Part 6
Magic coming out of my arse!

I am standing outside Museum Station and it’s very late. Or very early, depending on what it is you’re waiting for.

Now I’m not so sure what to do. I mean, I remember what happened to my friend once. He comes home and finds a burglar struggling to escape through the window. So he runs after him. The burglar’s running away but he’s unfit. OK, so he’s fat. And slow. My friend easily catches up with him, but a few metres away he starts asking himself, now what? Does he tackle him? Wrestle him to the ground? Beat him to a pulp? Hell, my friend’s never been in a fight before! He wouldn’t know the first thing about bringing a guy down.

And neither do I. I’m a nerd, for Pete’s sake. I say things like ‘for Pete’s sake’. People who say things like that don’t get into fights. Astrid. She’s the feisty one in the family. Oh Astrid!

I know this is where I’m supposed to be. The voice on the phone last night told me the way to find whoever it was who took away my reading ability is to sniff out what he calls the snail trail. Astrid. My wife. She also used to use the term with me. But now that I think about it, she was probably referring to something else … oh Astrid, you’re so hot! Why did you do it?

But the voice on the phone wasn’t coming on to me. The snail trail he’s talking about is the trail of astral dust that follows a spell from the caster to the recipient. To sniff out the snail trail, like to sniff out anything, you need a nose. The more complex the spell, the more sensitive a nose you need.

Your common fart is an example of a most unsophisticated basic form of a discomfort spell. And it is usually easily enough to use your own nose to follow the fart to its ‘caster’.

On the other hand, the spell that I have been inflicted with is much more sophisticated and so to sniff it out, I needed a much more sensitive nose. So in this case, he recommended me the nose of the Albanian yak - the most magically sensitive nose in all creation. Mummified will do. Tied to the end of a silver pendulum. Follow it and it will lead you to the spellcaster.

Earlier in the day I went to visit Francis at his magic shop again to get everything I need. Well, everything I thought I needed. This is becoming a habit. A mummified Albanian yak nose, a silver pendulum and a weapon of sorts. All I could afford was the Dagger of Orobos. Orobos, Francis tells me, is not so much a demon as it is a physical embodiment of anal excretion. This is its dagger. You can fill in the gaps.

Now, the dagger looks kinda flimsy. Then I check the hilt and it says ‘Made in Taiwan’. I think the bastard ripped me off again.

So now the yak nose has led me to Museum Station but my timetable says there’s only one more train running tonight. Yes, I know I still can’t read but I went to a pub to ask someone to read it for me and guess who I run into. Mitch! And he’s still dressed in flannel and although he was off his face, he was still pretty much able to read the time… or so I am assuming.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

‘I need to find someone.’

‘Who?’

‘It doesn’t matter.’

‘It sounds exciting.’

‘No. Not really.’

‘Can I come?’

I told him no. I don’t want anyone else involved with this. And besides, I didn’t want a drunken guy hanging around me when I’m trying to hunt someone down. But the man is hard to get rid of. So I stayed with him for a while and I bought him a few more drinks. And eventually, as it happens, he needed to go to the bathroom, providing me with the perfect escape route!

Thank god for beer!

Now I am walking down the station stairs. The nose is still definitely pointing down here. The voice on the phone, he told me that the yak nose itself leaves a trail that is traceable. So he gives me a simple trail buster spell which fixes that up. This involved stuffing my mouth with Weet Bix and chanting ‘Yamala yamala yama’ eight times while constantly thinking about the yak nose. The whole thing made me want to throw up.

The voice on the phone also gave me a handy recipe for guacamole that used sweet chilli sauce.

I think we got sidetracked there.

Once I’m in the ticket area, the nose is going nuts. No longer pointing in any one direction, it’s spinning wildly and tangling the string.

Stupid piece of crap!

A door opens and I quickly hide the nose under my jacket.

It’s one of those transit officer guard people. He’s tall and looks like Tom Cruise if Tom Cruise had been a junkie and tall. His cheeks are hollow. He’s gaunt to the point where I feel uncomfortable just looking at him. But he still somehow looks like Tom Cruise. Behind him walks out another guard. She’s chubby, blonde and doesn’t look like any particular celebrity I know.

She smiles at me.

I smile back.

“You’re gonna just make the last train,’ she says, and I say ‘thanks.’

Behind her walk out four more guards.

That’s six. What are they, having a party in there?!

I quickly duck down to the platform, which is completely deserted. I guess that shouldn’t really be a surprise considering the time.

Now what?

Again, I’m at a loss. The yak nose is still going nuts under the jacket but what am I to do? Say it’s one of the transit officers. There are six of them. I can’t take them all on!

So I do what I always do when I don’t know what to do. I run and hide. In this case, in the broom closet at the end of the platform.

