Strippers vs Werewolves : How Far Did You Get?

Mr. Apollyon brought  a massive box of videos into The Abandoned Video Shop this week.

"What are those?"Old Reg asked him.

"Strippers vs Werewolves," he replied.

"That sounds bleedin' good," Old Reg said excitedly. He likes werewolves and loves strippers so he was obviously enthusiastic.

"How did you get so many?" I asked Mr. Apollyon.

"Someone got me to invest in the film," he replied a scowl crossing his face.

"Did you make much money?" Old Reg asked.

"No."

"Bet you're not talking to that bloke anymore," Old Reg replied.

"No one is," Mr Apollyon said flatly

A shiver ran down my spine.

"Well enjoy," Mr. Apollyon said. "Or try to."

With that he left.

"Well stick it on," Old Reg said happiest I'd seen him for a while.

It didn't last long. Five minutes in and we both were very glad we wasn't the person who got Mr. Apollyon to invest.

"How many bleedin' people from Eastenders are in this crap?" Old Reg said all enthusiasm evaporated.

We turned it off after ten minutes shaking our head and looking at the big box of videos.

"I don't think anyone could've watched that to the end," I said.

"I still like strippers though," Old Reg said.

"I'm glad," I said. "Now let's go burn the rest of them in the backyard."

"Good bleedin' idea, at least they will keep the rats warm."

The Owner. 

Terrible Tales of the Under Basement 3

The door of the under basement was a jar and an eerie light was pulsing from it.

"I don't remember that door bein' open," Old Reg said.

"What from thirty years ago?" I replied as if he was the idiot he is.

"I've got a bad bleedin' feelin' about this," Old Reg said as we edged down the stairs.

The twins had obviously had a party in our absence and the under basement had been raided. Now we had to see what the damage was.

I gently pushed open the busted door and was bathed in a red light, it seemed to be coming from the row after row of neatly shelved video nasties.

"Bleedin' hell," Old Reg muttered beside me. "Look." 

Half a dozen teenagers were hanging from the wall, they were streaked with blood and emitting low, guttural moans. It looked like something out of a video nasty, which is quite apt I suppose. In the middle of the dirty floor the twins were trussed up like Christmas turkeys. Their eyes widened as they saw us. I suppressed the urge to say Serves you right.

Old Reg nudged me and I looked in the corner, there was Desmond, glowering and skeletal his red hair now wispy falling in a  matted comb over across his face.

"They tried to take the nasties," he said more to Reg than me. "They're all in order like you told me Reg."

I looked at Reg, I had no idea he'd told Desmond to do that all those years ago.

"Well done boy," Reg said weakly.

I gazed around at all the rat bones and carcases all over the place, that is obviously what Desmond had been living on. I always wondered why The Abandoned Video Shop didn't have a rat problem; now I knew.  

"They're bad, they'll pay." Desmond said motioning toward the strung up teenagers.

"I think they've paid enough," Old Reg said.

"No!" Desmond screamed, his voice banging off the walls and making his captives moan even more.

Desmond moved toward us slowly like he was enjoying seeing our terror. Old Reg let out a fear fart that added a new dimension to the smell of the under basement. Desmond edged closer and we couldn't move. His face was old and contorted, but I could still, just about, see the teenager in it.

"That'll do Desmond," a voice from behind me said.

I looked around to see Mr. Apollyon's smiling face.

"I have some dinner for you," he held up a bag of squirming, squeaking rats.

Desmond snatched the bag and retreated to the corner.

I looked at Mr. Apollyon in shock.

"Nice holiday?" he enquired.

"Very nice," Old Reg said.

"Good," he smiled. "Now let me deal with this little situation."

You didn't argue with Mr. Apollyon, unless you wanted a little situation of your own.

About half an hour later all the teenagers came up from the under basement, with Mr. Apollyon laughing and singing as if nothing had happened. Mr. Apollyon pushed the twins Leslie and Lesley toward me.

"I think you should deal with these two," he said. " A rap across the knuckles."

"And Desmond?" I asked.

"Back to work organising the nasties."

With that Mr. Apollyon left with the laughing teenagers.

"On the bright side," Old Reg said. "At least Desmond didn't ask for bleedin' back pay."

 

The Owner

 

Terrible Tales of the Under Basement Part 2

"I don't know why you keep them bleedin' twins," Old Reg banged on as we nervously descended the dark, clammy staircase to the under basement.

"Well," I mumbled not really knowing what to say next.

"I'll tell you who I liked," Old Reg said nearly losing his footing on the damp step. "Young Desmond, now that was a hard workin' Saturday boy, remember him?"

"Yes I said shining my torch toward the gloom.

"I'll never know why you got bleedin' sacked him."

"I didn't," I said recalling the spotty face and goofy grin of Desmond. "I thought you did."

"Me?" Old Reg replied stopping dead. " I liked him the silly lookin' sod."

"So if you didn't sack him and I didn't," I said my voice trailing off into the darkness.

"Then what bleedin' well happened to him?"

"When did you last see him?" I asked Old Reg, who let out a large fart that echoed and slid off the dank walls.

"Well that's funny 'cause it was when we were takin' all the video nasties down to the under basement. Then he came up with you."

"No he never," I said a chill edging down my back. "I thought he came up with you."

"No," Old Reg said. "That bleedin' means-"

"We locked Desmond in the under basement with the nasties."

"Nearly thirty bleedin' years ago."

"Then Desmond is the evil of the under basement," I said as we both gazed into the gloom with renewed terror.

TO BE CONTINUED.....

The Owner

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