The small village of Thatdidntendwell was a buzz with gossip and rumour. It was the day after Halloween and the locals were all talking about Willy Willy’s meltdown at the local pub, The Slug and Lettuce the previous evening. Usually referred to as the Snot and Bogey, the pub had held a Halloween fancy dress party and all was well until Willy Willy burst through the pub doors in a cold sweat claiming that he had seen and heard the ghost of the woodpecker that he had despatched to woodpecker Heaven a couple of months ago.
Unsurprisingly, everyone took the piss and pretty soon the place was in uproar. Willy Willy didn’t take too kindly to this, his mood not helped when Tracy broadcast to the whole pub that Willy Willy nearly had to have a bar of Jo Malone’s finest rose scented soap surgically removed from his rectum.
He was very fond of Tracy and her apparent betrayal of him and his bathroom accident tipped him over the edge. He stormed out of the pub and strode, as fast as his sore arse would allow, up the High Street and back to his cottage.
To give her her due, Tracy ran after him, mortified that she had hurt her best mate and the one who had made her transition from city living to country life so easy. But, Tracy being Tracy, tripped as she rushed out of the pub, knocked the Vicar over as he was entering through the door and ended up straddling the poor chap on the pub threshold. As it was All Hallows Eve he had dressed in full ‘God mode’ so that he might remonstrate with the Pagan hordes whom he expected to find in the pub with the intention of getting as many free drinks as possible.
Tracy tried to extricate herself from between the Vicar’s thighs not just because she thought it unladylike to be riding a Vicar in public but also because she felt something hard pressing against her thigh. The Vicar’s cassock had ridden up in the fall and was now positioned around his waist but to make matters worse he had visited the pub toilet just before entering the bar and had forgotten to do his flies up.
What was an innocent young girl to do? Both were struggling to get up but the more they tried the more entangled they became. Wearing full witches garb suddenly seemed like a very bad idea to Tracy, even her besom had lost its shine. The Vicar’s dog collar had come undone and had poked Tracy in the eye twice. Luckily, Fred and his wife Gwen came to the rescue and managed to pull Tracy off the writhing clergyman and help her into the bar.
‘Thank you Fred, I’m sure that that dirty bastard was enjoying that too much!’ Exclaimed Tracy.
Just then, the Vicar strode into the bar, cassock and collar in place, hair disheveled and with a ruddy glow to his cheeks.
‘I expect you will want to buy me a pint after that little escapade, young lady.’ He said, standing in front of Tracy.
‘You cheeky fucker! You enjoyed that a lot more than you are letting on judging by the dent you tried to put in my thigh!’ Replied and indignant Tracy.
‘I beg your pardon, missy! I think you will find that it was my torch that was making you uncomfortable.’ Said the Vicar, producing said torch from his trouser pocket.
‘If it’s got batteries in, she will have enjoyed it.’ Shouted Fat Phil, raising a laugh from the assembled pub customers.
‘From what I’ve heard, yours needs an electric shock just to put some life in it.’ Replied Tracy, sarcastically.
From the pub crowd came a chorus of… ’Meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow.’
‘Oh fuck off the lot of you, I’m going after Willy Willy.’ Shouted Tracy as she headed for the door.
Tracy went to her own cottage first in order to change out of her Halloween garb and into something more comfortable. She then made her way to Willy Willy’s cottage at the edge of the village, passing three giggling children as she did so. She found his cottage to be in complete darkness but, undeterred, she knocked on the door, then after getting no reply, she resorted to hammering the door with the flat of her hand. Still no reply. Then she tried phoning him but each time she called she was transferred to voice mail.
Tracy started to get worried, more so when the phantom woodpecker started to peck at Willy Willy’s Eucalyptus tree. Tracy crept up to the tree and saw, as had Dick Head The Village Idiot, that the bird was all too real. In fact it was an albino woodpecker, either that or some twat had spray painted it white! Picking up a stone, she threw it at the bird, which narrowly missed its head as it bounced off the trunk of the tree.
‘Fuck off you evil little fucker!’ Shouted Tracy to the departing bird.
She then went back home and made herself a cup of tea whilst at all times worrying about where Willy Willy might be.
Meanwhile, Willy Willy was in trouble. Before going into his cottage he had decided to walk to the bottom of his garden to retrieve a couple of bottles of a rather good vintage of Pinot Noir that he’d managed to blag from a cross-eyed Gypsy one foggy night last December.
Unbeknown to Willy Willy, the Gypsy wasn’t a Gypsy at all and neither was he cross-eyed. To top it all, the ‘vintage wine was a mixture of Vimto, oil of cloves, angostura bitters and a generous dollop of wood alcohol. The term, ‘blind drunk’ had been invented for just such a brew because that is exactly what it would do if drunk in excess, leave the recipient blind! In fact, the man was a notorious gangster and known in the “Underworld” as, ‘Crotch Cruncher Cleveley’ and he worked as an enforcer for one of the leading mobsters in the Capital.
