to as Bainbridge. And Bainbridge's silence, it turned out, did not come cheap. In fact, just a couple of days later he was running the zoo. "Right," Bainbridge had barked that morning, glaring out at you all, "I'm in charge now and all zoo business will go through me. My name is Dixon Bainbridge but to you I will be known as Mr Bainbridge. I will have no nonsense at this zoo, I expect you to work hard for your pay and not piss around. I have a position as general manager opening, applicants will report to me in my office after lunch. Get to work. Good day." You didn't get that general manager job, Bainbridge gave it to Bob Fossil. Fossil had no qualifications, and that was the reason he got it: he knew nothing and couldn't go against Bainbridge's wishes. Not that Fossil would anyway; Fossil had received quite a bad punch-up from Tommy a couple of days ago and was still not over it. He latched onto anyone who disliked Tommy and right now the biggest bully was Bainbridge. And Fossil was his biggest fan. The zoo was crumbling at your fingertips, you could see everything cracking, like seashells underfoot. Nothing was right under Bainbridge's rule. The animals were no longer the centre of attention: all Bainbridge cared about was profit. Graham was given an electrical baton to make sure no-one who hadn't paid their ticket got in. Naboo was set to work in the kiosk of all places, and forcefully mocked every time Bainbridge passed. Bainbridge seemed to despise everyone and you most of all, Howard. You believed it was because you stood by Tommy still. It wasn't: he just didn't like you. * "Howard, I need you to do me a favour," Tommy said one day, coming stealthily into the Deer Enclosure, as if he was being followed. "Yes, of course," Howard said instantly, straightening up from where he was emptying seeds and fruit into a trough. "Good lad," Tommy said, "You see, I have set my eyes on a new keeper I'd like to employ and I need you to go and talk to him. Make the final move, so to say. He is quite young, I need someone who's, as they say, 'down with the kids' to talk to him. Would you do that for me, Howard?" "You can still hire new people?" Howard asked and instantly wished he hadn't: Tommy glared so angrily up at him Howard was afraid he might burst into flames. "Yes, I ruddy well can! I still own this zoo, I decide how it is run!" Howard accepted instantly, afraid what would happen if he didn't. Anyway, whatever might piss Bainbridge off was fine by him. And Tommy calling him 'down with the kids' made him secretly very proud. He was down with the kids, he knew the word on the street, hadn't he even started buying music on these new-fangled CDs rather than on old-fashioned vinyl? He left the zoo without anyone knowing and went to the café Tommy had told him about, the one just by the school. And, just as Tommy had said, there sat the boy he had been sent to talk to. Howard recognised him instantly, he was impossible not to notice. He was beautiful. He was surrounded by mates and was chatting with them of all, smiling at everyone. A natural focal point, the one person everyone was automatically and inexplicably drawn to, for no reason other than he was alive and just might smile at them. He ruffled his half-long brown-gold hair with one hand as he talked to a smiling girl. He flirted with her effortlessly, as if he wasn't even aware of what he was doing, putting his head to one side, looking up at her with wide blue eyes, giggling when she talked and smiling when he answered. Only when the woman behind the counter almost shouted at him, did Howard realise that he had been standing in a daze just staring at the boy. "Sorry, yeah," he said and turned to her, "Cup of tea please. And a... a croissant." "Don't do them foreign dishes," the woman answered, "We only do proper, hearty English food here." "Right, sorry," Howard said, rocking on the balls of his toes, "A sandwich then. Cheese." "Right you are," the woman answered and Howard paid her. Finally he could make sure the boy was still there. He couldn't keep glancing over his shoulder while he was ordering; he wasn't a paedophile. He sat down and the teenagers were still there, sprawled around two tables chatting amongst themselves, eating crisps and drinking tea. The woman behind the counter didn't even seem to register them. Tommy had said he assumed they came in here every day. Howard finished his sandwich and emptied his cup and the teenagers were still sitting there. He could've just walked up to them when he had first arrived, asked for a private word and been done with it. Why was he dallying like this, he'd already been here forty-five minutes now, wasting his own and Tommy's time. "We'd better get back," one of the boys said and got to his feet. The rest followed his example, except the one Howard was here to talk to. "I haven't got classes yet, you go," he said. "Yeah, you do, you've got maths with me," one of the girls said. The boy just smiled and shrugged. "Fine, whatever," one of the other boys said, "See you later, yeah?" "Yeah," the boy said and nodded, "Later." The group left, some of the girls waving, and suddenly the café was empty. The boy glanced around disinterested, his huge eyes resting on Howard a moment before returning to a magazine on the table in front of him. Howard could hardly breathe, as if the air had been punched out of his lungs, as if his bare soul had been prodded. What was this boy doing, those eyes shouldn't have to look at something as ordinary and boring as Howard. He belonged on the dancefloor or a stage, or at least somewhere more colourful and lively than a tiny, down-trodden café frequented by nobodies. Old doubts returned to Howard, thoughts he'd not had in months, not since he started at the zoo. He had grown so confident lately, knowing that he was easily the most superior of the keepers and Tommy's favourite. And now just a short glance from this boy had wiped it all from his memory. What was he doing? What on earth gave him the right to talk to - even think about - someone like this? Could he even go over to him? What would he say? What if the boy didn't want to talk? And what would he think of Howard? What if Howard came across all desperate, like a child molester? His brain was buzzing again, noisy with too many questions and doubts. It had always been like that - until he had started at the zoo - and now it returned even louder, dizzying. Everything was muddled up now, ready to pound him to the ground. Only one voice could he make out clearly, Tommy's voice: "Howard, I need you to do me a favour." He couldn't let Tommy down like this, not with all that trouble at the zoo. He'd have to go through with it. "Hi," he found himself saying, standing by the boy, "Sorry, mind if I sit down?" The boy looked up at him, his eyes seemed even brighter now, shrugged and turned back to his magazine. "It's a free country." "What are you reading?" Howard asked, sitting down, hand on the table, afraid he might fall over. "Magazine," the boy answered. "Look," Howard said, deciding it was best to cut to the chase, "I have a proposition for you." The boy looked up again, raising his eyebrows. Could there be a creature more lovely anywhere? Everything he did seemed right, every facial expression suited him, as if he didn't even belong to this world. "Yeah?" "Yeah. I'm from the zoo. I'm Howard, by the way." "Vince," the boy answered, "Vince Noir, rock'n'roll star." "You're in a band?" "I'm in several bands, you've probably seen me out there, I'm a mesmeriser." "Sorry, no," Howard said guiltily. As if it was his fault he hadn't heard of Vince before. "Oh," Vince said and smiled, "I suppose our music's a bit too cutting edge for your taste anyway." "Oi, you," Howard said, "I'm cutting edge, I cut the cutting edge. Yessir, with my edge-cutter, I keep it in my garage." "I've seen your edge-cutter, it's as blunt as your hair-do," Vince answered. "What are you saying about my hair?" "I mean, look at it, what's going on there? It's as if it's not even there, it's like discarded spiders' webs." "Well, it's better than..." Howard began and stopped suddenly. Had they just said those things to each other? Were they actually having something like a conversation? A conversation that flowed this beautifully? A conversation that could seem as if they were throwing insults at each other, but was really just a laugh? As if Vince didn't actually mind talking to him? "Better than what?" Vince asked with a cheeky, little smile, "No haircut is better than mine, not even Bryan Ferry's. I should know." "Sorry," Howard said and looked away, suddenly sober again, "I don't usually talk about haircuts with strangers." But Vince giggled and Howard couldn't help turning back. And Vince's giggle