Chapter 250: Winner Winner, Chicken Dinner

Chapter 250: Winner Winner, Chicken Dinner

Mayor Nelbum nodded at some of the people gathered behind us and they rushed off. A little of the tension surrounding our pow wow lessened and there was a sense that no one was going to have to die. Not until later.

Then the tension went back up as we waited for the food to arrive and didnt have anything to say to each other. Its all very well being in a standoff with weapons drawn, you can make use of all your facial muscles to keep the conversation going without having to say anything. But anyone whos been to a barbecue where you dont know many people, exchanging raised eyebrows while you wait for the sausages to brown, knows what true tension is.

So, said Maurice, making the valiant attempt to cross the uncrossable divide, can we let the girls down now?

They must remain where they are, said Mayor Nelbum, happiest when he could make portentous proclamations and avoid small talk.

But they must be hungry, Maurice continued, emboldened by love and also the dark looks Claire was sending his way.

We will feed them. The One True God accepts only the healthiest sacrifices. You need not concern yourself with their well-being. They will be hale and hearty right up until the end.

I guess that was sort of a positive.

Maurice and Dudley looked at each other, no doubt considering a doomed attempt at rescuing the girls. It would have been quite a job to get them down without being stabbed to death by the local constabulary.

The poles the girls were tied to were a good ten feet tall with the bonfire built up around their base reaching around halfway up. How theyd managed to get the girls up there without the whole thing collapsing was a mystery. One of those baffling architectural feats people from ancient times were always pulling off.

They moved giant rocks from this part of the country, all the way to this part hundreds of miles away, and we have absolutely no idea how they did it. We also have no idea why the fuck they bothered. It achieved nothing.

Ancient peoples, always too much time on their hands.

The food arrived about twenty minutes later. Tables were brought out first and set up with everyone pitching in. It was like a street party with less bunting and more human sacrifices.

Benches were lined up alongside the table and trays of food were set out. Vegetables, meat and fruit. All boiled. Even the fruit.

We had a table to ourselves in the middle of everything, boxed in on all sides. The Mayor indicated one of his people to hand me a pot of boiled chicken (I want to say) that looked white and uninteresting.

You may serve your masters, he said to me.

At first I thought he just assumed I was the servant of the group because, well, it was me. I was hardly going to be the one giving the orders. He probably thought I did most of the talking because my masters were above that sort of thing. Let the peasants talk among themselves.

When I took a moment to look at my two masters, though, it was clear no one would assume they were in charge, either. It was the clothing. They had the colourful, well-made garb theyd got from Laney, and I was in my usual comfortable but grimy duds. It was sort of nice to know there was an actual reason I was being looked down on. Progress.

Actually, said Dudley, always eager to step back, he isnt

Master, please, I interrupted. Lets accept their hospitality which theyve clearly spent minutes preparing. If they wanted to think someone else was the chief assassination target, who was I to argue?

I put the pot on the table and we sat down. Everyone else had taken their seats with the Mayor at the head of the longest table. They were tucking in with the least eager faces Ive ever seen at a banquet.

I used my spoon, attached to me for all time by a chain, to taste a little of the sauce the chicken was in. The sauce was thin and watery, mainly because it was water. I picked out some meat on a drumstick (these are all guesses; could have been a horn for all I know) and took a bite. Bland as fuck. And Im English, so I know a thing or two about bland food.

Do you have any salt? I asked.

There was a gasp. Which either meant their chef was a Gordon Ramsay type who was easily offended if you accused him of seasoning the meat poorly, or these people took high blood pressure very seriously.

Salt is the evil that consumes the human soul, said the mayor.

He seemed to be overstating it a bit, but I guess thats one way to get people to cut back on their sodium intake.

Maurice and Dudley tried the chicken, chewing slowly, because you had no choice.

Its very well boiled, said Maurice.

Thank you, said the mayor. He nodded at the woman sitting beside him who beamed with pride. A smattering of applause ran up and down the tables.

It was like eating rubber. I was hungry but my appetite quickly deserted me.

Ive got a good idea, I said. Why dont we turn this into a cookout?

Both Maurice and Dudley gave me a look that suggested this was not a good idea. I ignored them and went over to the girls propped on top of their soon to be funeral pyres.

I cooked some more chicken over an open flame and I could see the villager starting to look at the chargrilled meat like something they might like to try stuffing in their mouths. A little more time and Id have them dancing around a golden calf, denouncing their One True God as a big fat killjoy.

I didnt get the chance. There was the sound of a shrill trumpet, possibly a bugle. A flash of light lit up the green and hung in the air over us and there was a group of women standing in front of the girls.

They were very attractive women, dressed in white togas that only just reached their thighs. They had big hair, brushed out into waves like various incarnations of Charlies Angels and they wore a tonne of makeup. They did look quite sexy, like a dance troop from the 70s about to do a routine to the latest Boney M hit single, but they also had that terrifying aura about them that all heavily-tarted up women carry around.

I have put everything on display! Dont look! Why arent you looking? My eyes are up here, pervert! Desire me! Dont touch me!

Scary stuff. Better to leave the whole confusing mess to people who understand it. I could feel Maurice and Dudley backing away just as I was.

Sacrilege, shouted the woman in the middle of the seven of them. She carried a long staff with a very questionable carving at the top. I assumed she was the head priestess. Flesh has been burnt here. Who is responsible?

The village as one pointed at me. I showed these people how to cook chicken. Bros before hoes meant nothing here. Nothing.

The priestess nodded and her Farrah Fawcett hair didnt move at all. Ive seen helmets with more give.

We are the virgins of the One True God. No man shall touch us, all shall bow to the One True God.

I leaned towards Maurice. I think its okay. I think theyre lesbians.

You cant say that, said Maurice, his eyes darting around guiltily.

Im not saying its a bad thing, but virgins, no man touching, giant dildo on a stick

Maurice looked at the priestesss staff, mouth agape. Thats not a dildo. Its too big.

Anythings a dildo if youre brave enough, I said, imparting true wisdom under pressure.

You fear us, she said. You fear the vulva!

I do if you call it that, I said. Sounds like something I should watch out for when Im crossing the road.

Vulva, vulva, muttered Dudley, like he was trying to remember an old friends nickname at school. Female urethra?

No, said Maurice, like he was an expert on these matters. Women have a urethra, too. The vulvas the bit at the top.

I dont think so, I said. Youre thinking of the uvula, you know, that thing that hangs at the back of your throat like a punching bag. Hey, by the way, anyone know what you call the indent in your upper lip just below your nose?

The philtrum, said Claire. Now shut up. She tilted her head at the priestess who didnt look happy.

Sorry, you were saying something about Volvos? Excellent safety record, not the greatest mileage.

You will be tamed and bow down to the One True God. She ripped off her toga and threw it aside. Her followers did the same.

Maurice and Dudley immediately turned around, refusing to look. I was transfixed.

Holy shit, dont they have hedge trimmers where you come from? I suddenly knew where Boney M had been hiding for the last thirty years.

There was some confusion at this point.

Bow down! insisted the priestess.

I looked around. The villagers were all on their knees. There was some pretty impressive bush on display, but hardly worthy of worship.

Can you put your knickers back on, love? I asked. Theres kids present. And theyve just eaten.

The naked women couldnt understand why I wasnt all weak and powerless under the gaze of their giant muffs, and I couldnt understand why they thought I would be. Id seen 70s porn. This was no worse than that.

There was a roar that shattered the still night air.

Monster! someone screamed helpfully. And then they rioted.