A searing sharp sudden pain drove itself into his forehead.
Father McKenzie sat bolt upright and winced like he had never winced before, instead of scrunching his facial features up he opened his eyes wide and stuck his tongue out while inhaling sharply. He was pretty sure that he should go back to his normal mode of wincing next time.
He'd eaten his ice-cold ice-cream much too quickly and now had a brain freeze. He still had not gotten ice-cream satisfaction, he had rushed the whole chocolate covered snack and it had caused him to swallow much of it whole. He had actually felt it slide down into his belly which made him feel most uncomfortable. When McKenzie ate something he liked to imagine that it just disappeared from existence, the thought of all the food he ate being mushed and dissolved inside of him seemed very offputting. He'd never fully come to terms with having a stomach. Some good advice to those who crossed him was to never ever even mention intestines.
As he slowly recovered and his brain unfroze the train he was riding in came to a slow stop. The two events almost seemed synchronised, as did the tooting of the train's horn and McKenzies shock discovery. Outside the station, (which happened to be in the town of Station, making it Station station) was an ice-cream truck. The priest greedily decided that he'd hide out in the town of Station for a while and get an ice-cream on his way out of the station from the truck that was stationed there.
He grabbed his knapsack and dragged it down the aisle bruising various passengers on his way to the exit. The train's conductor stopped him at the door.
"Sorry, you got a ticket to Exmouth lad, can't let you off yet"
"That's just silly", Father McKenzie answered incredulously.
For one of the few times in history, a man in charge actually saw sense in what a customer said and agreed. "Sorry 'bout that, I'm going to talk to the manager on Monday and see if we can't make things more flexible". McKenzie suddenly realised that the world was falling apart as he walked down the stairs.
Then he stopped realising this as splinters flew every which way around him. He started to realise some more unpredictable movements were on their way as a glass train window shattered above him. Then he really realised that he better stop realising things otherwise his realising days would be over. He was in the open, with no place to hide.
The conductor screamed "all aboard!!!!" even as the train started racing out of the station giving no-one a chance to even imagine boarding it. He felt a bullet wizz by his ear. No other place to go but into his tank, luckily for him it was bulletproof, if only Martha was still alive, after all the arguments over whether making the tank bulletproof would ever be useful he had been right! It was almost worth being shot at to win that damned argument.
McKenzie took the tank out of his bag, climbed the side, and then he was in. Then he wasn't in anymore. But he wasn't out either.
Nyartholep had always counted on Gus. He considered Gus his personal servent and slave. He punished him frequently, often only because Nyar was in a bad mood. Gus was on call 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. Never had a holiday. Never even had a day off. Nyar made Gus cater to his every whim and desire. Gus bathed him, Gus read to him, and if Nyar was feeling particularly tired Gus chewed his food for him.
Now Gus was gone. It just didn't make sense.
Nyartholep wanted a cup of tea. He was pretty sure he had all the things he needed. Cup, teabag, spoon, milk, kettle.
Now what first, what first...
He eyed the meaning of life in a shoebox sitting on the counter. Like a winning lottery ticket he didn't want to lose sight of it for too long. This conquering the rule caper was more stressful then he bargained for.
Alright, he supposed that the obvious thing to do was heat up the tea-bag. He turned on the gas flame and dangled the tea-bag over it. The tea-bag burst into flames, things were already not going to plan. As the flames reached up for his hand he flung the bag away which landed on the meaning of life in a shoebox, which caught fire.
Nyartholep started running around the kitchen. "ooooh! ooooh!", he made panicked noised and flung his arms around. He had no idea what to do in such a situation. A cup of tea would calm him down, but he had neither the time or the tea making expertise to accomplish this.
In the end the problem sorted itself out, The meaning of life in a shoebox simply burnt down to ashes. A relief of sorts for Nyartholep, whose house and contents were not insured.
No time for tea now. Nyartholep had some homework to do. He sat down at his typewriter and started to type what he pretty much gathered what the meaning of life was. He was no poet or scholar, in fact he had no writing skills, he wasn't even very bright. But he was fiendishly evil, not that this helps much in writing the best thing that can ever be written.
He thought back to grade 4 English class...."never start a sentance with And"....That would have to do, he had little time, and a pair of shoes to buy.
Bowie could feel her ice cold grip unclasping his jaws. He had to think fast, and think smart. He decided that he would roll down his window therefore creating a flow of air from the pressurised inside to the outside which would suck Iman out of the plane and save the day.
Just as he reached ever so slowly for the window lever they were interupted by a neatly dressed square jawed man who was well built.
"Hands of that switch!" he said and glared at David.
"It's a lever actually" some people are just so dense said/thought David at the same time.
"You leave Iman alone!" the man upped his glaring a degree to show he wasn't bluffing, he had more glare up his sleeve.
"I wasn't going to touch her, just felt like some fresh air" he just may be dense enough to buy it said/thought the singer/songwriter.
"Mr Bowie, I've come to take my destiny in my own hands and take what is rightfully mine, let her go" said the man which was strange as Iman was sitting on top of Bowie with her hands around his neck.
Iman turned to the man, "Take these and be mine forever", she handed Reale the pills in her hand and smiled a seductive smile. Reale had an inner conflict of World War proportions before recognizing one of the drugs.
"BEARDOALBUMNONFISHATUS!!, Iman, I'm sorry my love, but you are under arrest!!" This was Reales biggest bust ever, the first seizure of this terrible narcotic. Who knows, maybe a romance would blossom between them as he led her to the straight and narrow, they would have children together, live in a house in the country with ponies and wildflowers, sit on the porch drinking ice-cold champagne as the sun set, look at the stars at night in between making love and talking about endless dreams...
Bowie opened the window and Iman proceeded to fly out into the silky ink-black darkness...
"SON OF A BITCH!!", was the understated cry of a man who has just realised how slippery a thing your future can be.
"Love the earth and sun and the animals, despise riches, give alms to everyone that asks, stand up for the stupid and crazy, devote your income and labor to others, hate tyrants, argue not concerning God..."