The Further Further Further Adventures Of Miguel Button

© 2013 David Jasmin-Green

“Would you mind climbing out of the water, Sir?” the WPC said to Miguel Button, who was standing in the shallows at the far side of the canal pulling errant pieces of debris from the mesh of the infeasibly large net stretched from side to side.

“May I ask why, Mr. Policeman?” Miguel said. “I'm just minding my own business in this lovely, hygienic canal. What heinous crime have I committed?”

“I'm not saying that you've committed any crime at this point,” the constable replied, “though it's technically illegal to bathe in the canal or to fish without a licence, which is what I assume you're doing with that bloody great net. Where the hell did you get a net that big?”

“From an online trawler supplier, of course. You're full of questions, aren't you hossifer? Maybe I should hask a few. Why are you so fat and fucking hugly? That's a good one for starters.”

“If you're going to be abusive we're going to have to arrest you, Sir. My colleague and I wish to ask you a few routine questions, that's all. We've had a couple of Creature from the Black Lagoon sightings along this stretch of canal this afternoon, which is what brings us here. Would you mind telling me why you're wearing a wetsuit, a pair of flippers, a face-mask and an aqualung? And what are you doing with that net?”

“I'm not bathing and I'm not fishing, I'm swimming, so you can't nick me. This water's bloody freezing, it is after all the beginning of Hapril and the canal was frozen just a couple of weeks ago, which explains why I'm wearing a wetsuit to keep me warm. The flippers assist me in moving through the water with less heffort, with a face-mask or goggles I can hopen my heyes without getting them full of shitty, disease riddled water, and the haqualung henables me to breathe hunderwater so that I can conduct a more thorough search of this here canal - which is why I hired this hextortionately hexpensive hequipment in the first place. Oh, and the net is to catch my grandmother with, she escaped the day before yesterday and she might prove a danger to the general public once she gets hungry, so I need to recapture her as soon as possible. She isn't a fish, by the way, she's half hoctopus, which is a cephlapod..... Hany more questions, hofficers?”

“Yeah, loads of 'em,” the male officer said. “Look, just get out of the soddin' canal, we're takin' you down the station.”

“Fair enough, Miss,” Miguel replied, swimming to the bank and climbing deftly out.

“What do you mean by insinuating that your grandmother is 'alf octopus?” the male officer said. “If we wanted to be funny we could nick you for wastin' police time, you know – we were 'idin' in a quiet lane eatin' kebab and chips and drinkin' crappy Starbucks coffee in our nice warm squad car when we 'ad the call to search this stretch of canal, and we ain't very pleased about bein' disturbed. Give us your name and address,” he said, taking a notebook from his pocket. “And take that friggin' mask off so that we can see your ugly mug.”

“My name is Miguel Button,” Miguel said, lifting his mask. “And I live at number ninety two Goscote Lodge Crescent, Coalpool, with my dear mother and grandmother. And I wasn't hinsinutaing hanything, hofficer, my grandma really is half hoctopus. If you'll just let me get to my clothes, which are hidden in a bush just over there, I'll show you the old dear's picture.”

“Very well,” the officer replied, and Miguel retrieved his clothes, which were in a couple of Tesco carrier bags. “By the way, why do you put a 'h' in front of damned nearly every word you say that begins with a vowel?”

“I wasn't haware that I did that, Miss,” Miguel said, showing the officer a picture of his mother and grandmother from his wallet, both of whom were hideous octopus human hybrids, though one looked markedly more human than the other. “Grandma is the huge, not particularly attractive one with the blue rinse, she doesn't like me showing people this snap because she hasn't got her false teeth in. Look, if you don't believe me I'll take you to my house, it's not far away. It's sealed with a thick layer of resin and flooded with seawater, which is full of codfish and halibut and bloaters and tasty electric eels for mum and grandma to feast on – I live in the loft. I need to get grandma out of this bloody canal, she can't survive in fresh water for long; if you can call this polluted muck fresh water, that is.”

“I see,” the officer said, eyeing the picture. “Been 'avin' some fun on Photoshop, 'ave we, Sir? Do you think we're as mad as you evidently are?”

“I'm not mad, I'm just slightly batty, and I'm telling the Gospel truth about my family's unusual hoctopus heritage.”

“I've 'ad enough of this daft palaver, you're bloody well nicked.”

“This is discrimination, you fascist bastards!” Miguel replied. “You're picking on me simply because My grandma's half hoctopus, my mother is a quarter hoctopus and I'm an eighth hoctopus. And I'm gay and black.”

“But you're not black,” the police woman said. Miguel pointed to the flurry of bubbles rising from the canal just behind a maggoty, long dead German shepherd that was trapped in the net. “You're not nicking me, you pigs. Grandma has stopped fannying around and come valiantly to my rescue, methinks. Don't kill the nice hofficers, grandma, please - just hold them tightly while I make my hescape! Do you think my name is really Miguel Button, you racist, bacon-flavoured twannocks? And do you seriously believe that I gave you my correct haddress? I've given you next door's haddress instead – you'll never track me down. Mwu-ha-haa-haar!”

The male officer took out his Taser and handcuffs. “Let's 'ave the nut-job, Xena,” he said to his short, plump colleague, but as the officers stepped forwards a pair of purplish tentacles as thick as a man's thigh shot out of the water, wrapped around their throats and dragged them into the ice cold canal. “Run, my fine, handsome boy, run!” the elderly but nevertheless monstrous Hilda Button gurgled in a shrill voice. “Don't worry, Miguel, I won't drown the bastards, I promise, but I hintend to have a little fun with them before I let them go.”

“I'll get you for this, Button!” the male officer yelled as Hilda's many suckered tentacles turned him and his colleague upside down and dipped them in and out of the water.

“Yeah, right,” Miguel muttered, picking up his carrier bags and waddling off clumsily along the tow-path. “Cheerio, you fat, hincompetent piggy-wiggies!”