m Chapter 13 Mini People

Chapter 13

"I feel stupid," whispered Pete.

"You look fine," whispered Sean.

"I think we've overdone it with the tinsel," whispered Pete.

"Stop grouching and follow those reptiles," whispered Sean. "They're
getting away."

Pete picked up the bucket and set off after Godzilla and Godzooki. It
was difficult to walk. The blue tinsel wig Sean had suggested making
was over three feet high. Pete had to stoop to avoid it catching on the
halogen lights in the ceiling.

Fifteen feet down the corridor Godzilla and Godzooki stopped. Godzooki
went into a door on the left clutching the toilet roll.

"What do I do?" whispered Pete.

"Make like a janitor," whispered Sean.

"Right," whispered Pete.

Pete took the mop out of the bucket and gestured at something halfway
up the wall. Then he put the mop down and lit up two cigarettes. He put
his hands in his pockets and smoked both cigarettes together, one in
each corner of his lips. He breathed in through his mouth and out
through his nose.

"What do you think you're doing?" whispered Sean.

"Mr Chelowski," whispered Pete, "janitor at our school, always used to
smoke two cigarettes at once."

"I don't believe it," whispered Sean and then Godzilla came out of the
toilet. Godzilla glanced towards Pete and nodded towards the toilet
door.

"Wouldn't go in there for a while mate. This reptilian body plays
havoc with your guts."

"Right e o," said Pete and he made a quick movement with his
mop.

"Where did you get that hair by the way?"

"It's from the Simpson's range," said Pete. "I'm supposed to be
Marge."

"Whatever turns you on. Funny thing for a bloke though."

"I couldn't afford a woman's body. Out of my range. Mopping doesn't
pay a lot."

"You should get two mops then, one for each hand."

"Can we get a move on?" said Godzooki.

Godzilla nodded towards Pete and then they were off.

"Follow them," whispered Sean.

Pete picked up the bucket. He was getting used to following people.
Every time Godzilla or Godzooki paused Pete did something with his mop.
He decided that it was an under-rated thing, the mop. They didn't seem
to suspect a thing.

Eventually Godzilla and Godzooki stopped at a door. Godzilla took out
a key from a pouch that was hanging around his neck and opened the
door. Both him and Godzooki went inside. The door closed.

"I think we can safely say we've found the mini people," said
Sean.

"What makes you so sure?" said Pete.

"Look."

Pete looked. Outside the door all in a row were five pairs of very
tiny shoes.

"They must have a cleaning service," said Sean.

"Or the mini people have become invisible," said Pete, "and are all
standing right there in a line."

"I'm going to ignore that," said Sean. "Right. Now for the next part
of the plan. We go back to that janitor's closet. We wait there until
this evening and then we return here later and rescue the mini
people."

"Ok," said Pete although he didn't think it would be so straight
forward. Straight forward things rarely are.

****

"Oy janitor! Oy janitor!"

Pete stopped. He was halfway back to the janitor's closet.
Unfortunately it was the first half. He didn't know whether to run or
not. He decided to rely on the mop. It had got him this far. He turned
around.

Coming towards him was barrel-chested man with thin legs. In the place
where his flies should have been was a nametag. It said 'Jarvis
Jarvis'.

The barrel-chested man clapped his hands. "Senor, would you bring that
bucket pronto pronto por favor?"

"Excuse me?" said Pete. He was nodding his head and edging backwards.
He hoped this would give the illusion of interest and the approximation
of escape.

"Not thataway. Thisaway." Jarvis Jarvis rotated his arms and pointed
along a fork in the corridor. "We've had ze spillageipoo."

"I don't get you."

"Vat you vill get," said Jarvis Jarvis, "is a bootiful up ze backside.
Now janitor person vum."

"Vum?"

"Yes, vum. Avec le bouquet."

"I think he wants you to follow him," whispered Sean.

"Then why doesn't he say?"

"Just go."

So Pete followed. He hoped that Sean was remembering the way. They
needed to find those mini people later.

****

Jarvis Jarvis had this way of walking. His whole body moved from side
to side while his legs moved up and down. Pete had the impression of
being on a very narrow boat. He was glad when eventually they came to a
stop.

"We is here," said Jarvis Jarvis. "You have ze clearance, don't
you?"

"Me and Miss Tempest are like that?" said Pete. He held up his crossed
middle and forefinger.

