Goodnight, John-boy: Chapter 38
‘How ironic that a tower named after William Shakespeare, one of the world’s greatest writers, will be producing some of the most lowbrow publications the world has ever known.’
Welcome to Book Two of my dark comedy thriller series, Read Em And Weep.
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If you’re new to the Read Em And Weep series, start with Book One: Serial Killer.
It was just three weeks to go before Fleetpit Publications moved from Farringdon Street to join its parent media group in their new headquarters in Southwark. Joy drove Dave and Greg down past Blackfriars Bridge and parked opposite the tower that could be seen clearly across the Thames, now the final scaffolding had been cleared away. The forty-four storey, black glass building, one hundred and twenty-three metres tall, dominated the London skyline.
‘The Bard of Avon tower,’ said an impressed Greg.
‘How ironic,’ drawled Dave, ‘that a tower named after William Shakespeare, one of the world’s greatest writers, will be producing some of the most lowbrow publications the world has ever known.’
‘But we’re going to change that, aren’t we, Dave?’ said Joy.
‘Are we?’ said Dave uncertainly.
‘With Space Warp.’
Dave had thought up and had the title approved for his new sf comic. Following her break-up with Greg, Leni had decided Dave should be the editor.
‘Featuring the new Dan Darwin,’ Greg added.
‘I still say it’s a mistake bringing him back,’ said Joy.
‘Too late, Joy,’ said Dave. ‘She’s calling that press conference right now to announce the space hero’s return.’
‘Right outside the Bard,’ smiled Joy. ‘Perfect.’
They spread out in a line, looking across the river towards South London and the Bard.
‘The press will love it,’ said Greg. ‘It’s going to be huge publicity for Space Warp.’
Joy checked her watch.
‘Is it time?’ asked a worried Greg.
‘Not yet.’
Dave checked his watch. ‘Three minutes to eleven.’
They waited in silence as the minutes slowly ticked away. Dave looked blankly ahead, feeling nothing, thinking nothing.
A tense Greg looked anxiously across the river. Joy nervously paced up and down.
Then she went back to the car and looked at her watch again.
‘Okay. It’s time.’
She switched on the cassette player. ‘Thus Spake Zarathustra’ from the movie 2001: A Space Odyssey, boomed out at full blast.
And, at the Eleventh Hour, the sun rose in the heavens and the towering black slab of the Bard gleamed with a mysterious and unearthly light.
It truly resembled the Black Monolith.
‘It’s a Stargate,’ said Dave looking up at it in awe.
‘A portal to other times and galaxies,’ said Greg equally moved.
‘Warping time and space,’ said Dave.
‘A doorway to other realities,’ murmured Joy.
‘The perfect command centre for Space Warp,’ said Dave.
‘Let the Space Odyssey begin,’ said Greg.
‘You realise,’ said Joy in a hushed whisper, looking up at the mysterious edifice, ‘this could be the most powerful, most meaningful moment in the history of British comics.’
The insistent drums of Zarathustra beat ever louder and the music rose towards an emotional, triumphant crescendo.
‘It’s inspiring us,’ said Greg, speaking in equally hushed tones, absorbing the energy of the dark obelisk. ‘To create a comic that’s never been done before. A comic that could change its readers lives.’
‘At the Eleventh Hour,’ said Joy reverentially. ‘British comics were rescued from oblivion.’
‘With the birth of a new and very different science fiction comic … Space Warp,’ said Greg.
‘And it’s in the hands of monkeys,’ said Dave, thinking of the movie.
‘Yes,’ agreed Greg. ‘You should have brought along your gorilla suit.’
As the music approached its dramatic, lyrical, soul-soaring finale, a banner was unfurled from the top of the Monolith and ran down the side of the edifice. It read:
TIME MACHINE: Comics. SF. Movie Props. Toys. Collectables. Cinema. Horror. Fantasy. London’s ultimate sci-fi shop
‘Right on time,’ smiled Joy. ‘It’ll be seen all over London.’
‘Leni’s going to love you,’ grinned Dave.
Joy’s banner caught in the wind and flipped over, revealing a caption emblazoned across the other side, which read:
REPENT MALE CHAUVINISTS
YOUR WORLD IS COMING TO AN END
‘From my Women’s Liberation days,’ Joy explained. Dave and Greg looked at her disapprovingly.
‘Well, I didn’t want the banner to go to waste.’
As it flapped in the wind, she glowered across the water at her unseen staff, who she’d told to enter the Bard and carry out the stunt from the top floor.
‘Fucking idiots. I told them to weigh it down. Properly.’
‘The slogan is very you, Joy,’ said Dave.
‘We had some great slogans in those days,’ Joy recalled with relish. ‘Don’t cook dinner. Starve a rat today … Housewives are unpaid slaves. End human sacrifice. Don’t get married.’
‘I imagine you were one of those “yelling harpies” who threw stink bombs at the Miss World contest?’ suggested Dave.
‘Oh, yes,’ grinned Joy. ‘I was there with my rattle and flour bombs.’
‘So that was you?’ said an outraged Greg. ‘Bernie and I were enjoying lusting after Miss Africa South and Miss Sweden.’
‘That was when I decided to stop being a nice person,’ Joy explained.
‘And you’ve stayed true to yourself,’ said Dave. Joy looked over at the Black Monolith.
‘I loved 2001,’ she said. ‘Especially the ending.’
Thus Spake Zarathustra had come to its powerful, emotional and epic conclusion.
And all was silence now.
She looked anxiously over at them both. ‘We’ll get it right this time, won’t we, boys?’
Goodnight, John-boy is the second book in the Read Em And Weep series and you can buy it digitally or as a paperback.