wasn't nastily meant; he was just giggling because that's what he did. And Howard found himself smiling, as if they were sharing an inexplicable joke, a joke that neither even remembered now. But it didn't matter because it wasn't the joke itself they were laughing at: they were laughing just because they could. "Genius," Vince said, still smiling. "Anyway," Howard said, trying to straighten out his face, "I'm from the zoo, we have a job opening and we'd like you to take it." "Me?" Vince asked, his face suddenly changed, his smile replaced with distrust, "Why? What have you heard?" "Heard?" Howard asked, taken aback, "I haven't heard anything, I was just sent out to talk to you." "I'm not a freak," Vince snapped, "I won't be ogled at." "We're not going to put you on display," Howard said, smiling at Vince's silly idea, "We want you as a zookeeper." "It's not funny," Vince answered, almost angry now, "You don't know what it's like." "Know what what's like?" Howard asked, narrowing his eyes as he studied Vince's face, "Do people ask you to work at zoos often?" "You don't know?" Vince asked, leaning forward slightly, "You don't know why you want me at your zoo?" "No," Howard answered, "I was just sent here to talk to you. And it's not my zoo, not really." "I knew that," Vince answered, sitting back again, "Who would put you in charge of a zoo anyway? You'd lose track of your shoes if they didn't follow you around." Howard could have taken that bait in so many different ways, it ticked his insides with all its possibilities. But he couldn't: he was here to do a job. "So, what do you think?" he asked, "Do you want to come and work at the zoo?" "I'll tell you why you want me," Vince said, leaning forward again as if he couldn't keep still, resting his elbows on the table and dropping his voice conspiratorially, "I can talk to animals. You want to exploit my gift." "Talk to animals?" Howard asked, "You what now?" Was Vince pulling his leg? No-one could talk to animals, that was impossible. "I can," Vince answered, "Don't you believe me?" "Not really, no," Howard answered, "How long have I been talking to you, what, five minutes? First you tell me you're a rock and roll star in bands I've never heard of and then you tell me you can talk to animals. Of course I don't believe you." "Fine," Vince said and shrugged, "I'll just stay in school then." "What, you'll come and work at the zoo if I believe that you can talk to animals?" Vince sucked in his cheeks, making his cheekbones stand out even sharper, and wrinkled his nose as he mulled this over. "No?" "And why are you in school? You're not even in class." "I have this lesson off," Vince said, turning sharply to Howard, "I'm not bunking off if that's what you think." "I don't care what you're doing," Howard answered, "Why should I? You're not the centre of the universe." "I am right now," Vince answered, almost coyly, "Why else would you be talking to me?" Howard stared at him. Was it really possible to be that confident? He couldn't work him out. What was Vince seeing when he looked at Howard with those eyes of his, was he looking into his innermost thoughts? Could he see that Howard was already hugely taken by him? And who could blame him, Howard had never met anyone as beautiful. And especially not someone beautiful who also wanted to talk to him. Because Vince did want to talk to him, otherwise he wouldn't have stayed, would he? He wouldn't have told Howard that he could talk to animals if he didn't want to keep the conversation going. Unless this all was some sort of elaborate, cruel joke. "What?" Vince asked, still watching Howard, his face mirroring Howard's expression. "Nothing," Howard said, shaking himself, "Look, my boss asked me to tell you there's a job for you at the zoo if you're interested. If you're not, well..." He let the last sentence hang there in the air, half-way between a threat and a promise. Vince frowned, clearly battling with himself. "I've got exams..." "What, GCSEs?" "Yeah." "GCSEs aren't important," Howard said, "They don't teach you anything about the real world. Come and work at the zoo, you'll like it." "Do you work there?" "Yeah." "What with?" "Hoofed mammals mostly," Howard answered, "And in the aviary sometimes." "I like monkeys," Vince mused, mussing up his hair, "And frogs and lizards. And sealife. I like most animals, really." He seemed to be changing his mind and Howard waited for him to finish thinking before speaking again. "So?" "Yeah," Vince said, meeting Howard's eyes and smiling, "Alright, I'll come and work at the zoo." * You didn't like the look on Tommy's face when you came back to the zoo with Vince in tow, did you, Howard? It wasn't a cruel look. No, far from it. Tommy seemed so happy to see Vince, as if he'd been looking forward to this moment for ages and ages. And as Tommy introduced himself and started telling Vince about the zoo (he used the exact same words and phrases he had when he had told you about it all that time ago), you saw in Tommy's face desire clear as day. Tommy fancied Vince! Of course you didn't use those exact words in your mind, but in essence that was what you thought. Were you jealous, Howard? Did Tommy's sidelong glances up at Vince as he showed him around make your insides burn? Did the way Tommy touched Vince's arm when he pointed out the different porpoises make you want to push Tommy into the pool and never let his head re-emerge out of the water? Was it jealousy, Howard? If it wasn't, what was it then? You still trusted Tommy, you knew he'd never harm Vince, so it couldn't be that you were worried for Vince's safety, could it? Admit it, Howard, your secret's safe here: you were jealous. You wanted Vince for yourself, as if it were you who'd found him. You fancied him, didn't you, Howard? You fancied him the same way you had fancied Tommy. How quickly your feelings for Tommy transformed. When you had left the zoo this morning you adored Tommy with all your heart. When you returned and saw him looking up at Vince with that leering gaze of his you hated him. That's how you knew what they were talking about and what they looked at: you followed them, didn't you, Howard? And you hated yourself for it. Why's that, Howard? You still don't know. Strange things, emotions, aren't they? Tommy showed Vince into the Lizard Lounge and you hovered by outside, pretending to be sweeping. "Move, Moon!" came that dreaded voice and you scampered out of Bainbridge's way. He burst into the Lizard Lounge, shouting at Tommy. You hid quickly behind a corner as they re-emerged and heard their conversation perfectly. "What the hell is this, Nooka?" "Your finger?" Tommy answered. "I own your arse, Nooka, don't be making jokes if you know what's best for you. You know exactly what I'm talking about. How dare you go and hire new people, I never gave you permission." "He has a gift, he will be the best zookeeper you will ever see, just you wait." "You will tell him he's fired." "I most certainly will not. This is my zoo and I run it as I see fit." "I think you'll find, Nooka, it is yours in name only. I run this ship now." "And I think you should remember Zoo Regulation 409, subsection C." But just then there was a high-pitched screech from the Lizard Lounge. "Pray excuse me, work calls," Tommy said. "You, sir, are going nowhere," Bainbridge answered. You heard Tommy squeak and you peered carefully around the corner. And you saw Bainbridge holding onto Tommy's shoulder, digging his gloved fingers deeply into Tommy's flesh, Tommy's face screwed up in agony. But you didn't care. You didn't care if Tommy was in pain. You almost smiled. "You'll see me in my office," Bainbridge said, "You'll come quietly and without a fuss." With every syllable you heard Tommy yelp, and you knew Bainbridge was pinching him harder. But you didn't care, did you, Howard? Because as they passed by, you heard a second screech from the Lizard Lounge: Vince! You rushed to him like a mother wolf to the rescue, slamming the doors open. Vince was standing frozen by the frog pond, staring at something on the bank. He was trembling, as if fearing for his life. You walked up to him, carefully, trying to discern what it was he was looking at. Then you saw: it was a newt. A newt had managed to get into the frog pond and was standing staring back at Vince, ready to pounce. "There, there, little man," you said, the endearment falling so easily from your lips as if you'd been calling him that all your life, "It's just a newt, don't panic." But Vince didn't answer, still staring at the newt and trembling. Could you...? Could you touch him? Could you take hold of those shoulders and gently bring him back to the real world and save him from the newt and become the hero of the day? The newt