Bums-R-Us

Bums-R-Us.

Pete stopped under the halogen lights of the Bums-R-Us billboard and
lit up a cigarette. He was trying to give up, he was already on his
fifth set of lungs, but the evening had been stressful. He had gone out
to buy a new head for Jo and had instead spent all his money on an
attach? case full of mini-people. The head he had bought on an
extraordinary credit agreement.

As his last set of lungs had been on a similar extraordinary credit
agreement too he was now in way over the odds. Jo would kill him if he
knew, that was a fact. He was supposed to be turning over a new leaf.
Another one. The last leaf in the last leaf saloon in the last leaf bar
in town is what he had promised.

Pete held up his fingers and tried to work out how much he owed. It
was a lot. It was more than his fingers. Mind you, you didn't get an
awful lot for fingers these days. The market had been swamped the
previous year with cheap Filipino ones.

Pete took a final hit on the cigarette and ground the stub out under
the heal of his shoe. He was just about to set off for home when the
billboard above him came to life. A crescendo of music blared from
hidden speakers and a blue suited man with a bum-head appeared dancing
across the digitised surface of the hoarding. The bum-faced ad-man had
a red and white rubber-ring in each hand which he rotated in time to
the music. His bulbous sphincter lips sang out the jingle.

"If you want a new rear

Then why not come to here

If your life's a bum

Then get a new one.

Bums-R-Us

Bums-R-Us."

A thought flashed through Pete's head. He could always sell his arse.
Jo said he had a nice one. But no, he had decided, the only body parts
he was exchanging would be because of medical necessity. Bodyobotomy
was not a path he was going to go down. Not ever. Not for no-one.

Or so he believed.

****

"You've been gone ages," said Jo.

"Sorry," said Pete. "Popped into Dial-A-Spud. You don't mind, do
you?"

"And you've been smoking. Fast food and nicotine, Pete, you
promised."

Pete shrugged. Things had been like this with Jo recently. Ever since
he got the job at the Dorgycorp Advertising Company he had been wanting
to better them both. Pete had thought they were ok as they were. He
wasn't sure whether he should try and keep up with Jo or bring him back
to where they were. It was late now. He didn't want to argue. He merely
held out the newly purchased head.

"It's an Asian one," he said.

Jo's face lit up. "What, really?"

Pete grinned, pleased to see his boyfriend happy. "Yeah really."

"Pakistani or Indian?"

"Indian," said Pete. "Hindu. The head shop proprietor even threw in a
red dot for free."

"Wow," said Jo. "That's so in. Thanks."

Pete's grin widened. "Go put it on then. And if you don't mind I want
to watch the end of The Premiership. Chelsea are on next. They've got
loads of new players this year. They might be in with a chance."

"I don't know," said Jo. "What is it with you and football? You're
funny. Anyway, I'm going to put this head on."

Pete watched Jo leave the room and then when he was sure he was safely
out of the way he pushed play on the video. Desmond Lynham was back on
the screen, introducing the next match with his usual aplomb. However,
Pete wasn't watching. He had other matters on his mind.

Sitting down in his chair Pete put the attach? case flat on his knees
and opened the lid. Six little faces were looking up at him
expectantly. He could see now away from the clamour and bustle of the
Dial-A-Spud that there were three men, three women. They were all
wearing the same brightly coloured knitted garments and hats with
bobbles on a tassel. One of the men stepped forward and appeared to be
about to speak.

"I'm sorry," said Pete. "There's no time now. My boyfriend can't know
about you. Last week I went to the pub and came back with an Egyptian
stencil gun. Two hundred pounds that cost me. I don't know, there must
be something about my face. Look, I'm going to hide you under the sofa.
Jo will be at work early in the morning. I'll come and get you as soon
as he's gone. We'll discuss things then."

"But&;#8230;" said the man. Pete could hear him clearly because the
ma was speaking through a very tiny megaphone.

"Sorry," said Pete, "and anyway, Chelsea are on. Just wait until
tomorrow."

Pete closed the lid of the attach? case and as he had said he slid the
whole thing under the sofa.

That was his first real mistake.

****

"Taa Taa," said Jo as he walked back into the room. He was wearing his
new head. He had it in the middle of his shoulders, in the place where
his old one had been.

"Very nice," said Pete.

"Do you like it?"

"Yeah," said Pete. "It's great."

"It's not too &;#8230;&;#8230;"

"What?"

"You know, that convenience store owner from The Simpson's?"

"No," said Pete. "Not at all. It looks great. It suits you."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, sure."

In fact Pete was half-lying. The head did look great but he wanted the
old Jo back. He didn't like the way he kept changing his head. After
the third time it had gotten to be just a little disconcerting.

"So are you going to keep this one?" said Pete.

Jo was looking at himself in the mirror that was on the wall behind
Pete. "I might do. I'll see what response I get at the big presentation
tomorrow." Jo turned towards Pete. "Were you talking to someone just
before?"

"What?"

"When I was putting on the head, I heard voices."

