Chapter 283: No Refunds

Chapter 283: No Refunds

If you have a toaster that goes up to 6, you know youre never going to use it above 4. The dial might accidentally get turned up high, but that means the toast is going straight in the bin. If youre desperate (i.e. a student) you might scrape off the top layer of carcinogenic charcoal, but its a grim job most would rather avoid.

The thing is, those high settings were put there for a reason. Toaster engineers arent dummies. They have degrees in science (and baking, presumably). They knew exactly what theyre doing. They know 5 produces the subtle aroma of melted plastic, and that 6 is guaranteed to set off alarms at the Office for Chemical and Biological Weapons. So why did they put them there?

Sure, there are some toasters made to handle bagels or muffins straight out of the freezer. But the useless settings on toasters have always been there. Even before people knew frozen waffles were a thing.

But people dont care. They dont demand answers as long as they get their breakfast on time (two and a half and allowed to cool before being buttered, if you were wondering). And maybe there isnt an answer, not a logical one. Some people cant be analysed, explained, understood or reasoned with. Some people just want to watch the toast burn.

Joshaya wanted something. To bring back the old gods, perhaps. It could be true, it could be a smokescreen for something else.

The girls had agreed to help him. Willingly, maybe.

No one had considered it worth their time to brief me on the matter. I was to wait. Keep your eyes on the lower settings and assume the rest is for marketing purposes. The speedometer goes up to 200 km/h, so what if the car only does 110? It looks cool.

Why care about something that doesnt affect you? Or something they tell you doesnt affect you.

Its undeniably better to leave it to people who know what theyre doing. And if I ever meet one of those people, I will.

How much money do we have? I asked Maurice.

He had a pile of coins, some gems and a random assortment of jewellery. The druids dressed modestly, but they had deep pockets. Maurice examined it all very closely and said, I have no idea.

Most of the coins we werent familiar with. It looked like a lot.

I turned to the main druid. Is this enough to get us through the front door?

He shrugged. Weve never been allowed inside.Updated from novelbIn.(c)om

Does that mean none of you can come with us? I had hoped to take a few druids with us for defensive purposes. Without the girls there were fewer people to hide behind.

Theres no way theyll let us inside the temple, said the druid. His cohorts shook their heads to back him up. Their beards swayed from side to side in mesmerising unison.

I could see the problem. The druids had rather a distinct look. Long beards, bald heads. It was a strong fashion statement.

What if you disguised yourselves? A big hat and dark glasses probably wouldnt cut it. Maybe shave your beards?

There was a gasp from the assembled druids. No, no, we cant do that. There was something very odd in the way they had reacted.

Why not? I asked Theyll grow back?

There was a swish of branches behind me. The beards hide what they really are, said the tree.

Wilbur, please, were trying to have a meeting.

My name is Xesar, not Wilbur.

I think you remember the vote. It was unanimous. Even you put your hands up. Youve still got them up, now.

To be fair, he was a tree. Hands up was a way of life.

Oh, said Maurice standing close to the druid and sneaking a look behind the waterfall of hair on his chin. He pointed. Tentacles.

The druids quickly brushed the beard in long flowing strokes. They arent tentacles.

No, of course not, I said. Perhaps shaving wouldnt make them any less conspicuous. Perhaps it would start a general panic and a remake of the Creature from the Black Lagoon. Okay, well come with us and just hang about in the square. We might need a diversion.

Clearly had me down as a gullible fool, which may well have been true.

When do they empty the barrels? I asked him.

Lunchtime collection should be in about an hour.

We had an hour to compose a note so compelling, the Pope would be driven to having us rushed into his presence.

Maurice and Dudley sat staring at Maurices notebook waiting for inspiration to strike.

The blank page, said Dudely, every writers bitterest foe.

We could start, Dear Pope, suggested Maurice.

A bit informal, said Dudley. Perhaps, Your Most Holy Eminence? Or should that be Your Most Eminent Holiness?

Start it Yo, Fuckface! for all I care, I said. Just make it attention-grabbing.

They continued to debate the best opening line. They felt the first hook was worth getting right, like they were writing Moby Dick. They were half right.

While James Baldwin and Alfred Lord Tennyson worked on their first draft, I decided to wing it.

Emergency!

The old god Joshaya has returned to Gorgoth with an army of immortals.

If you wish to learn more, contact me at this address:

I put down the name of the inn we were staying at and signed it Nelson Mandela. I felt it was a name that would engender trust. I popped the card in the barrel. Probably as effective as putting it in the bin.

What if we made it a limerick? suggested Dudley. With a slightly ribald flavour, eh?

Yes, okay, said Maurice getting excited at the prospect of becoming this worlds first limerick superstar (or any worlds). What rhymes with Gorgoth?

While we waited, I bought some tourist stuff to help us blend in. There were loads of shops selling Shriner-based merch. They had some excellent branding and the tee-shirt quality really was very good.

A man with a cart came around and took away the barrels from each of the stores in the square like a bin man. We followed him all the way around until he returned to the temple and tipped the card into a chute under the skulls chin.

Dudley still couldnt see beyond the door the girls had gone through, but he was able to see where the cards went. There were dozens of Shriners waiting to sort the cards by colour. There were only a couple of purple ones and they were rushed off. He repeated what he was seeing with his eyes closed here, and open in there.

How long would it take for them to read and respond? There was probably a team of support staff who went through each card and decided what needed to be answered first. The Pope probably never saw any of them.

It was still a pretty decent plan. Even if they werent interested in my story of gods and monsters, theyd still be in touch by tomorrow at the latest.

We should probably go back to the inn and wait for them to contact

Ah, said Dudley, suddenly backing away from the temple. He was pointing at the doors. Ah, ah

The doors burst open and a procession of men in armour carrying spears ran out in an endless train. They had helmets on and every inch of their skin covered. They ran through the square as people dived out of the way. I didnt know where they were going, but Id say roughly, if I were to take a wild guess, in the direction of our inn.

Once theyd all gone, the doors began to close.

The gift shops open! I called out. Twenty percent off everything.

People stormed the temple like it was the first day of the sales. No fortress could defend against what was simultaneously the most constructive and destructive force known to manthe free market economy. We joined in and rode the wave.