began opening its mouth slowly and you heard Vince gasp slightly and he trembled worse. You couldn't dally, you knew not making up your mind fast enough could have disastrous results. So you took hold of Vince's shoulders. "It's alright, little man, it's just a newt." Vince seemed to snap out of his trance and turned sharply towards you. "I didn't... It just..." "It's just a newt," you told him, "It sensed your surprise and started staring at you. You were trembling. Never tremble with a newt, Vince: it changes sex." "Really?" Vince was looking up at you, you still had your hands on his shoulders, you were standing so close. "Really," you answered. "I didn't know that," he said and put his head to one side, "It was telling me to get out of this place, that there's some bad ju-ju going on round here." You almost laughed then. Were Vince's words funny? Or was it relief? Or nerves, perhaps, because you were so close to him, you could see the fine details in his face and in his eyes? Or because what he said the newt had told him was true? "That Tommy bloke," Vince said, "Is he coming back? I like him." You let go of him then, as if he'd burnt your palms. * Howard sat in the cafeteria with a cup of tea going cold in front of him, just brooding. It wasn't fair. It was not fair. He'd just rescued everyone from a rampant llama and all Tommy did was accuse him of bestiality and hit him with a broom. He'd just saved the zoo from being closed; that llama had hoofed vicars and doctors and little girls. No-one had been able to get near it but him. So what if calming it had involved him getting off with it? Wasn't the end more important than the means? "Hey, you finished with the sugar?" came a voice and Howard looked up. Fossil was standing there with a cup of coffee in his hand. "Yeah," Howard said, waving his hand vaguely in the direction of the sugar cup, "Help yourself." "Did you see the long-necked spittle-man running loose today?" Fossil asked, sitting down and spooning sugar into his coffee, "I heard some guy made out with it." "Yeah, yeah," Howard answered. If Fossil was pulling a joke he was not amused. "Bainbridge is really pissed, said Tommy let it out on purpose, to make a mess and underdig him." "Undermine him," Howard corrected without thinking, "Is Bainbridge really saying that?" "Yeah," Fossil said, his face glowing like a schoolboy that had just recited his homework perfectly, "Bainbridge has been trying to get rid of Tommy for weeks and weeks." "Oh yeah?" Howard couldn't help getting curious. He wouldn't mind if Bainbridge got rid of Tommy. "Yeah," Fossil answered, "But they've got lots of papers with long words on them, they make the road rocky, Bainbridge says. He can't fire Tommy, it's in the papers. And he can't ever own the zoo until after Tommy's dead." After Tommy's dead. Howard shouldn't be thinking such a thought. Tommy couldn't die, he was a proper man, a man of action, men of action don't die. But wasn't it Tommy who had told him ages ago that we all die...? Howard couldn't believe he was thinking such a thought. Was he really contemplating what life would be like if Tommy was dead? He'd have Vince all to himself then. And he'd no longer live in fear of being beaten up and verbally abused. Obviously Bainbridge would be running the zoo, but perhaps that wouldn't be so bad after all. Perhaps if Tommy wasn't there to make life difficult for him, Bainbridge would turn out to be quite a good zoo-owner. Perhaps the reason he hadn't properly got to know the detailed runnings of the zoo was that he didn't want to have to talk to Tommy all the time. Perhaps with Tommy out of the way, Bainbridge would buy some new animals to replace the ones that had died lately. Life wouldn't be that bad if Tommy wasn't in it, really. Howard smiled as he thought about it. Him and Vince sitting outside the Keepers' Hut drinking coffee and chatting. Him and Vince being on nightwatch and looking after the zoo. Him and Vince travelling to and from work together on the tram system. Him and Vince working their way up the ranks, becoming king keepers. It would be brilliant. "Maybe Bainbridge shouldn't try and fire Tommy," Howard said, looking at Fossil, "Tommy could be made to disappear, you know." "What, in Naboo's magic cabinet?" Fossil asked with a sneer. "No, of course not," Howard answered, "I mean, look around, this is a zoo. There are plenty of dangers out there." Fossil stared blankly back at Howard a moment before the suggestion sunk in and a smile grew on his face. "I've just got an idea," he said, as if he had surprised himself, "I gotta go, I... gotta... pick some flowers." He was on his feet so quickly he almost knocked his chair over and hurried out of the cafeteria, leaving Howard behind smiling to himself. * You don't remember the next morning very well, do you, Howard? The only thing you remember clearly is that you had Vince standing next to you. "Listen up," Bainbridge said, pointing out at the group of zookeepers standing there in front of him, "I have important news. Tommy Nooka, the owner of this zoo, fell in the Ocelot Pit last night." A gasp moved through the crowd. "He was killed instantly, the ocelots munched him down, there was no possibility of escape. I'm sure he'll be missed." No-one could speak, everyone was standing in shock. Except you, Howard. You almost laughed. To think, Tommy was no more, as if your little chat with Fossil last night had made your darkest, innermost desire come true. It wasn't you who had pushed Tommy into the Ocelot Pit. But it was still you who killed him, wasn't it, Howard? Because you put that idea into Fossil's head and Fossil told it to Bainbridge. Had he told Bainbridge it was your idea or had he presented it as his own? If he had told Bainbridge it was your idea, did that mean Bainbridge would be blackmailing you now? You'd have to watch your step. But you weren't worried about that just now; all you were thinking about was Vince. Because Vince was standing there with his hand over his mouth, struck dumb with shock like the rest of them. Yesterday you'd been so unsure if you could touch him. Now you didn't even think twice about it, as if there was no barrier between him and you any more, and you lay your arm around his shoulder. He looked up at you with huge, scared eyes. "Is he dead, Howard?" he asked, his voice tiny like a lost child. You squeezed his shoulder and he snuggled closer, looking for comfort. "I'm afraid so, little man." "And," Bainbridge continued, "The Jungle Room is shut. No-one is allowed in there. No questions. Get back to work. Good day." "What do I do now?" Vince asked, looking up at you, "Tommy was going to teach me everything he knew." Everyone was wandered sombrely back to work but Vince didn't pull away from your embrace. "You'll stay here, of course," you said, "The job's still yours." "But I don't know anything." "I'll teach you." "Really?" He didn't seem to believe you could even teach an apple how to fall to the ground. "Yeah, you can be my apprentice." "Apprentice?" he asked, unable to hide his smile, "Who are you, the Wizard of Oz? No-one has apprentices any more." "If you don't want training that's fine," you said, "Go back to school if you want." You would never have spoken to anyone else like this, as if you didn't care; anyone else you would have begged to stay. But you knew that Vince knew you weren't serious, you knew he knew exactly what you meant. It was as if the two of you had the same mind, a mind that understood the other perfectly. Vince smiled properly now and looked down. "Nah, I'll stay. A couple of days at least." Those days became weeks, weeks became months and soon it was as if you'd never done anything else. You never let yourself think about Tommy and soon he slipped out of your mind, as if he had only appeared in a distant dream. We all dream, but do we really dream? Vince showed you the magic in the world, the magic you hadn't dared believe existed before. He showed you that there were magical things happening just around the next corner, if only you were prepared to open up your heart to them. No-one made you happier than him and yet no-one made you doubt yourself more. Everything he did and said affected you, every frown filled you with despair and every little smile made your whole world joyous. A Mrs Gideon was hired to take care of the Reptile House. You pretended to be in love with her to keep Vince in his place, as if to make sure his ego didn't grow too big with all the attention you were giving him. But he knew you were only pretending and he didn't care at all. You often remembered your first conversation with him: "You're not the centre of the universe," you had told him and he had answered "I am right now." And he was, always.

