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From davet@hrc63.co.uk Fri Jun 2 12:05:36 1989
From: davet@hrc63.co.uk (Dave Thorpe)
Subject: Nigel The Hedgehog, Chapter four
The Saga of Nigel the Hedgehog
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chapter IV
~~~~~~~~~~
Authors:
Aktar > Sophy > Pete > Gary > Chris > Kelvin > Aktar > Dave > Pete >
Kelvin > Gary
Nigel washed (and dressed???) and collected his belongings but he could not
concentrate. His superhedgehog mind was for once pre-occupied with misty,
hazy , drizzle like thoughs. HIS GOAL!! It was .... too difficult
to consider on an empty stomach. First he would go and have some breakfast.
He snuffled out into the garden of the motel and started rooting out the
slugs, snails and worms - which he much preferred to dry roasted peanuts.
The slimy wildlife of the motel was struck with fear when they realised who
was snorting around in the garden, for not only was Nige the superhedgehog
the best at catching nasty squirmy slippery things, he also had an extremely
large appetite (to match his ego) and so they knew none of them would survive
the raid. However, they were saved by the kindly old lady who suddenly
came out of her room and offered Nigel a dish of milk. Unfortunately this
seemingly innocecnt woman was a great hedgehog hater and she had laced the
dish with strychnine...
Well I don't know what the hell 'strychnine' does as I've never tried it so
I will assume it is like Kryptonite is to superman. Nigel trundled over to
the and as he approached the bowl in a gracefull yet powerfull
way, with his nose twitching in anticipation, he began to feel a little
queesy, as he got yet closer he started to slow down and become wobbly at
the knees, he inched his way forward step by weary step by limp by crawl
determined to reach his favourite sustenance. He was now at the lip of
the bowl and about to quaff deeply from it, he fell to the floor (ie not
very far) and lay there gasping and wheezing, his highly tuned deductive
reasoning would have told him that something was wrong but the strychnine
had drained him of him super-powers. He knew, however, that he'd better try
to get away but lay there helpless on the door step, in agony and unable to
use any of his powers. He was an ordinary hedgehod with an exceedingly bad
gut ache. As he looked up he saw the front door open and a woman emerge holding
a sawn-off shot gut.."Got you you flea ridden little bastard!!!"..she
aimed and squeezed the trigger......
click ... "Dam this gun ! What a pile of shite !" (strong language for
a pensioner - Mrs. Brady really hated hedgehogs)
Nigel scuttled neatly into a nearby bush and lit up a cigarette. Nigel
was hurt, not only was he a super-hedgehog, but he had never had a flea
in his life. If there was one thing Nigel couldn't tolerate it was
criticism. He wanted revenge ...
Nigel crept around to the back of the house. In the vegetable garden he found
some spinach, and rooted around in it for worms ( Somehow they seemed to give
more power than those elsewhere ). These brought his health back, allowing him
to recover from the strychnine poisoning. He waited until nightfall, and then
crept into the house. The house seemed quiet, ominously quiet, as he moved
sleathily through the old panelled corridors. From behind a door he heard a
faint muttering, almost like a priest in prayer. He opened the door a crack
and peered in. The room was candlelit, with rough stone walls, but the most
noticable feature was on the floor. A large round circle of bronze, with a
pentacle of silver within it. Outside this circle were five figures, chanting
in low voices. One was Mrs Brady, one Barry, one Pinny ( who doesn't like to
be disturbed ), and the other two, not seeming entirely to be on this plane,
were Ronnie and Bonnie. As they ceased chanting a terrible figure appeared
in the pentagram. What was it ( the next tory prime minister ? ), and why had
it come ?
Nigel was going to do some more rooting but he had heard that it
leads to middle-age impotence so instead he removed his size twelve hiking
boots and silently tip-toed into the room. The shape gradually materialised
until its identity became certain. It was...
