“All I want to know is why?” said Sam. “Why the kidnappings at the Golden Chicken Headquarters? Why all the mayhem during your escape? And why flee to a secret military establishment, of all places? The mysterious Area Fifty-Two? What were you doing there?”
“I demand my phone call,” said the other Jack. “I am entitled to my phone call.”
“And you’ll get to make your phone call. As soon as you’ve answered my questions. Would you care for some coffee?”
“The coffee machine’s still on the blink, Chief,” said the troubled young detective, putting his cigarette stub out on Sam’s desk with a bandaged hand. “We could send the feisty female officer here out to the diner to get some.”
“You could try,” said the feisty female officer, adjusting the arm that she had in a sling.
“And you’ll do it if I tell you,” said Sam. “So, young man, Mister Jack-no-surname, from wherever you come from – are you hungry, would you like something to eat?”
The other Jack said, “Yes, I would, before I make my phone call.”
“Then pop out to the Golden Chicken Diner, would you, honey?”
“‘Honey’?” said the feisty female officer, flipping Sam “the bird”.
“Get us in coffees all round. And eats, too. We’ll all have chicken burgers.”
“Chicken burgers?” The other Jack flinched. “I don’t want chicken burgers.”
“Don’t want chicken burgers? Are you some kind of weirdo, buddy? No, don’t answer that, I know you are. But don’t want chicken burgers? What kind of madness is that? Everyone wants chicken burgers. Everyone needs chicken burgers. You’ll have chicken burgers and you’ll love chicken burgers. Just as everyone does.”
“Oh no I won’t,” said the other Jack, struggling in the visitors’ chair. “I’m getting out of here. Let me go, you have the wrong man. You’re making a big mistake.”
“Get the burgers, feisty lady,” said Police Chief Sam.
“No!” The other Jack fought fiercely.
“Don’t go hurting yourself,” said Sam. “Those cuffs are made of high-tensile steel. You’ll not break out of them.”
“Oh really?” And the other Jack fought. And as Sam looked on and the officers looked on and a chap from the ACME Coffee Machine Company who had come to fix the machine in Sam’s office looked on (through the glass of Sam’s office door), the other Jack rose from the visitor’s chair. The steel cuffs ripped down through his hands, ripped his hands most horribly from his wrists. The ankle cuffs restraining his feet fell down to the floor and the other Jack’s feet fell, too.
Sam Maggott made a horrified face, which matched all others present. He fell back in considerable alarm as the handless, footless other Jack rose up before him. And then the officers fell upon this Jack and awful things occurred.
“Let us not speak of awful things,” said the other Eddie, leading the wobbly Real McCoy towards a flying saucer. “Come aboard the mothership and you will meet Her Madge.”
“I think it had better be quick,” said Eddie, “for I am all over the place.”
“You’re doing fine. You’re doing fine.”
“I’m not doing fine. I’m all in and out of my body.”
“Soon,” said the other Eddie, “there will be peace for you. Peace for you and all your kind. Eternal peace. What better peace than that, eh?”
“None much better,” said Eddie. “None much … better.”
“Come on then, up the gangway. This way, come. Come on now.”
And Eddie was led to the mothership.
And it had to be said that the interior of the mothership looked just the way that the interior of a mothership should look. Your basic pilot’s seat, of course, in the cockpit area, with the steering wheel and the gear levers and the foot pedals. And the computer jobbies with the blinking lights. And the coffee machine.
“Whoa,” went Eddie. “So this is what the inside of a spaceship looks like. What does that do?”
“You don’t really have the time to concern yourself with that,” said the other Eddie.
“Does it matter?” Eddie asked. “What does that do?”
“That does the steering. That’s the steering wheel. Those are the foot pedals. Those are the weapons panels. That button there activates the, well, how shall I put this? Death ray, I suppose. It’s as accurate as a time-clock at a Golden Chicken Diner. And they are really accurate, believe me.”
“Oh, I do,” said Eddie. “All the controls look so simple.”
“Oh, they are. They really are. You can complicate things to death, but it’s not necessary. The more advanced technology becomes, the more user-friendly it becomes. The more simple to use.”
“I’ll bet I could have flown this,” said Eddie. Wistfully.
“I just bet you could have, too. But never mind.”
Eddie sank down heavily into the pilot’s seat. “I think I’d like to go to sleep now,” he said in a very drowsy, growly kind of a voice.
“Well, perhaps you should,” said the other Eddie.
“But I really would like to meet Her Majesty. Do you think I could have a glass of water, or something? Or better a glass of beer. My very last glass of beer. I’d like that very much.”
“Oh, I think that could be arranged.”
A chicken in a uniform clucked words into the other Eddie’s ear.
“And at something of the hurry-up,” said the other Eddie. “It’s two minutes to take-off. Her Majesty is already on board and we must prepare for Operation Take Out Toy City.”
“Well done on the name,” said Eddie Bear.
“I’ll just get you a glass of beer. You just sit and relax.”
And the other Eddie took his leave and Eddie sat and sighed.
And, “Oh,” sighed Amelie also as Chief Inspector Wellington Bellis presented her with another short warm drink with plenty of alcohol in it.
And, “Oh,” sighed Tinto, as he knew that Chief Inspector Wellington Bellis had no intention of paying for this or any other drink.
And, “Oh-oh,” went laughing policemen as they knocked other things on the floor and laughed more as they broke.
And, “Oh,” went the feisty female officer in Police Chief Sam Maggott’s office as a blur of blood and guts enveloped her.
And, “Oh,” went Eddie Bear as he sank lower and lower over the flying saucer’s dashboard.
And oh it was to be hoped that there might have been some kind of something, some kind of solution to all this trouble and strife.
And then, “Oh,” and, “Holy Mother of God!” Sam Maggott drew his gun from his shoulder holster. And the feisty female officer and the troubled detective did their own particular forms of Oh-ing as a fierce metallic skull-type jobbie burst out through the top of the other Jack’s head.
And another “Oh” was heard, and this from the other Eddie. It was an “Oh” of surprise, and one of alarm also. Because in the cockpit of the flying saucer, Eddie Bear had slammed his paw onto the ignition button and caused the engines to roar and the chicken crew to panic and flee.
And then all sorts of extraordinary things occurred.
Which caused more Oh-ings all round.
24
“Oh no, no, no,” said the other Eddie, returning to the cabin with a beer. “The last thing we need right now is for something extraordinary to occur – we are running to a tight schedule.” And he lifted Eddie’s paw from the ignition button. And the powerful engines stuttered and died and all was at peace once more.
Much peace.
“You see,” said the other Eddie, and he grinned at Eddie Bear, “it is this way and …” The other Eddie paused. Eddie Bear was slumped back in the pilot’s seat. His button eyes were crossed and his mouth drooped oddly at the corners.