"Oh," said Pete. He nodded towards the tv screen. "You know. Just
talking about the football." Pete held up his hands in the air. "'Come
on you blues!' Chelsea were playing."

"I thought you supported Man U?"

"I do. But&;#8230;"

"You're fickle. That's your problem. Now come on, help me patch up
this old head. We might get some money back on it."

****

That night Pete was unable to sleep. It was a lot of things. The money
he owed. The mini-people under his sofa. His boyfriend's new head. And
that was just the tip of the iceberg.

At three o'clock Pete gave up and got out of bed. He padded naked into
the kitchen. It was hot in the flat. New heads had to be kept at a
certain temperature and as Jo had so many new heads the heating in the
flat was constantly set at full blast. Pete pulled a chair over to the
fridge and sat in front of it with the door open. He spread his
legs.

Pete had seen a film once. It was called Betty Blue. In this one scene
the main guy in it is sitting in the kitchen naked. He is writing. Pete
thought it was just about the sexiest thing he had ever seen. He half
hoped that Jo would come in now and see him and think he was the
sexiest thing he had ever seen. He had thought that once. Pete could
remember it well. It was before this whole head business and Jo's new
job.

Pete was just about to take his third Popsicle out of the fridge when
there was a huge splintering crash behind him.

"What the&;#8230;?" he said leaping up.

"Hands up," said a voice, "and don't move."

Standing where the door used to be were two men. One was tall, he
looked like Godzilla. The other was short, he looked like Godzooki.
Literally. Green skin. Pointed snouts. Webbed feet. The lot. This kind
of human-reptilian cloning was popular in America but it had yet to
catch on here. Pete was surprised. He was even more surprised when he
saw that they were both holding guns.

"What the&;#8230;?" said Pete again.

"In the bedroom," said Godzilla, "and not a peep."

After that everything happened quickly. Jo was woken. Pete was tied
back to back with Jo and then the pair of them were left there, on the
floor at the foot of the bed. Every so often loud crashing noises would
come from living-room.

"What the hell's going on?" whispered Jo.

"I don't know," whispered back Pete.

"You haven't been up to your old tricks, have you?" whispered
Jo.

"These crocs have got nothing to do with me," whispered Pete. He
thought of the extraordinary credit agreement he had recently signed at
the head shop. It couldn't be that. He had at least a week. "I haven't
done anything. I swear."

Or so he thought. Because then Godzilla and Godzooki came back into
the room. In his left claw, like he was just off to the office,
Godzooki was holding the attach? case. As Pete and Jo were tied back to
back and as Pete was on the top Jo didn't have a view of what Godzooki
was holding. For this small fact at least, Pete was glad.

"We've got what we came for," said Godzilla. "You've been lucky this
time."

"Very lucky," said Godzooki.

"But a word of warning. In future don't poke your nose in matters that
don't concern you or we'll be doing more than just tying you up."

"There's a growing market in body parts and we have to see you again,
we'll be taking you apart bit by bit and selling you to the highest
bidder. Capite?"

"Got it," said Pete.

"I see," said Jo. Although he didn't.

"And so to bed," said Godzilla. And with that they were gone.

"I think you've got some explaining to do," said Jo.

****

It took them nearly all night to get out of the ropes. At one point in
the struggle Jo's new head got knocked off and kicked under the bed. He
wasn't best pleased. When they were finally free he refused to speak to
Pete and took himself off to the spare room.

Pete went and sat back in front of the fridge. He opened the icebox
and took out an ice cube which he then placed under his balls. This was
one of his bad habits Jo was always castigating him about. Ice-cube
under balls was apparently bad. Right then Pete didn't care. He wasn't
having a good evening. He had been tied up, Jo and him had fought, he
had lost the mini-people.

The old man had said that Pete would be able to make some money from
the mini-people. Pete was worried about the money but it was more than
that. He had bought them because he had seen how afraid they were of
the old man. They had cheered when he had passed over the money. They
were proud of his actions. These days Jo was never proud of him. He
never felt good enough. He wanted to feel good. Now he had lost even
the small hope of that.

Pete fell asleep in the chair. When he woke up the ice-cube had melted
and he was sitting in a puddle. It was 10 o'clock. Jo would have gone.
And he hadn't even said goodbye.

Pete leant forward, took a can of Stella out of the fridge, and then
stood up. He stumbled into the bathroom to wipe his bum. It was as he
was doing so that he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

Perhaps he should sell his arse after all. He would pay off his debts.
He would find a new way to make Jo proud of him, make him proud of
himself. A way that didn't involved mini-people.

Pete walked back into the living-room. It had been destroyed by
Godzilla and Godzooki but the phone was where it always was, untouched.
Pete had just picked up the receiver and had just dialled the first
three digits of Bums-R-Us, Reclamations Dept when he noticed something.
It was something that made him put down the receiver.

It was one of the mini-people.

He was lying between the Egyptian stencil gun and the skirting
board.

He was breathing shallowly.

to be continued&;#8230;