[textsfromtheboosh]

[unusual-ly]

*standing on your doorstep holding the Mighty Book of Boosh*

Good afternoon, do you have a moment to talk about our Lord and Saviour Tommy Nooka?

[ancientbooshartifacts]

One Blowhole is the Same as the Next to Me.

Author: Thymeth

Year: 2007

Rating: NC-17

Pairing: Tommy/The Hitcher

Trees, trees, bloody palm trees everywhere! They might have made a path or something. This place was completely out of order, unclipped weeds everywhere and branches running riot. The zoo itself may be shabby, but this was downright neglected, like a prostitute's fanny. The Hitcher cursed his way through the dense foliage, catching his coat on the bracken and brushing his hat against low-hanging branches. It had to be here somewhere. He looked at the map again. It wasn't a good map, it seemed to have been drawn by a four-year-old. But despite this, its meaning was clear enough: just above the green squiggly lines was a blue circle with the words 'Porpuss Pol' printed on it. The Hitcher grinned to himself as his stomach clenched in painful anticipation like a claw pinching at his gut. A whole pool of porpoises. Life couldn't get much better than that. He stuck the map back in his coat pocket and stepped over a log into a small clearing. In the middle of it lay a heap of old ashes. He looked around. Was this a part of the zoo? Did people build fires in zoos? Or had he taken a wrong turning and ended up in some other forest? In which case: fuck. He bent down and examined the ashes closer. They were still warm. "Good evening, stranger." The Hitcher straightened up instantly and glanced around, his spine running cold. Was he being followed? Was someone onto him? " 'Oo's there?" "It is I." The Hitcher continued scowling into the shady trees, trying to find the voice. "And 'oo's 'I', then?" "Me, Tommy," came the voice again, "Down here." The Hitcher turned around and a few feet away he saw two bright eyes shining eagerly up at him from inside a dark hood. It was a very short man. Or at least the Hitcher assumed it was a man: it could be a dog on its hind legs, judging by the half-retarded look in those eyes and a tongue sticking out ever so slightly. "Right," the Hitcher said, releasing a breath he hadn't realised he was holding, "Look, squire, I ain't got time to chat, I've got business to attend to." "Oh, I can help you if you like," Tommy said, "I am very wise." " 'Course you are," the Hitcher said. It was probably best to humour the old fart while deciding which way was best to leave by: right or left. "I am," Tommy insisted eagerly, "I know everything about everything around here." The Hitcher halted his thoughts about leaving and stroked his chin. Perhaps this munchkin could be useful after all. "Then maybe you can 'elp a weary traveller like meself," he said, "I'm looking for the Porpoise Pool, might you know where it is?" "Ah, the Porpoise Pool," Tommy said in an equally thoughtful manner, nodding to himself, "I wouldn't recommend you go there, traveller." "And why not?" "I'll tell you," Tommy said and beckoned the Hitcher closer with a long finger. And against his better judgement, the Hitcher bent down. There was something about this man. He seemed completely trustworthy somehow, as if he was so packed-full of knowledge that only a fool would dare question him. And the Hitcher was no fool. Anyway, if he tried any funny business, the Hitcher had his knife in his pocket. "Porpoises are evil," Tommy whispered hurriedly and straightened up again, looking around nervously as if to see if anyone had heard him. The Hitcher looked down at the strange little man and couldn't help grinning. "That suits me just fine," he chuckled, "I'm evil too. I'm the most evil you'll ever meet, me." "There's only one thing more evil than porpoises," Tommy said solemnly, "And that's dolphins. Luckily there aren't any dolphins in the zoo. I made sure of that." "Oh, you amuse me, gov'nor," the Hitcher said and made to leave, "But I'm off to see them little critters nonetheless." "No!" Tommy shouted and shuffled sideways, trying to block the Hitcher's way, "I cannot let you go." "And ya think you can stop me?" the Hitcher asked, looking down at the wide face frowning up at him. "I intend to try," Tommy answered, putting his hands firmly on his hips, "No-one should have to experience the evil that is mammals that live underwater." "The what?" "Mammals," Tommy repeated, "Animals with lungs." "I know what mammals are, Tom Thumb," the Hitcher said, "But evil? Nothing's more evil than me." "All mammals that live underwater are evil," Tommy said, lowering his voice, "They're so evil they're not allowed up on land." "Then why am I on land?" the Hitcher asked smugly. What a glaring flaw in this strange man's logic, visible to the world like a child's blood trickling down cobbled streets. "Well, you're green," Tommy said matter-of-factly. "Yeah? D'you wanna make something of it? 'Cause I'll have ya slashed up before I've even pulled me knife out me pocket!" The Hitcher patted his pocket and felt the outline of his knife through the material, the weight of it heavy against his thigh like a lover's touch. "That's not what I meant!" Tommy squeaked and took a step back, "Green means evil in nature. That's why there aren't any green mammals." "What about frogs?" "They're not mammals." "Budgies." "Not mammals." "Sloths!" "They're not green, they have algae growing in their fur. Don't you know anything?" "Look, squire, I'm a busy man, I 'ave to get to the Porpoise Pool," the Hitcher snapped, growing very impatient with this silly banter. "And I tell you I cannot let you." "Well, if they're evil and I'm evil, no 'arms done to neither. Can't argue with that, eh?" Tommy stared up at him a moment, clearly thinking the statement through, his tongue re-appearing between his lips and his eyebrows wriggling furiously like two caterpillars in a bowl of milk. "Well, why do you want to go to the Porpoise Pool anyway?" he asked finally, "This is a big zoo, there are many animals to look at." " 'Cause I'm gonna rape them!" the Hitcher shouted, throwing his arms skyward as if summoning lightning, his voice echoing between the trees. Everything seemed to shiver with fear, leaves clinging to their stems for dear life and the grass trembling as if in a storm. Evil always had that effect on nature and the