It’s tiny. Barely fits me. And smells like off yoghurt. Funny that. But once I’m in, it’s strangely comfortable. Funny that too. When I close the door it’s dark but I can still feel the yak nose spinning inside my jacket. I figure I must be at the right place, but now what?

OK, the smell is starting to get to me so I open the door a little. That’s a bit better. Well, maybe just a little bit more. Yes, now it’s better. And I have a slightly better view of what’s going on outside … which happens to be nothing at the moment, but if something were to be going on, I would be able to see it!

In about five minutes, Tom Cruise and the chubby blonde walk down onto the platform just as the final train approaches. They march to my end of the platform, talking.

‘The secret is to use butter,’ says the chubby blonde.

I assume that I’ve missed the better part of this conversation.

They stop about a metre away from the broom closet where I am. The train stops and leaves again with no passengers either coming or going.

This is the last train service for the night

‘Well thank god that’s over,’ says Tom Cruise.

‘Yeah. Felt like the longest night of my friggin’ life.’

And then it begins.

__________

With the last of the trains gone, in time, the lights go out. Tom Cruise and Chubby are still standing just a few metres from me in the dark, chatting about the best way to cook goat meat, so I can’t leave my broom closet.

I’m thinking why they are still here when the lights are out, but then more of the guards come down to the platform. I can’t see too well from here but there looks to be about seven or eight others. And they’re carrying torches. Not the hand-held variety but I mean the old fashioned flame ones. Also, they’re not wearing guard uniforms. They’re wearing robes. Like the ones monks wear.

With the low lighting, I am even less visible to the outside so I open the door a little further. It’s beginning to make sense to me but the scene is still extremely bizarre. These guards are going to do some sort of ritual in Museum station?!

Tom Cruise and Chubby are now putting their robes over their guard uniforms. I feel hot just looking at them layer their clothing like that. It could also just be the closet.

There is quite a bit of chatter now. A few more people in robes come down to the platform. I’m assuming they’re also guards. Two of them carry with them a table and set it down in the middle of the platform. Torches, on their stands, now line the entire length of the platform.

Try to imagine what I’m looking at. It’s not really something you see every day!

I feel around for my Orobos dagger and I hold the hilt tightly in my hand but I’m still not sure what my course of action should be. I mean, one of them is probably the spellcaster I’m looking for. Or it could be all of them!

Then suddenly, I hear a soft rumbling from my end of the tunnel. The guards must have heard it too because now they’re all facing towards that direction. The rumbling grows louder. And louder still. Lights shine out of the tunnel.

It’s a train!

The train screams into the platforms and screeches to a halt. It’s one of those old red rattlers that were decommissioned about ten years ago. There is a buzz of excitement now from the guards. It’s like they can sense something about to happen. My heart is pounding.

The centre door opens and suddenly everyone is silent. I can hear footsteps coming from that carriage and then the guards begin to clap and cheer. A few of them whistle out. Their hands are up in the air and they’re waving them like they just don’t care.

This short man with a big head walks out of the carriage and raises his hands up to quiet the crowd but they just cheer even louder. Oh my god, it’s Artie from work! The He’s naked except for a pair of glasses. I would think this curious if not for the fact that I consider this whole situation rather curious. In that context, a short naked man with glasses fits rather well actually.

I can’t believe it’s Artie! I can’t believe I’m looking at him naked!

Artie still has his arms raised.

‘Thank you. Thank you. I know it’s been a while since we’ve had one of these. But the wait is finally over.’

He goes back inside the carriage and them comes out with a girl, who is also wearing a robe. Over her eyes is a blindfold. Despite being mostly covered up, I can tell she’s hot.

‘May I present… Maria!’

The place erupts with more cheers, more clapping, more whistling.’

‘Artie,’ Maria whines, ‘where are you taking me?’

She sounds drugged or half asleep or perhaps she’s just an airhead. I can’t tell.

‘I’m taking you to a beautiful place, sweet child,’ says Artie, trying to comfort her.

He leads her to the table and lays her across it. She struggles meekly. She’s definitely drugged. He starts removing her clothes. And I am proven right. She is indeed hot. Artie is getting excited. And unfortunately, so am I. So for some reason, I choose this time to make my move.

I leap out of the broom closet. On the way out I almost trip on a mop but I regain my balance before everyone is hears the noise I make and looks at me. They are silent.

With little in the way of options, I grab the nearest person (who happens to be Chubby) by the waist and I whip my Orobos dagger to her neck. She lets out a scream, which stops as the dagger makes contact with skin.

‘Everybody just calm down,’ I say in a very non-calming voice.

‘Hey, I know you,’ chirps Artie.

‘Yes Artie, it’s me. Now just calm the hell down everyone!’

I notice that I am probably the only person on the platform (other than Chubby) who isn’t calm at the moment.

