Clovenhoof's Diary: July by Heide Goody & Iain Grant

Author:Heide Goody & Iain Grant [Goody, Heide]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: clovenhoof, devil, Satan, Satire, Humor, Humour, Comedy
Publisher: Pigeon Park Press
Published: 2019-08-14T23:00:00+00:00

18th July

Clovenhoof had put a lot of thought into his stall for the St Michael’s Secondary School summer fete and when they told him that gin palace was not an acceptable option, he went away and thought about it some more.

The fete was well attended. There were several tombola stalls because, apparently, the British public like nothing more than gambling on the possibility of winning the bath salts, biscuit tins, cruet sets and other tat that other people were otherwise going to throw away. The cake stall was very popular although the headteacher had stipulated that it could only sell shop-bought cakes, primarily because of allergy concerns linked to unlisted ingredients but also because of the fiasco at the Christmas fayre when a spiteful old dear from the warden controlled place next to the school had donated cakes made with, among other things, cat food, drawing pins and nettles. Against the tat-filled tombolas and the sugar-laden cake stalls, Clovenhoof knew that he would have to produce something special to rake in the kid’s cash.

“Roll up! Roll up!” he cried. “Come and try your hand on the murder bear.”

Spartacus Wilson, the Artful Dodger of year 8, strolled by with a couple of his lieutenants in tow.

“What’s this crap then, Mr C?” he said.

Clovenhoof, who had brought along a sideshow hucksters cane and straw boater for the event, pointed up at the murder bear with his cane. The stuffed bear was huge, bigger than Clovenhoof himself, and was bound to the wooden platform at the rear of the stall with plastic cable ties.

“Quid a go,” said Clovenhoof. “Pick your weapon and you get three goes at the murder bear.”

Spartacus ran his hands over the cricket bat, garden fork and house brick on the table before him.

“And how do you win?”

“Win?” said Clovenhoof.

“You get three goes and then what?”

“Yeah, you’ve got to win something,” said Jefri Rehemtulla.

“What do you get?” said Kenzie Kelly.

“Why, you young bastards, you get the satisfaction of giving the murder bear a good kicking.”

“Meh,” said Spartacus and yawned.

“I can see you are more discerning customer,” said Clovenhoof and gave them a conspiratorial wink. Clovenhoof reached under the table and brought out a crossbow, a hand axe and a hedge trimmer. “Two quid a pop with these babies.”

“Yeah, but what’s the point?” said Spartacus. “It’s just a bear. Now, if it was Mr Driby, I’d give you a fiver to let me wallop that bellend.”

“Yeah,” Clovenhoof agreed. He hated Mr Driby too, the sanctimonious angel-worshipping dullard. “Of course, you don’t see Mr Driby here, do you?”

The boys looked round. The playground was crowded and it was nearly impossible to spot any given person among the press of pupils, parents and staff enjoying the fete and the afternoon sunshine but the boys rapidly concluded that Mr Driby was indeed nowhere around.

“Now, I’m not saying I gagged and tied up Mr Driby and stuffed him inside the murder bear…” said Clovenhoof.

“You haven’t!” said Spartacus with equal amazement and amusement.

“That’s right,” said Clovenhoof ambiguously.

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