The Middle Child of the Secret of the Lost Gavel

Freddy was on his feet once more and moved quickly toward Donnie.

Donnie’s side-step was anticipated and he was clawed down to the canvas. The plastic cracked from the impact, crazy lines terminating at the feet of Rambozo and The Cobbler.

Freddy twisted Donnie around and somehow locked his hands together as if in handcuffs. For all his obvious faults, obnoxious personality and appalling aspirations, Freddy was actually quite a good wrestler.

He had Donnie well and truly pinned.

As Donnie struggled, he got into even more trouble.

‘Okay,’ gasped Donnie. ‘I give up!’

‘No giving up,’ said Freddy.

‘Shit,’ said Donnie, wishing he’d taken his preferred approach to the whole wrestling thing, and beaten a track the hell away from the concept at its inception.

‘It’s all over now Penfolde,’ Freddy laughed like the maniac that he was.

Donnie was rolled over and held tight. Pinpricks of light exploded behind his eyes as the blood-supply was trapped away from his brain.

His ears thumped, sound began to echo and he thought for a moment that he heard Prime’s voice.

His earpiece buzzed again.

‘Zen Yoga…’ she said calmly, setting the mood. ‘Remember…’

‘Zen…,’ wondered Donnie, then the training that had bored him senseless, suddenly made perfect narrative sense.

He calmed his nerves… he calmed his muscles.

‘I am a unique… and interesting… snowflake…’ he murmured.

‘What?’ demanded Freddy.

Slowly, imperceptibly, he felt a tingling throughout his body that was less to do with being held in a position that should have knocked him out than the concentration exercise he had been taught.

His forehead tingled and he breathed out, letting his ribcage collapse and releasing tension from his torso.

Freddy’s hold slipped and he fell almost in slow-motion.

‘Oh… Fuuuuuuckkkk,’ said Freddy, his voice slowing and dropping an octave to Donnie’s ears.

Donnie rose slowly and inexorably, like a phoenix from a particularly clever bit of arson.

The crowd were silent, watching with jaws dropped.

In Donnie’s head, an imaginary orchestra played an impressive inspirational tune with lots of violins and trumpets.

He stood in the spotlight, now totally relaxed and in an amazing world of–

Hang about!

Bzornt!

He woke with a killer headache and instinctively felt between his legs. He frowned, momentarily confused and felt again.

Oh, this again, he thought.

Daisy opened her eyes. Blinked and frowned.

‘Who’re you?’ she asked the man directly above her. He had a very goofy expression on his face.

Click to see the next installment: When seafood bites back

Thanks to Stacey for the snowflakes.

Loafer Bread, North Fitzroy, February 2009