Thursdays With Uncle Boom #67

Hmm. I am not quite sure about this Dobbers.

I remarked to my good friend Dobbers A fine fellow, despite having a face like rectal discharge.

Oh don't be so stiff, old chap! This will be huge fun! It's almost Christmas after all!

Dobbers cried excitedly.

We were standing outside X-scape. A building which housed one of those new faddy escape from a locked room games. One of the fellows in the club, Jizzardy, had escaped from one in 15 minutes. He had spent the last week crowing about how clever he was.

So clever in fact that he had loudly proclaimed that if anyone could beat his team's time that he would pay them a thousand pounds. This had made Dobbers nose twitch like a severed salamander's tail at the thought.

And here we were.

I finished the last of the 40-year-old Dalmore that myself and Dobbers had been passing back and forth for the last ten minutes and threw the bottle into the gutter with a sigh.

Righto. Let us get on with it then.

Inside an enthusiastic young man greeted us and handed us name-tags to wear, there were four others waiting for the game to start. The young man took us down a corridor to a set of double doors. On it, in a crudely painted style reminiscent of early Jurgen, were the words.

Escape or DIE...

One of the young lady peons, Iris according to her name-tag giggled nervously.

Ooo, that's a bit scary!

I gave her the pelican eye.

Hmmph Iris, if you think that's scary, get Dobbers here to get out his left ball, it's bizarrely cube-shaped. Now that is scary.

Boomy! Don't tell everyone?!

Sputtered Dobbers, his face reddening.

The young man craned his head up to see us all and made a two-handed downward gesture as if drowning in excrement.

Settle down everyone! Now. My name is Anil and I am your Games Master for this evening.

He grinned like a dog eating bolognese.

So, I will just go over some basic rules before you begin your...

What?! Your name is Anal? What kind of bloody name is that? There are ladies present?

I interrupted him indignantly.

He looked quite annoyed as if his twenty plus years of lonely masturbation should have garnered him more respect.

An-eel. An...eel.

He stated rather frostily.

I whipped my head back and forth.

What! Where? I'll kill the fucker?

I pulled my cane out and swung it about menacingly.

One of the peons, a large bellied creature, reached a hand out to ward off my cane.

I think he means is name is Aneel, mate?

I stopped my avant-garde swishing and fixed the peasant type with a stern gaze.

And who the fuck are you fatty?

What? Fatty?! I'll fucking Fatty you, you old bastard?!

Anil hurriedly stepped between us.

Guys! Guys! Calm, everyone please calm down. This is meant to be fun. Now you, Harry is it? I am sure the right honourable gentleman here didn't mean to offend. If we can just all be calm we can get on with the game.

Fatty Boom Boom, drew me a mean look and muttered something foul under his breath.

I smiled graciously.

Of course, I forget myself at times. Well, let's carry on then?

I stated magnanimously.

Anil, happy now that he had secured peace, ran through the instructions for the game.

Dobbers studiously jotted down the rules on a little notepad. I tucked my cane under one arm and idly scratched the tip of my penis. It often tingled when it sensed adventure.

Finally, the instructions were done. Essentially we were to figure out a bunch of clues to get out of said room and had a time limit of 60 minutes. One of the party was handed a walkie-talkie, through which, we could ask for hints if need be.

I tried not to let my eyes roll out of my head at the tedium.

The doors opened and we were ushered in.

The room resembled a Victorian hotel room. A solitary bed occupied one side and a dresser and bookcase the other. There was a stick with a hook on it lying on the floor and what looked to be a wall safe with an empty keyhole. On the dresser was a torch with the battery compartment lying open and some random jigsaw pieces beside it.

And so, I shall now leave you, to escape... Or die!

Anal bowed and stepped backwards closing the double doors. The unmistakable snick of a key turning told us that we were now locked in the room.

Well, this is a rum do, isn't it?

I remarked to Dobbers as I pulled out my pipe. I thumbed some of my new baccy in it, Martyr's Harrow, a fine thing with notes of dark roots and despair in the smoke.

I noticed the other peons clustering around one another and muttering about clues. I scanned the room quickly.

Fat Harry, looked over.

Hey, maybe you want to put out the pipe and start helping?

Dobbers winced as if his arse was giving him the Egypt's again.

I took a puff of my pipe and checked the large clock on the wall, one minute gone already. Splendid. I swished my cane with my free hand and stepped toward Jabba the Harry and his peonic congregation.

Let us begin then!

I bellowed.

We exited the room some minutes later. Dobbers was mopping an unhealthy sheen of sweat from his brow and was visibly trembling.

Anal stepped toward us.

My goodness! Five and a half minutes! Quite incredible!

He looked around us quizzically.

Where are the others?

I'm afraid they didn't make it.

I exclaimed cheerily.

What? What do you mean, didn't make it? Make what? Is everything alright? Wait? Is that blood on your shirt?

I started walking toward the exit with Dobbers in tow.

When you call the Police, tell them it was Professor Plum, with the wrench, in the Conservatory!