"Zat is good because this is all very shhh shhh."

"You mean hush hush?" said Pete.

"No," said Jarvis Jarvis, "I mean shit shit, lots of it."

And then he opened the door.

"Shit," said Pete.

"Excremente," said Jarvis, "this is what I am telling you."

Pete found himself in a huge room like a cowshed. It was like a
cowshed because it was full of cows. For a minute Pete thought he had
shrunk. Then he realised it wasn't him. He realised it was the cows.
They were all twenty-five feet high. Tattooed men swirling lassoes were
corralling them from stall to stall.

"Zere is ze problem," said Jarvis pointing to a tower of dung about
three feet high. "They are coming to inspect us fifteen minutes and we
need that shit moving."

"I might need a bigger bucket," said Pete.

"Out of ze question. Ve have no time." Jarvis Jarvis clapped his
hands. "You will make only more trips. That is the Dial-A-Spud way,
industry equals fraternity equals high profit margins. Now do
it!"

"This is worse than I thought," said Sean, as Pete made his way over
to the droppings.

"I know," said Pete, "I never thought this morning I'd be shovelling
shit."

"Not that, you idiot," said Sean. "These huge cows. It means that
Dial-A-Spud have already got hold of our growth technology."

"But the scientists were only brought here yesterday."

"It's very fast acting."

"I'll say," said Pete.

"Oy janitor," called Jarvis Jarvis from where he was filling a large
vat of milk, "get a bleedin move on and don't be mumbling mumbling like
a freak in a freakin' freak show."

"Just do as he says," said Sean.

"Yes boss!" shouted over Pete and he scooped a pile of the shit into
his bucket. He carried it over to a large bin, emptied it, and then
came back. He did this five times until all the shit was gone.

Jarvis Jarvis came back over, walking in the same way as before. It
was beginning to make Pete feel seasick.

"Good job," said Jarvis Jarvis, looking at the now empty patch of
floor.

"Who you talking to," said Pete, "me or the cow?"

"Zis cow, he no speak," said Jarvis Jarvis. "Now I need you to do me
zis little favour."

"Does it involve shit?" said Pete.

"He he," said Jarvis Jarvis and he started to shake. Like many
barrel-chested men his body was subject to sudden fluctuations of
movement. "No, no shit. I want you to take a potato down to the head
depot for me."

"Hmmm," said Pete.

"It's no a question," said Jarvis Jarvis and he turned and shorted
over his shoulder. "Bloody bullshitty janitors." Then he turned back to
Pete. "The potato is over zere. By ze door. The head depot is on ze
fourth floor. They're expecting you."

****

"This potato is bloody heavy," said Pete.

"It's in a wheelbarrow," said Sean, "what more do you want?"

"I want to go home," said Pete. "I want everything to be back to
normal again. I don't want to be wheeling fifty kilogramme potatoes
about."

"Things aren't going to be normal. Can't you see, Dial-A-Spud are
putting an end to normality. Now, stop whinging, I'm trying to
think."

"It's alright you trying to think," said Pete, "you're not the one
shifting shit. You're not the one lugging massive potatoes
about."

"Watch out," said Sean, "you nearly missed the lift. The fourth floor
that guy said. The head depot. That sounds interesting."

"Interesting," said Pete. Then he started to sing again. "Hong Kong
Phooey, never was such a super guy. Hong Kong Phooey?"

Pete stepped into the lift backwards, manoeuvring the wheelbarrow.
There was only just room for the three of them, him, Sean and the
potato.

"Going down," said Pete and he pressed the button on the panel. The
door closed. "You know," he said, "I always wanted to work in a lift. A
lift in a posh hotel I mean. Not a service lift. There always seemed
something romantic about it. The uniform. The people you meet. 'Hello
madam. You going down? Up? Penthouse suite. Very nice.' And then of
course there's the organising stuff. Getting prostitutes and
prosthetics for the men. Irons and ouija boards for the women. The
person who works in the lift sees everything. That's what I think
anyway."

"When it comes down to it," said Sean. "I'd rather speak to a
potato."

"That's not a nice thing to say," said Pete. "Everybody has a dream,
you know?"

"My dream is to get a zip for your mouth."

"Who's helping who here?"

But Sean didn't answer. Right then, the lift doors opened. Pete
gulped.

"Cripes," he said.