Mythfits by Heide Goody & Iain Grant

Author:Heide Goody & Iain Grant [Heide Goody & Iain Grant]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fantasy, Humour, Clovenhoof, Humor, Comedy, Satire
ISBN: 9780993365553
Amazon: B01H764HV2
Goodreads: 31291755
Publisher: Pigeon Park Press
Published: 2016-09-09T23:00:00+00:00

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Stenton always walked home. After a day in the gloomy glasshouse of Victoria Station, he liked to get some London air in his lungs. Sometimes, he’d stop on Vauxhall Bridge, smoke a fag and watch the Thames creeping eastward to the sea. Tonight, he didn’t. He smoked half a packet between Victoria and Slade Gardens. When the rain started he turned up his collar and hurried down to the shops on Stockwell Road for a pint of milk.

When he got home, he was wet and cold. The Prisoner was on. Stenton couldn’t remember leaving the television on last night. He ignored it, stripped off his wet clothes, made a cuppa in the kitchenette and returned to the front room. There was a garden gnome on the settee, positioned as though it was watching Patrick McGoohan’s latest exploits.

“Who the hell let you in?” said Stenton.

It was the same gnome he had taken in at lost property: same red and grey outfit, same amused expression.

Stenton stood in his pants and socks, sipped his tea and tried to think it through. The only people with keys to the flat were himself, Jeanie, the landlord, and Hansa Schilling. Hansa – West German émigré, second floor resident, professional party girl, occasional provider of pot and dodgy twelve inch television sets – seemed the only rational candidate. But why? “And how?” he added aloud.

He shook his head. “Sorry, cock.”

He picked the gnome up, took it out the flat, down the hall and chucked it in the dustbin on the house’s rear steps. It clattered, spinning like a sinking billiard ball.

Stenton went back in, drank more tea, smoked fags and made a fried egg sandwich for his tea. He settled on the settee to watch television. If he squeezed the cushion tight against his chest, he could close his eyes and imagine Jeanie was still there. The nights they had spent lying together on that narrow settee, watching Ask the Family or The Golden Shot…

In the end, Patrick MacGoohan failed to escape the Village again.

In the end, Stenton fell asleep.

When he woke, the room was dark. The television was a snowstorm of static. He sat up and found he was hugging not a cushion, but a garden gnome. He yelled in surprise, dropping the gnome as though it was a rat, and leapt onto the settee. After a second or two Stenton calmed, swore at himself and got down. He picked up the gnome, walked out to the back door and the bin.

He glanced up at the second floor window, half-expecting to see Hansa laughing down at him. The windows of the upper floors were dark.

“Very funny, Hansa,” he said and lifted the bin lid. There was a gnome already in there: similar, but noticeably different to the one in his hand.

Stenton was tired. He threw the gnome in with his brother. “Goodnight,” he told them both firmly and went to bed.

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