Saturday, October 29, 2011

 


The coffin on the overhead luggage rack was making the other passengers nervous. It rattled at every turn and shudder of the speeding train.

“There, there, dear boy” said Igor. “He is gone, but not forgotten. He will live to see another day.”

The creature seemed unconcerned, concentrating instead on his box of Fruit Loops.

“Not like orange ones!” said the creature.

“Just skip over the orange ones then,” said Igor.
“We have a long trip ahead of us, save some for the trip back.”

“Not come back,” said the creature. “Miss Mon Mon.”

Mon Mon was the creatures name for Monsignor Montgomery who had blessed the creature on his return from the dead and who now resides in the coffin above.

After the blessing the pastor was excommunicated from the church and befriended by Igor and the creature.

“Don’t talk like that,” said Igor. “Of course you're coming back. And we’ll be taking Mon Mon with us.”

The creature raised his arms into the air, embracing the coffin through the bars of the luggage rack.

“No! Not now, dear boy,” said Igor. “We bring Mon Mon home to his family for his burial, as previously arranged. Then, in the dead of night, we will dig our friend out of the ground and into our loving arms. Once home we find Mon Mon a proper brain and viola! It’ll be like old times again. Only with a different brain.

“Mon Mon didn’t have much use for his old brain,” continued Igor. “Not after that fall from the cliff.”

“Sorry,” said the creature.

“Oh, it wasn’t entirely your fault, dear boy,” said Igor. “ His shoe laces were untied.”

Igor, the monsignor and the creature were on a walking tour of the UK when the monsignor wanted a better look at what he thought was a rare species of bird hovering below the White Cliffs of Dover.

As the creature held him by his ankles, the monsignor was heard to say, “Steady now, old friend. Steady. Just a few inches morrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrre!”

The creature held the empty shoes aloft and had a long peek inside, as if the monsignor had somehow managed to fall up into his own shoes.

“Mon Mon?” said the creature into one of the shoes. “Where Mon Mon?”

When Igor returned from making his water, he inquired as to the whereabouts of their dear friend. The creature gave Igor a sheepish look and took a long peek over the cliffs.

“Mon Mon forget shoes!” the creature yelled down. “Mon Mon catch!”

“Oh, dear,” said Igor. And that was all he ever said on the subject.

As the train barreled through a long dark tunnel, Igor and the creature fell off to sleep. Happy in the knowledge that they would soon be having a glorious weekend of burying, then exhuming, their dear old friend.

“Life is good”, said a sleeping Igor.

“Good!” echoed the dozing creature.

“Bloody hell! It’s dark in here!” screamed the monsignor. “Hey! Where the hell am I? Help!”

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