Not only that but, unlikely as it may seem, he was also the nephew of the Vicar of Thatdidntendwell. The wine was payback for Willy Willy’s penchant for stealing the lead from the church roof. Not that Crotch Cruncher Cleveley was particularly religious or, fond of his Uncle. It was more to do with the fact that his mother, the Vicar’s sister, kept on and on and on about how her poor brother’s good work was being spoiled because some village oik was constantly nicking the lead from his church roof. To make matters even worse, the swaggering bastard refused to give the Vicar a slice of the profits!
However, it wasn’t the wine that was giving Willy Willy problems, it was kids!
The following morning Tracy was rudely awakened by a loud knocking at her door. putting on her dressing gown and her new fluorescent wellies, she clomped downstairs and answered the door. She was surprised to see that the person knocking was the local policeman and part-time pigeon embalmer, PC Ivor Statement. An unfortunate name for someone in his profession but to give him his due, he had never let it hinder his embalming duties.
‘Yes, I’m Tracy, what can I do for you?’ Asked Tracy.
‘I am looking into the disappearance of Willy Willy, can you tell me your whereabouts last night between the hours of eight pm and midnight?’
‘Let me think.’ Replied Tracy. ‘Well, at around eight pm I was straddling the local Vicar over the pub threshold. Not something that I am proud of, I just sort of fell into it.
It was taking the Vicar a long time to get up and in the end Fred and his wife Gwen had to come over and extricate me from his Godly thighs. Me and the Vicar then had words about what he was poking me with by which time my besom had completely lost its sheen and I went home.’
‘I will be checking up on your story miss.’ Said the ultra efficient constable.
‘Good, will this be before or after you check your computer for online hate crime, Officer.’ Replied Tracy, sarcastically.
‘This is a serious matter miss, we are dealing with a missing person and every minute of every hour counts!’
‘Missing person!’ Replied Tracy. ‘You are having a laugh, he was in the pub until eight o’ clock last night’
‘Never-the-less, someone has reported him as missing.’ Replied Statement.
‘Who?’ Asked Tracy.
‘I’m not at liberty to say miss.’ Said PC Ivor Statement. ‘’It’s con… confit… confide… fuck it! It’s a secret!’ Replied Statement.
Stacy stared at the dumb fuck standing at her door in utter disbelief.
‘Are you a relation to Dick Head by any chance, constable?’ Asked Tracy
‘As a matter of fact he is my cousin but I hardly see the relevance, miss.’
Stacy rolled her eyes in dismay. Not only was the local copper an idiot, he was related to the Village Idiot.
‘Now, as I was saying.’ Said Statement, interrupting her thoughts. ‘We take this matter very seriously and your attitude is not helping. If you fail to cooperate I will have to take you down to the station for further questioning.’
Stacy burst out laughing, ‘Station, what station? there isn’t a “station” in Thatdidntendwell, you work out of the shed in your mother’s garden and you have lived with her since you left school twenty years ago!’
Just then Gwen Bacchus walked by. ‘Hello, Tracy. Is this prick giving you grief?’
‘He’s trying to.’ Replied Tracy. ‘He reckons that he will take me down the station if I don’t cooperate with his enquiries.’
‘Does he now?’ Replied Gwen. “I tell you what, Ivor, fuck off and leave this lady alone or else I’ll tell your Mum that I saw you taking some knickers off Mrs Croop’s washing line.’
‘I was gathering evidence, if you must know.’ Replied Ivor, belligerently.
‘You was gathering knickers for your collection you jumped up perv, now fuck off before I get my Fred down here!’
Statement’s cheeks took on a dark shade of red and, although he tried to act tough, both ladies could tell that he couldn’t wait to get out of there.
‘I will have to question you again, miss.’ He said to Tracy with as much bravado as he could muster.
‘Next time bring your Mum and she can tell you which big words to use.’ Replied Tracy.
‘Who is that twat?’ Asked Tracy of Gwen as Statement walked away.
‘I shouldn’t worry too much about him.’ Replied Gwen ‘He is one of those Police Community Support Officers, you know, what they used to call “Blunkett’s Bobbies” when they was first introduced.’
‘Bit before my time.’ Said Tracy.
‘Now who’s bullshitting?’ Said Gwen.
Willy Willy undid the padlock on his shed door and went in search of his bottles of vintage Pinot Noir. Unfortunately for him, on his way back to his cottage he had been accosted by young Jeremy Lines, little Joey and his friend little Sarah. They were out and about Trick or Treating.