NOT the corresponding femail size fifteen (or twelve or ten ) hiking boots
but, as Nigel's super-sense told him, something far worse. He felt the
slugs, snails and slime SQUELCH in his stomach, his youthful years flashed
before him (just as they always do in these scenerios except that once
the actors/actresses had finished playing out his life they quietly moved
off stage to the amazement of those around the pentagon) and he cowered
behind his rucksack. Our hero was afraid! "OH NO!", I hear you whine.
The creature had been 'beam me down Scottied' from some out of this world
place and was none other than that fat bastard in the extra large Mr. Wimpy
foam-filled suit (that kid-hedgehogs love to beat up) with his size 27-and-
a-half hedgehog sqashing shoes. Thus arrives the new character that you have
all been awaiting. Mr Wimpy had been summoned by those who hated Nigel for
one reason and one reason only - Nigel looked on....
Unaware of our hero's presence, the five collegues continued their meeting
of the evil-o-mobility society. They chanted strange songs, mostly with
'Nigel' placed somewhere in their long and complicated verses and it was
truely clear to Nigel they created this beast to destroy him. His heart
sank at this thought, but he knew he must leave this evil abode for a place
where the rather large Mr. Wimpy could not reach him. He placed his hiking
boots back on, and ran out of the house, trying not to make any noise but
failing totally. The five collegues heard his presence, and altered Mr.
Wimpy to his actions. Mr. Wimpy was after him!
Nigel deftly ran through the house and out of the door in a blind panic.
Mr Wimpy turned, and started to lumber through the house (and I mean through
the house as he was too big to get through a door and simply charged through
the walls). Through all the noise it was possible to hear nigel scream
for help as he threw himself headlong through the garden. Out through the
front door burst Mr Wimpy taking off most of the front wall of the house.
He lumbered through the hot summer air towards Nigel as Nigel ran
through the motel car part towards his car. He threw himself into the car,
threw it into first gear and drove out through the barrier. Mr Wimpey
was now catching up, Nigel looked through his back window to see Mr Wimpie
coming closer through the car park..."Oh shit!". muttered nigel through
his teeth....
Suddenly Nigel remembered one of his most neglected superpowers;
that of the ability to fly through the air at the speed of light. He leaped
two inches into the air and dropped again, leaped and dropped again, and
again and again and then it occured to him that he was confusing his own
powers with those of superman. The shadow of Mr. Wimpee's huge right foot
fell over Nigel and in abject terror he began to whimper and wail for
his mother. The word 'mother' had a strange and unexpected effect on
Mr. Wompie; he stepped back as a wave of misery broke over him, taking in
its wake the fine veneer he had constructed around himself to protect him
>from the memory of his childhood. Nigel, quick-witted as ever, did not
hesitate to take advantage of the situation by melodramatically
unveiling his...
cryptosonichydrojetrocketdoublebacksomersaultjoanbijentlaserfiredbig knife
>from his utility belt. He dodged the huge descending right foot and
lunged the knife upwards towards Mr. Wimpy's groinal area. The knife
pierced through Mr. Wimpy's foam suit with relative ease and whipped off
his large testes in one swift manoevre. Mr. Wimpy's bulk crashed to the
floor, withered and then disappeared, leaving behind nothing but one testicle.
Nigel was hungry, but not that hungry, inspite of the fact that he knew
tesicles were the main ingrediant in the Wimpy Bar's food. He decided on
reflection to leave and continue with his goal. He turned and headed
back towards his car. Then suddenly the testicle groaned and began to
mutate and assume a human-like face, Nigel turned at the moaning sound.
He was spell-bound. The testicle began to roll towards Nigel chanting what
seemed to be some medi eval latin chorus. Then it said in a rather
efeminate voice "What's your name big-boy, mine's Fatlegsmason, the grand
wizard testicle of chaos". Without waiting for a reply the friendly
testicle vanished into the mist as if summoned by some higher power.
-=*=-
Coming soon...Chapters five to infinity!
From: Dave Thorpe (davet@uk.co.gec-rl-hrc)
Thank you for your attention.