Tales of the Under Basement Part One

 

When me and Old Reg got back to the Abandoned Video Shop from our holi-holiday in Eastbourne we both knew something wasn't quite right.

"I know a legal bleedin' high when I smell one," Old Reg said sniffing the air like a blood hound.

"They've had a bleedin' party here."

The they, he was referring to, was our Saturday help twins Lesley and Leslie; and I had to agree they had had a bleedin' party. Even though Lesley and Leslie had tried to hide it, the tell tale signs were all about. Me and Old Reg seldom indulge in Jager Bombs and laughing gas, so when we found lots of empty canisters behind the Charlie Sheen section my worst fears were confirmed.

"I said you should've  given them the bleedin' elbow ages ago," Old Reg said in his best I told you so voice.

Suddenly it hit me.

"You don't think they..." my voice trailed off as my guts hit spin cycle.

"Found the Nasties?" Old Reg said looking concerned, which is always a concern.

Video Nasties were a very big thing when we first opened our doors, real money spinners, and we had one of the greatest collections anywhere. All the gory, gruesome titles you could imagine. But when they were banned ( and all of ours were ) me and Old Reg couldn't stand to part with them so we took all the videos and put them in our under basement, that's the dark basement below our basement. And we left them, almost forgetting they existed. Until we started hearing noises from the under basement. Strange bangs, crashes and anguished cries.

"The nasties have melded together into pure evil," Old Reg deduced.

We informed Mr. Apollyon and he just smiled broadly and told us not to go near the under basement.

"If they've got in there," Old Reg said. "They could've let the bleedin' video nasty evil out." 

"We've got to look," I said rubbing my sore head and hoping this was a concussion induced dream like I'd had on holi-holiday.

"This ain't a dream," Old Reg said reading my mind. "And were off to the bleedin' under basement so tool up."

To Be Continued...

The Owner

Holi-Holiday ends...At Last

Eastbourne: Conclusion.

 

"But I thought you said it wasn't Billy Fury's metatarsal," I said still a little confused by Old Reg's sudden appearance.

"I lied, I've known what they've been up to from the start" he replied flatly.

"But," I tried to add something, but nothing came.

"Billy was a mate of mine and a bleedin' nice bloke and I'm not lettin' them do this."

"So how do we stop Billy Fury's resurrection?" I said uttering a sentence I never thought I'd hear myself say.

"We burn the bleedin' Bone Museum down," Old Reg smiled producing what looked like a Molotov cocktail.

"But Mr. Apollyon, Mrs Brannigan, and that other woman are in there," I said.

"They're all evil."

I couldn't argue with that.

We edged down the darkened alley, the shadows seeming to crawl all over us. Just as Old Reg was about to light the oil soaked rag, at the top of the bottle, Mr. Apollyon stood in front of us a look of pure rage etched into his face. At his feet was the weird white faced kid crouched.

"What are you idiots doing?" he said.

"I'm not lettin' you do that to Billy," Old Reg yelled.

"I've put a lot of money on with Paddy Power that Billy Fury will come back and win next year's Britain's Got Talent and you morons will not ruin that," Mr. Apollyon neatly explained.

With lightning speed Mr. Apoyllon leaped forward and snapped Old Reg's neck, his limp body flopping to the floor. The weird white faced kid yelped with joy and started to bite into Old Reg's leg. Then Mr. Apollyon came toward me, his eyes burning, blazing red.

"What about the Abandoned Video Shop,I squeaked. "Who'll run it with us dead?"

I felt his icy hands on my neck, gripping tighter and tighter.

"What is he talkin' about?" I heard a female voice say. "Billy Fury, video shops?"

"It's OK nurse," Old Reg replied. "He's a bleedin' idiot."

The swirling mists cleared.

"Where am I?" I asked.

"In hospital," Old Reg said. " You banged your head remember?"

"I had this dream," I mumbled. "It was all a dream."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah Dorothy," Old Reg said. "We'll be back at the Abandoned Video Shop by tonight."

"Thank God," I muttered then fell back into the swirling mists.

The Owner.

Bad Last Day of the Holi-Holiday

Eastbourne Thursday.

 

"I've had a bleedin' good time this week," Old Reg said to me as I nursed my sore head. "You can't beat these old Eastbourne birds."

"I thought we might do something together, seeing it's our last night here," I said sounding more than a little pathetic.

"Can't, I've got to meet up with-"

"I can guess," I said not wanting to hear any more.

"You're a youngish man," he said looking me up and down. " Get bleedin' out there, get-"

"Chlamydia?" I said sounding peevish, which I have a lot on this holiday.

"That was uncalled for," Old Reg said farting loudly then leaving.

He was right on a couple of scores. It was uncalled for and I was youngish; so I decided to hit Eastbourne on my last night in town.

I wandered into the centre, looking over my shoulder for the weird white faced kid. But thankfully he wasn't about. Preoccupied, I realised I'd wandered near the back alley where the Bone Museum was. I casually glanced down there and, to my shock, I saw Mr. Apollyon standing,  talking to the woman who works at the Museum. I held back and they didn't see me, but their conversation seemed heated and Mr. Apollyon grabbed her by the neck. At that moment Mrs Brannigan came out from the Bone Museum. To my even greater shock she was stark naked.

"Are we gonna do this?" she said holding up the two head shaped bags. " Or are you two going to keep farting about?"

With that they all went into the Museum.

"I think I know what they're bleedin' up to," Old Reg said standing at my shoulder and nearly making me jump out of my skin.

"What?" I asked still shaking.

"They're resurrecting Billy Fury and we've got to stop them," he said stern faced and for once not farting.

 

To Be Continued...

Eastbourne Wednesday.

 

"You're a bleedin' coward," Old Reg said for the thousandth time, referring to the fact I didn't open the head shaped bag yesterday instead gave it to an eager, grinning Mrs Brannigan.

"So what shall we do today?" I asked.

"Well I'm meetin' the old bird I got together with last night," Old Reg said, his leering face making me shiver. "Then we're goin' to see Rush."

"Oh," I said a little crestfallen.

"I knew James Hunt, we had some bleedin' laughs over the  years."

"Perhaps you're in it," I said a little too peevishly. "Played by George Clooney."

With that Old Reg farted loudly leaving the room smelling like an abattoir in a power cut.

I decided to look in the charity shops, of which there are plenty in Eastbourne. I like to see what videos people get rid of. Who knows, as unlikely as it may seem, there might be one we haven't got in the Abandoned Video Shop. As I wandered the sparsely populated High Street, I caught sight of  something in the shadows; it was the weird white faced kid, he was skulking a little behind me. When I stopped, so did he. It felt like that bit in Jurassic Park when Bob Peck says " We're being hunted." I felt icy sweat rolling down my back as I went from charity shop to charity shop. And he was always just in the corner of my eye; I could almost feel his nasty breath and snake eyes creeping over my skin. A mad panic engulfed me and I ran right into a hording advertising Rush. Next thing I knew I woke up in hospital with Old Reg standing over me saying: "Well you sodded up my bleedin' day." I wasn't really enjoying this holiday.

To Be Continued...

The Owner