Hitcher relished in it, sapping the world around him of its life-force. He lowered his arms again and the forest stilled, quieter and weaker now. He caught sight of Tommy standing there frowning, hands still on his hips, looking unimpressed. "You cannot rape porpoises," he said simply. "Watch me," the Hitcher answered, "I'm pure evil, I do as I please." "As a zoo keeper, I cannot let you rape animals, even if they are evil." "And how d'you propose to stop me?" the Hitcher asked, "I may be thin as a shoestring but I'm twice yer height." "I," Tommy said and quick as a flash had his hands on the Hitcher's hips, "intend to suck every drop of beastly desire out of you." "Indeed," the Hitcher answered, calm like a murderer in a pistol duel, "Many people 'ave tried to still the green fire burning inside me and none lived to tell the tale." "I don't care," Tommy answered, drawing himself up to his full height, which made less than an inch of difference, "I may dislike porpoises but I cannot have you rape them. As a zookeeper I'm proud to do anything to keep my animals safe." "Very well," the Hitcher answered, "If ya think you 'ave it in ya. And if ya don't, 'oo says I won't go and rape them slags after I've finished you off, eh?" "That's a risk I'm willing to take," Tommy answered, pale face stern like a kamikaze pilot's, "It's a zookeeper's sacred duty to keep the animals safe and if I die I'll die proud knowing my life was not wasted." He seemed so dedicated it was almost a shame to sentence him to such a fate, the Hitcher reflected. But he expelled that thought instantly. If this man was willing to risk his life for a couple of wannabe dolphins, so be it. And the Hitcher was not someone to turn down a free blowjob. "Go on then, Thumbelina. Rock me boat before I harpoon yer babies." And even before the Hitcher had finished that sentence, Tommy had begun unbuttoning his trousers. A chilly wisp of air drifted up the Hitcher's legs as Tommy pulled them down. But the cold was instantly forgotten as Tommy shuffled closer and rested his chest against the Hitcher's knobbly knees, one arm around the Hitcher's leg and his other hand wrapping around the Hitcher's cock. He seemed completely unafraid, face set in stern concentration like a chimney sweep balancing on top of a chimney. As his hand began moving, tantalisingly rough and warm, the Hitcher knew this was someone who would not give up his claim on life easily. And as the Hitcher thought of Tommy withering in pain at his feet, his excitement grew and the porpoises slipped further and further from his mind with every stoke of Tommy's hand. Tommy dipped forward and slipped his mouth around the Hitcher's cock and involuntarily the Hitcher gasped, the heated sensation taking him by surprise. Tommy's mouth was like liquid lead around him, heavy and airless and hot. And as Tommy moved, mouth and hand as one, the Hitcher growled, his eyes slipping shut against it all and his knees weakening unfairly. How dared this man reduce him to a whimpering stick of goo like this? The Hitcher couldn't have that. He grabbed hold of the back of Tommy's hooded head, clawing back his lost control. "Let go," Tommy snapped, pulling away and leaving the Hitcher's cock wet and suddenly icy cold, "Let go or I bite." "I don't think so, squire," the Hitcher answered and forced Tommy's face back towards his crotch, "I'm evil; I do as I please." "Is that your excuse for everything? You're evil?" "Yes, now suck or I'll rape yer baby pandas as well." Tommy frowned up at the Hitcher before setting to work again. But whatever little passion Tommy might have had earlier was gone now and he seemed just to want to get it over with, truly living up to his words about sucking every last drop of beastly desire out of the Hitcher, the pressure like quicksand around the Hitcher's cock, greater than ever. And the Hitcher, evil as always, watched on in perverse enjoyment as Tommy worked ferociously, cheeks tight and droplets of sweat on his forehead inside his hood. But he didn't back down, fingers digging into the Hitcher's leg, growling. And like a balloon on the verge of bursting, the Hitcher balanced precariously on the edge of orgasm, refusing himself to let go just yet, wanting to see how far Tommy could be pushed. But Tommy was determined, fierce and never-relenting, and before he really knew it, like when dusk tiptoes unnoticed into night, the Hitcher came deep in Tommy's throat. Tommy tried to pull free but the Hitcher held him in place, dizzy as if on opium as he rode out the orgasm, forcing himself to stay upright, his legs unreliable like jellied eels. Tommy groaned again as if he was choking on mud and the Hitcher let him go. He almost toppled backwards and started coughing, hands on his chest. "I warned ya," the Hitcher said and pulled his trousers back on, "Ya ain't got what it takes." Any second now Tommy would keel over and die like a seabird in an oil spill. But Tommy kept to his feet, coughing roughly, bent over like an old woman but certainly not dead. "Oi," the Hitcher said, giving Tommy a kick in the shin, "Why ain't ya dead?" Tommy coughed one last time and looked up slowly. "Cheese?" he whizzed breathlessly. "Cheese?" the Hitcher asked, "Why ain't ya dead, you're supposed to be dead. No-one ever survives me voodoo milk." "Cheese?" Tommy repeated and patted his chest, "Let us dance." So Tommy refused to die, did he? Decided to go mad instead? Well, the Hitcher could always slash him up. "We all dance, but do we really dance?" Tommy said, grinning widely up at the Hitcher. Or, the Hitcher reflected, why get his knife all bloody? This lunatic wouldn't survive three minutes alone out here. Why waste his energy on the freak show when he could spend it on much more rewarding things? Like raping porpoises. "Right, squire," the Hitcher said, "I'm off. Good day to you." "Remember," Tommy said, turning unsteadily as the Hitcher left, "Porpoises are evil!" "They are evil," the Hitcher answered, unable to hide a smirk, "But are they really evil?" He could almost hear Tommy's brain trying to work out that puzzle as he pushed his way back between some trees. This day would go down in history as one of the better: not only would he have a whole pool of porpoises to himself, but he had also driven a zookeeper mad. Being evil had to be the best thing in the world.