‘Now look, son,’ says one of the older guards, ‘there’s no need to do anything rash.’

‘Well I just want to know who cast a spell on me so that I can’t read and all that. And… um… er… I mean, I think it’s rather rude and… inconvenient… so would you please kindly remove it… and no one will get hurt.’

No one says a thing until the older guard speaks again.

‘So someone put a spell on you.’

‘That’s what I said, wasn’t it?’

‘Right you guys, who put a spell on this poor gentleman here?’

All the guards in their robes look at each other and shrug.

‘Oh… and also,’ I say, ‘stop with this secret magic business.’

‘What secret magic business?’ chirps Artie.

‘This! That,’ I say pointing to the torches, ‘that girl on altar.’

‘Maria? She’s not magical. We’re not doing anything magical.’

‘Really?’ I’m caught off guard. ‘So you’re not an evil demon-worshipping cult?’

‘Um… well,’ says Artie, ‘… well we are. But tonight, we’re just having a party.’

‘A party? Oh… really?’

Suddenly, Chubby decides to make a move and elbows me in my side and momentarily she’s free of me. No doubt this is one of the moves she learnt during her City Rail Transit Officer training.

Artie reacts and commands ‘GET HIM!’

I’m taken back by this, and in an act of pure instinct, I make a light cut on Chubby’s arm with the Orobos dagger and I push her away into the oncoming mob. I run towards an exit and in the background I can hear one of them.

‘That was an Orobos dagger he stabbed her with. Oh sh…!’ followed by the ripping sound of the hugest fart you’ve ever heard! I can hear little splattering noises and the bad egg gas smell fills the air with tremendous pungency. I dare not even turn around but I’m assuming that Chubby’s unfortunate… um… explosion has given me a bit of time.

The exit gate is barred shut. I pull at the lock to no avail but then someone on the other side of the gate opens the lock. It is Mitch!

‘Mitch! What are you doing here?’

‘Getting you out of here!’ he says.

He allows me to slip through the gate and then he shuts it before the mob of guards reach us. I’m pushing it shut against the pressure of the mob while he locks it.

‘Open up you bastards!’ cries a guard, whose robe is now covered in diarrhoea.

When the gate is locked, Micth pulls me away and then points towards the mob.

‘Er… um…fern… no… learn… um… BURN!’ And the guard bursts into flames! He reels back into the body of the mob, screaming.

Mitch leads me up the stairs and into the toilet.

‘Why are we going in there?’

‘Because we’ll never outrun them by foot,’ explains Mitch, showing impressive resolve despite his obvious (and usual) drunkenness.

He locks the door of the toilet and we run to a cubicle. Mitch rummages into his pocket and fumbles out a red texta. He then kneels down next to a toilet and starts drawing these symbols on the rim of the bowl. He closes his eyes and breathes in deeply, only to start coughing. Well a toilet (and a City Rail one at that!) is no place to be breating in deeply at all!

I notice the toilet bowl beginning to glow and Mitch says ‘Good! Gavel! The bowl glows brighter. ‘Um… um… quick, give me a word that rhymes with travel.’

‘Um,’ I’m thinking, ‘Dazzle!’ The bowl dims slightly.

‘That doesn’t rhyme with travel!’

‘Crap! Sorry! I can’t work under this amount of pressure! Um… er… gravel!’

Bowl glows brighter again.

‘Ravel! Unravel!’ I think I’m on a roll. And the bowl grows brighter still.

Crap, I’m not a roll!

‘One more,’ says Mitch.

‘Um… er…’ We can hear someone trying to open the toilet door.

‘Quickly!’

‘You think of one!’

‘I can’t! I’m too drunk!’

‘Um… well I can think of something, but it only sort of rhymes with travel.’

‘How sort of?’

‘Sort of… better than dazzle anyway.’

‘OK. Shoot then.’

‘Bevel!’

The toilet bowl glow splutters a little.

‘Good enough!’ beams Mitch, ‘… final touch… TRAVEL!’

A column of light emanates out of the toilet bowl with such force that I’m flung back out of the cubicle. Mitch says ‘Follow me!’ and jumps into the column of light and is sucked into the toilet.

‘What?! I’m not jumping into a toilet!’

I can hear the door banging. ‘Where are the keys! Where are the keys!’ someone is shouting.

I’m considering following Mitch in but before I make a decision, a hand jumps out of the bowl and grabs me!

‘Aaaaarggghh!’

And I’m sucked into the toilet! Into this vortext. I’m hurtling head-first at super speed underwater through pipes, past excrement and used nappies. Either I’ve shrunk or everything’s become huge. Mitch is just ahead of me and now I’m clinging to his foot. I guess this would be an awesome experience for anyone who’s ever wondered what it feels like to be a piece of poo being flushed down a toilet.

I just can’t say I’m one of them…