The Greatest Show Off Earth by Robert Rankin

Author:Robert Rankin
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 9789085241522
Publisher: For the Benefit of Mr. Kite
Published: 1993-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Fourteen

Simon sat in the hideaway bush that he’d all but forgotten about. A lot of good times had been spent in that bush. Innocent times. Childhood times. When he and Raymond had bunked off school, painted their faces with clay, taken up bows and arrows and sworn great and secret oaths.

Happy times indeed they’d been, but now the bush was gloomy with their recollection.

Simon was still too young a man to miss his childhood. He was glad to see the back of it. But it now occurred to him that he might just be missing Raymond. After all, Raymond was his bestest friend and since he’d been gone, things hadn’t been quite the same in the village. To say the very least of it.

Simon sighed and twiddled a twig. They’d had some laughs in this bush. That was for sure. Remember the time when…Simon paused, sighed, twiddled and sniffed.

“Bloody Raymond,” he said. “This is all his fault.” And Simon scratched at his head. His hangover was gone, which was something. It was quite remarkable how the simple application of three double Scotches and a couple of mouthfuls of sweet sherry could sort out a hangover that had been plaguing you all day. It was a pity that he hadn’t brought any crisps with him though. He’d hardly eaten a thing in the last twelve hours. And he was really hungry now. “Bloody Raymond.”

The sun was sliding down beyond the village. It did picturesque things to the fine old meadow oaks that bordered the allotments. But these were lost on Simon. Simon heard the discordant sounds that rang from the church, where Bramfield’s inept bellringers practised. He could smell the reek of slurry pits and Long Bob’s chicken farm. A dog barked in the distance. A heavy lorry rattled windows in the high street.

Sunset? What sunset?

Simon poked his head out of the hideaway bush and stole a shifty glance down the hill to the chicken farm. He had a good view from up here. The only trouble was that there was nothing to see. The chickens were all inside. Long Bob’s Land Rover wasn’t there. The place was deserted.

“Come on,” muttered Simon. “Hurry up.”

He’d been sitting here for hours in this damp little bush. Risking the onset of haemorrhoids and waiting for something to happen. Anything to happen. He had considered it all for the best to wait until nightfall, before slipping down for a good nose around. But he’d hoped to see a bit of action in the meanwhile. Suspicious men carrying suspicious-looking crates about and going “mumble mumble secret plans, mumble mumble tonight is the night mumble mumble mumble”, the way they should be doing. But they weren’t. No-one was doing anything. It was all very disappointing really.

The Greatest Show off Earth lay before him in the dirt. He couldn’t bring himself to take a peep inside. If nothing had changed in it and it did not now contain the Scribe’s rewrite, Simon was in big trouble. Written out and wanted for murder.

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