[hug-me-imma-misha-minion-bl-blog]

Your friend is dead, eaten by wolves.

By what? Wolves...

[textsfromtheboosh]

[wolvesunicornsandnoelfielding]

[jonnyhavoc138-blog]

Another day another gif by me.

[ancientbooshartifacts]

Ok, Honey Pot!

Author: Thymeth

Year: 2006

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Bob Fossil/Dixon Bainbridge

The hand went up and a flash of light blinded momentarily. But too quickly the world was back into focus and the knife was on its way down again. It plunged into the newt's stomach and the sand turned green and brown and grey and red. "Don't!" "Shut up, Robert, you little coward. God, you're such a cry-baby." * "Mommy?" "What?" she snapped, her arms deep in bread dough. "What's 'love'?" She turned and glared at him. "Love doesn't exist, littleums," she said in a deadly-sweet voice that made Robert take a step backwards. "But," he stuttered, "Miss Smith said that love's the biggest thing in the world and I thought you'd... y'know... seen it...?" * "Mommy?" "What?" she snapped, bent over the potato plants. "Where's Daddy?" She straightened up slowly and Robert wished he hadn't said anything. Stupid, stupid, stupid! "You know where Daddy is, you ungrateful thing," she said with a smile, "Really, child, I would have thought not even you were that dumb." "But," Robert said, "The Second World War ended years ago, Miss Smith said." "Miss Smith can go stick the war up her ass!" Robert fled. * They would have picnics down by the creek and Mommy would let them build a fire and they would roast apples and sit around until the sun set. She would tell them stories about animals in other countries and answer their questions with a smile. * "Robert pissed in the bed again." Robert didn't even need to look up to see Wilbur's smug grin. "You horrid, disgusting child," Mommy said and slapped Robert hard across the cheek. Robert kept his eyes on his porridge. Robert kept himself awake that night and hid in the cupboard. He could just make out his bed in the tiny half-dark room, a bundle of clothes under the duvet looking very much like a person. The door opened and Wilbur came tiptoeing in. Robert watched him piss in the bed and leave. "Mommy, Robert pissed in the bed again," Wilbur said the next morning. "I didn't!" Robert protested. "You did!" Wilbur said. "I didn't! Mommy!" Robert turned indignantly to Mommy. She stood by the stove, hand on hip just watching them. "I didn't! It was Wilbur. I saw him, I did!" "Stop lying," she said to no-one in particular and turned away. Wilbur stuck his tongue out. * "Mommy!" "What?" Mommy snapped, hauling the heavy laundry basket out into the yard. "Mommy, look," Robert said and showed her the tiny bird he'd found on his way home from school, "I think it's been hit by a car." "Oh, the poor thing," Mommy said and patted Robert's hair, "You're such a good boy, Robert. Come on, we'd better give it some water." Mommy sent Wilbur to stay with the neighbours that afternoon and she and Robert and the little bird hitch-hiked into town on a truck and went to the zoo. A kind, old man took the bird and said he'd take care of it. Robert had wanted to stay and help him, but Mommy dragged him with her and they walked around the zoo looking at all the different animals. She squeezed his hand and pretended to hide behind him when they came to the lions' cage. He laughed and so did she. They had ice-cream on the way home. * "You horrible thing! I hate you! You spawn of dirt, you make me sick!" Robert sat quietly with his head bent over his homework listening to Mommy shouting at Wilbur. He heard teeth rattling as Mommy shook him and the sharp sound of her hand slapping his face. The torrent of abuse continued and Robert bend closer over the book, trying to make himself as tiny as possible. The words in front of him swam together, letters swapping places and making no sense. 'And they lived happily ever after.' * "Ah, Robert Fossil." The man rose and held out his hand. Robert took it. "So," the man said as they sat down, "You wanted a bit of careers advice." "Yeah." "Do you have anything particular in mind?" "I'd," Robert said, looking down at his hands, "I'd like to be a vet." "Uh-huh," the man said and Robert heard him ruffle through some papers, "I don't think you'll manage that with your grades." * "And his name was?" Mr Jones glanced out over the disinterested class. "Robert," he said. Robert jerked his head up and stared at Mr Jones. He knew this. He fucking knew it. "Er..." he said. What was it? He had fucking known it just seconds ago. "Er..." he stalled, waving his hand in front of him. A few of the girls giggled and Robert's mind went even blanker. He knew what the man looked like but he couldn't remember the name. "The slick-haired black moustached guy!" he blurted out. A second everything was quiet, then the whole classroom exploded in laughter. Robert frowned. He knew now that he was the dunce Mommy had always said he was. He saw Mr Jones hide a smile behind his hand. "Almost, Bobby," he said, in a strangely kind voice, "The answer is indeed Adolf Hitler." * "Mommy hates you, you know." Robert looked up from the book he couldn't read. "She hates you too," he mumbled. "So? I'm leaving this dump. Wanna come with me?" "No," Robert answered automatically, regretting it instantly, "Where?" "England." "Why?" "Dunno, sounds cool. Wanna come?" "Sure, why not." "Ok, we leave on Thursday. Don't be late." * The next day Wilbur was gone, leaving only a short letter behind. "Gon to Ingland. Not caming hom nevr. -Wilbur." * Robert gave up on school. He didn't care any more. The only reason he went at all was to get away from Mommy. The other kids would flock around him and make him talk, and laugh when he couldn't think of the word and made up new ones. He started doing it consciously and soon he couldn't stop. They called him Bob and he made them laugh. * "Despicable child, useless thing! I hate you! You should never have been born!" Bob only half-listened. It was much easier pretending he didn't understand. "Yeah, well, I'm leaving! I'm going to Vietnam!" he found himself shouting and stomped out of the room. He threw some things into a suitcase and he was free. * The boat reached England several months later. They paid him quite well, or so Bob thought, and he went ashore. * 'Zookeeper wanted. No experience necessary. Apply within. Ask for Tommy Nooka.' * "Bob," Tommy said one day a few years later, "Meet Howard Moon." Bob looked up from the newts he was attending and saw a tall, scruffy, brown-haired guy with a moustache. "That's Bob Fossil there," Tommy said to Howard Moon, "Used to be my pupil, him." "Used to?" Bob interrupted. "Yes, training's over," Tommy said, "Howard's my new pupil. You're your own man now. You've been upgraded to a proper zookeeper." "But..." Bob said. But Tommy was already leaving, his hand on Howard Moon's back. "Remember, Howard," he said, "Dolphins are evil." * "Hi," a woman's voice said. "Hi," Bob answered, not looking up from the peanuts floating in the spilt beer on the bar counter. "Why the long face?" "I've been promoted," Bob said. "Oh," she answered and touched his arm, "Hey, let's get married!" * 