‘Trick or Treat?’ Asked little Sarah.
‘Fuck off and leave me alone!’ Shouted Willy Willy.
‘No need to get arsey!’ Replied Jeremy Lines.
‘I’ll give you arsey, you cheeky little fucker.’ Shouted Willy Willy.
The kids, however, were too swift for him and legged it down the road before he could vent his anger and frustration upon them.
Willy Willy carried on to his cottage, muttering under his breath about delinquent kids, irresponsible parents and fucking phantom woodpeckers. The kids however, had decided to follow him back to his cottage in order to see if the rumours were true about a ghostly woodpecker.
But, when they saw Willy Willy enter his shed they hatched their revenge. Willy Willy had just got his hands on the bottles of wine when; BANG! The shed door slammed shut. He quickly turned around and, in the process, knocked over a crate of carrots and early sprouting broccoli that he was saving for Christmas. (ever thrifty our Willy Willy). The action jarred his hands and his prized Pinot Noir fell to the floor where both bottles smashed. Then he heard giggling and the sound of the padlock clicking shut.
‘Whose out there?’ Shouted Willy Willy as he strode to the door only to find it securely locked from the outside.
‘Who’s being arsey now?’ Came the mocking cry from outside.
‘Let me out you little fuckers!’ Screamed Willy Willy. He knew he was fucked, the shed was made of metal, there were no windows and there was no way that he could get anything between the door and the door jamb which would allow him to force the padlock and escape.
The only light he had came from a small battery powered lantern, there was no more booze, the floor was a sticky oozing mess of broken glass and (as far as Willy Willy knew) vintage Pinot Noir. The only place where he could sleep was his wheel barrow but he hoped that someone would hear his cries of help before then. Alas, no!
Little Sarah, little Joey and Jeremy Lines were still giggling as they made their way back to the village square.
‘That’ll teach the miserable old sod.’ Said Sarah
‘Too right it will.’ Added little Joey.
‘When shall we let him out?’ Asked Jeremy Lines.
‘Sometime tomorrow I suppose.’ Replied Sarah. ‘Although he might be a bit mad when we open the door.’
‘Fuck that then.’ Said little Joey. ‘He can stay in there, I ain’t getting a clip around the ear from no baritone.’
‘Why don’t we post the key through that Stacy’s letter box tomorrow morning with a note?’ Asked Jeremy. ‘Ain’t she supposed to be sweet on him or some at’
‘That’s a good idea.’ said little Sarah.
Early next morning the three children met up by the horse troughs and decided on a plan. Little Sarah would write the note which they would put in the envelope with the key to the padlock on Willy Willy’s shed. They decided on her because she was the best speller. Then, they had to wait until PC Statement and the pub owners wife had left before they dared to put the envelope through the letter box.
‘Who will put the letter in her letterbox?’ Asked Jeremy Lines.
‘Little Joey better do it.’ Said Sarah, she was really the boss of the outfit.
‘Why?’ Asked Jeremy Lines.
‘Cos your Dad’s a wanker and you probably are too.’ Replied Sarah, defiantly. She remembered only too well Jeremy telling her and the rest of the gang about his Dad and his fascination with Koala Bears.
It was settled and as soon as the coast was clear, little Joey ran across the road to Tracy’s cottage and posted the letter.
Tracy heard the letter fall through her letterbox and went over to the door to retrieve it. She wasn’t expecting any mail and so, was intrigued to see who had written to her.
She took the letter over to her kitchen table, sat down and opened the envelope. Inside was a small piece of paper and a key.
Written on the paper in pencil was the following: –
“Your mizable frend is locked in his shed here is the key.
‘Shit!’ Exclaimed tracy. ‘The poor fucker must have been locked in there all night.’
She pocketed the key and rushed off up the street to Willy Willy’s cottage. When she got to the shed all she could hear was faint whimpering coming from inside.
She quickly released the padlock and opened the door. The sight which greeted her near bought a tear to her eye. Willy Willy was sat on his bench, arms wrapped around his knees, rocking backwards and forwards.
It took him a while to realise that the door was open and that Tracy was calling to him.
‘Oh, Tracy. Thank fuck it’s you. can you see them?’
‘See what, Willy Willy?’ Asked a concerned Tracy.
‘The fucking spiders, the fucking spiders!’ Exclaimed Willy Willy.
‘No!’ Said Tracy. ‘Now come on let’s get you out of here and back to your cottage, you must be freezing!’
She managed to get him back to his cottage and made him a cup of hot, sweet, strong tea. Once she was sure that he had calmed down and was going to be alright she left him alone and made her way back to her own cottage.
‘Who’d have thought.’ She mused as she walked along. ‘That willy Willy would be shit scared of spiders as well as albino woodpeckers?’