'Dear Mrs Fossil. We regret to inform you that your son had been killed in combat. He died a hero. Best regards, The American Army, Vietnam Division." Bob read Little Wife's note again and stuck it in the envelope and posted it. He was truly free now. Little Wife had set him free. She could do anything. * "I'm getting old," Tommy said, addressing the keepers assembled in his office, "I can't run this zoo much longer. But I don't want to sell it to some stranger; I want one of you to have it. Keep it running like I have, following my principles. I'll be watching you these next few days and make my choice." As the keepers left, talking excitedly amongst themselves, Tommy beckoned Bob to stay. Tommy closed the door. "I already know who I want to give the zoo to," he said, looking up at Bob with a smile, "And I want to hear what you think." Bob's heart jumped in his chest. Had Tommy chosen him? Could it really be? "Yeah, sure," he answered, fidgeting nervously. "I want to give it to Howard Moon." * "Howard Moon, that jazz-fucker?" Tiny Wife exclaimed, "That's an outrage! We have to do something about this." * Bob followed her orders and before anyone really knew what had happened, Tommy was locked in the Jungle Room and the other keepers told that he had been eaten by ocelots. Bob was now the owner of the zoo. * 'Posishun as hed kiiper open. Apli to Bob Fossil.' By rights, Howard Moon should have gotten the job instantly, but Bob delayed, trying to find some fault with him. * "Alright?" Bob turned and found himself staring up into a face he couldn't place. He couldn't quite decide if this was a guy or a girl even. "Do I know you?" "I'm Vince," the boy-girl answered, "You hired me." "Did I?" "Well, Howard hired me, really," Vince chatted on, "He's told me everything about you." "Howard Moon hired you?" Bob still couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. "Yeah," Vince said with a grin, "Said GCSE's weren't important, said..." But Bob didn't hear the rest; he was half-way to his office already. "Moon!" he shouted over the intercom, "Get your blue-pantied ass to my office now!" "You wanted to see me, Mr Fossil," Moon said, closing the door behind him. "I just met someone you hired," Bob said, standing behind his desk, hands on hips. "You met Vince," Moon said, his face lighting up, "Isn't he a find?" "I hire people 'round here!" Fossil shouted, "This is my zoo!" "You didn't mind when I hired Naboo," Moon protested, pointing at Naboo sitting as if frozen on the stool next to the desk. "That's different, dingo piss," Bob shouted, "Naboo's useful. He's unique. This zoo is already overrun by zookeepers as it is." "Look, I couldn't let him get away," Moon said, "Vince can talk to animals." "I don't fucking care if he can talk to fucking sock puppets!" Bob shouted, his head swimming in rage, "This is my zoo and I do the hiring! You can kiss the head keeper job's sorry ass goodbye!" "But, Mr Fossil," Moon interrupted desperately. "Forever!" Bob yelled. * "Good day," came a deep, rich voice. But Bob couldn't look up. The numbers on the page in front of him were right in the middle of a funny dance and he wanted to see it through. "I'm Dixon Bainbridge, the famous explorer," the voice continued, "I came about the head keeper position." Bob looked up and saw a tall, tanned man with dark-blond, almost golden, hair and a huge moustache. It was as if something fell into place in Bob's mind when he looked into those eyes, as if whatever had been missing in his life had suddenly come back to him. He loved his man. "It's yours," Bob said without thinking. "Don't you want to see my CV, my references?" Dixon Bainbridge said, staring back at him. "No," Fossil said. "Very well," Dixon Bainbridge said, still a little perplexed, "I'll start tomorrow then." "Ok, honey pot!" Bob answered as Dixon Bainbridge turned to leave. "What did you call me?" Dixon Bainbridge asked, looking over his shoulder. " 'Honey pot'," Bob answered. "I wouldn't advise you do that in public," Dixon Bainbridge said and left. Bob sat staring at the door for what seemed like hours, just smiling to himself. Then he heard something that sounded very much like a giggle coming from Naboo's direction. But when he turned, Naboo was sitting with his face as blank as always. "My Mommy," Bob said to Naboo, "told me that love doesn't exist. And d'you know what, Naboo? She was fucking wrong! Suck on that shit-sweet, Mom-face!" And he began dancing around his office, so dizzy with happiness it was like flying. * But an explorer can never be happy cooped up in a zoo day in and day out and soon Dixon Bainbridge was off again. Bob could hardly get up in the mornings knowing he would not see Dixon's face when he arrived at the zoo. Little Wife had to drag him out of bed and push him out of the house. He gave up trying to understand the dance the numbers on the page were doing and soon creditors were knocking on the office door, the next more frightening than the last. He even tried to cut costs by firing Naboo, not knowing that Naboo just went and set up a kiosk and took most of the profit himself. * And then, when Bob thought life couldn't get much worse, he had to send Tony the Prawn to Wilbur's Zoo for Animal Offenders. And Wilbur, the cockshit, had told Mommy that Bob wasn't dead after all and she had insisted on meeting them both. Bob returned home three days later almost unable to speak. But Little Wife had made him tell her everything nonetheless and then she disappeared. * A few days later, a policeman stood on Bob's doorstep. "Mr Fossil?" he said as Bob opened the door. "Yeah?" Bob said blearily, rubbing his eyes. "Is this your wife?" the policeman asked, holding up a picture of Little Wife. "Yeah." "And is this your mother and brother?" he asked, holding up two pictures. "Yeah," Bob said. "You'd better come with me, Mr Fossil," the policeman said. The policeman drove down to the police station and him and another policeman told Bob that Mommy and Wilbur had been killed by Little Wife. They kept him there for hours, asking him again and again if he had had anything to do with the murders. And Bob couldn't understand why they were asking. He knew nothing. "She's, well... mad," one of the policemen said to the other. "He's innocent," the other said, "But can we let him go? He's unable to look after himself. He's the owner of a zoo. How is that possible?" "She's a very clever woman." "Excuse me," a younger policeman said from the door, "There's a man who wants to see you, sir." "I'll be right there," the first policeman said. "No, he wants to come to you," the younger man said. "Fine," the policeman sighed, rubbing his eyes. The younger man disappeared and Bob looked back down to his hands on the table. "Good day," came a deep, rich voice. Bob snapped to attention instantly, as if slapped. Dixon Bainbridge! But, Bob almost shouted as he looked up, what had happened to him? His hair was silvery now, and his moustache too, and he had grown plumper and his face was no longer tanned. "He's a friend of mine," Dixon said, pointing at Bob, "I'll take care of him." * "What's happened to your hair?" Bob managed to ask as he sat in Dixon's car a few minutes later. "Dragonflies in Borneo," Dixon answered, "Bastards shat on my head, turned it grey overnight." "I think it's pretty," Bob said. "Thanks," Dixon answered humourlessly, "The tan's gone too. No longer in the Arctic sun now, you know." "I like it," Bob said, "I think you're beautiful." * Back at the zoo, Bob's office was cram-full with creditors who all started shouting the instant the door was opened. "Quiet!" Dixon boomed and the room fell silent at once. He turned to Bob. "I'll pay your bills," he said, "in return for the zoo." "But..." Bob said, thinking hard, "Then it won't be my zoo any more." "Exactly," Dixon said, "But you can stay on, as manager. Deal?" Bob knew he should have thought about it, but he was staring into Dixon's eyes and nothing else seemed to matter just then. "Deal!" he said and clapped his hands in pure delight as he saw a smile spread on Dixon's face. * Dixon's club was classier than anything Bob had ever seen. It was dark and heavy but sort of cosy at the same time. Bob could like it here. "Ah, Bainbridge," an elderly gentleman with icy-white hair said, holding out his hand, "Friend of yours?" "Yes," Dixon said, "Bob Fossil. Manager at the Zoonivers." "No," Bob corrected, "It's 'Fossil's Fun World'." "It's changed," Dixon said and turned back to the elderly gentleman, "He's a bit simple. So, tell me about those scientific experiments you had in mind. I have the zoo now, you know." And they wandered away, leaving Bob feeling ever so slightly lost in the sea of leather-bound chairs and fine-suited men. "And then he put on a Bambi costume and was twatted by an electrical baton!" The crowd gathered around Bob exploded in laughter. "Oh, that is brilliant, Mr Fossil," one of them said, "I'd never have thought that working at a zoo could result in that many mishaps." "Frozen jellyfish, vaulting penguins, porpoise races!" another said, "I'd never had believed it had someone else told me." "Hullo! Bainbridge!" the first one called to Dixon sitting a short distance away, "I like this one. Would you mind awfully if I borrowed him a couple of days?" "Yes, I would," Dixon said, getting out of the chair and grabbing Bob's arm, "Come on, we're leaving." "Spoilsport," the man said. "Watch it," Dixon said, pointing up at his face, "I've been keeping a close eye on your business transactions. You wouldn't want me to let slip what I know about those shares you've been selling." "Bastard," the man hissed, taking a step back and turning to Bob, "Well, it was jolly entertaining meeting you, Mr Fossil. Do mind you come back again." "Yeah, I sure will!" Bob called over his shoulder as Dixon pulled him out into the streets. "You're not to get too chummy with those men," Dixon said as they arrived back at his house. "Why not?" Bob asked, following Dixon into a long, richly decorated hallway. "I don't like sharing," Dixon said and pushed Bob up against the wall and kissed him possessively. * "Do you know everything?" Bob asked. He was lying next to Dixon in his big bed, even though it was past midday already. "Pretty much," Dixon answered, not looking up from his newspaper. "I only know one thing," Bob said. Dixon didn't answer. "One thing," Bob repeated, "That I love you." Dixon turned and looked at him. "Indeed." "Yeah," Bob answered with a smile. "Don't say 'yeah' like that, Fossil, you sound like an American." "But I am an American." "I know, but don't flaunt it; it's not fashionable. Had you been Japanese it would've been different. I only keep you because the others think you're eccentric." Bob wasn't sure how to respond. He didn't really understand what Dixon meant. So he just smiled. "Ok, honey pot!" * "I kinda miss the zoo," Bob said one day. "I got good money for it," Dixon said, "I don't see why you're complaining. I keep you well, don't I?" "Yeah," Bob said. But he couldn't help feeling a little wistful. He had loved that zoo, in his own way. * "I got a letter today," Bob said, "Your friend, whatshisname, I don't remember, wants me in his new cop drama, y'know, 'Big Leg', in America." "You're not doing it," Dixon said simply. "I already said yes," Bob answered. "You son of a fool!" Dixon snapped, "Don't you remember I told you last week how Philips had it all planned, how he was deliberately making it so it would flop?" "Yeah..." Bob said, trying to think back. "You'll make a complete fool of me," Dixon exasperated. "You?" Bob asked, "Are you in it too?" "No, of course not, mush-for-brains, but everyone knows you and I are connected. They'll laugh at me. You're not to do it, do you hear?" "I already signed the contract," Bob said quietly, "I'm leaving tomorrow." * Bob hated every second of it. Well, that's not quite true. He loved the filming and the hanging out with the cast and crew. But he hated going back to his tiny hotel room and sleeping there alone. He hadn't slept alone for years and the first few nights he couldn't even close his eyes. Half a year passed and the show was finally broadcasted. Everyone hated it. Bob was forced into press conferences and meetings together with the director and producer, meetings where they were accused of wasting money and dumbing down and all kinds of things Bob didn't know what meant. After one particularly gruelling meeting, he slumped his way back to the hotel, head hanging low. "Good day," he heard a voice say. It couldn't be. There was no point in looking up. He had heard that voice so many times in his dreams lately. Maybe he was going mad, unable to tell the difference between wake and sleep. Then something touched his arm and he stopped. "You're just a dream," he said, "Go away." "I am a dream," the voice said, "I'm every woman's dream. Many men's dream too. We're bored at the club. Come home, Fossil." Bob had to look up, just to make sure. And there stood Dixon Bainbridge in all his proud glory and Bob couldn't help smiling, the world finally put to right again. "Ok, honey pot!"

[textsfromtheboosh]

[egansbrookheimer]

Cheese is a kind of meat

"I leave this jungle every night, through the dreams that come with cheese"- Tommy

[freddiefoxed]

Cheese is a kind of meat, a tasty yellow beef, I milk it from my teet, and I try to be discreet, ohhh cheese. ohhh cheese.

[ohpierre]

“Tommy would keep me behind after hours for special training.  This usually involved large quantities of alcohol and me stripping down to my underwear.  The idea was to get me in touch with the animals, ‘After all, the animals don’t wear clothes do they?’ Tommy would say.  He was a wise man.  Sometimes Tommy would take photographs of me like this.  I didn’t ask why, I didn’t dare question Tommy, no doubt he had a good reason for it.

“Then one day when I was feeding the lions I felt someone’s breath on my neck.  ‘Howard,’ the person moaned softly. ‘I’ve wanted you for so long Howard.’  Slowly I turned round and there I saw Tommy.  He was standing on a box so that he could look at me straight in the eyes without me bending down.

‘Tommy, sir!  I never knew you felt that way.’

‘Your tiny beady eyes, your long slender legs and your pathetic little moustache.  Everything about you makes me want to…’  And with that he kissed me hard...