Well the words were right there in front of me. There was no use denying it. The Book of Revelations, chapter 20, verse 7.
“After the thousand years are over, Gorf will be let loose from his prison, and he will go out to deceive the nations scattered over the whole world, and reform his WebTeam and reign over all libraries and their keepers. He will be mightily vexed if his Team do not acquiesce to his wishes and, verily, they shall howl from the kicked shins he shall inflict upon them.”
Right there in black and white. OK - blue and white. And while I did find it extremely suspicious that the rest of the text in the Bible I was holding was printed in black ink and the passage I read out was handwritten in blue biro.
On a dated A4 page.
Stapled into the book.
Signed 'Ed'
Then again, who was I to argue here? I put the Bible down where I'd found it, and made my way out of the stacks and back to the first meeting in three years that hadn't exactly got off to a rocking start. Alex bustled past me with that harried look all librarians have and picked up the Bible I had put down and placed it in a place seemingly imperceptible from where I'd left it.Then buffed it up with his sleeve.
Still here in the WP Complex, the minutes from the first meeting were un-amicable to say the least.
Doosh had started carving his name into the wooden desk at which we all sat, which had set Chris off on one, eventually leading Doosh to begin a debate that stated, yes - although Chris might be able to produce receipts that said that the tables were legally his and he didn't appreciate his property being defaced in any fashion, the nature of the universe ultimately asked us all, at some time in our lives, what truly is possession and how will we be remembered after we have gone?
Then SC (Stone Cold) Steve began to crack his knuckles, then reached into the backpack he'd brought with him and brought out something that looked like a pigs hoof. And he began to crack those knuckles too. Chris objected to having such a product brought out at the meeting and asked that it be disposed of. So SC took a couple of sniffs and began to eat the hoof. The RAW hoof, that still dripped something that could only be described as 'precious bodily fluids'.
Surprisingly, Chris did nothing to curb such anti social behaviour and just sat there, humming to himself, what sounded like the Circle of Life. He'd just moved onto Hakuna Matata as Doosh and SC had ceased their display of rebelliousness. Alex still had a little left, so he planted a stool next to Chris and glared at him, shushing him every few minutes.
“Now my little munchkins. I have brought you here in to the heart of the empire that I have spent the last four years building. No one can ever find this town, and you can't leave without my express permission.” said Chris, smoking a Havana cigar that he produced from somewhere beneath the table - frankly I don't even want to contemplate what it was doing down there.
“Thanks to a Mr T Mallett, the distraction of university has been swept aside and allowed me to concentrate on more important matters. Those of you in the know, know that I first started the Webpaper as a tool for Global Domination. This has been lagging in recent years I freely admit and I used my spare time to survey my future kingdom.
Travelling far and wide, I have banished creatures previously thought of as myth to an early grave and, in a fate some would say is worse than death, employed most of them.”
Chris was getting a faraway look in his eye as he 'treated' us to stories of a small Eastern European town.
“...they seemed to have an unhealthy obsession with garlic and displayed icons that had nothing to do with the worship of me. ( NO 17 in the Webmaster Deadliest Sins)...”
We seemed to be listening to Chris' tale at first but the more I focussed on the others the more I came to recognise that glazed over look in their eyes.
“.....the man who over saw the people, a Count or so I'm told. I never actually saw the man...” Alex produced a book from seemingly nowhere and began to stroke it's spine while cooing at it.
“...obviously not a big fan of natural light because all his windows were boarded up and there was not a mirror to be seen...”
SC went to that special place that we all have in our minds where (and this is just a guess, mind you,) Chris was locked in a dark room and you controlled a steady current of electricity that runs through the floor.
“...so I did the man a favour and remodelled his house, down came the boards and such...”
Doosh took out a flick-knife and spread his hand out on the table and began to jab at the spaces between his fingers. Unfortunately, from Doosh's altitude a slight miscalculation led to him jabbing my ear and spearing it to the tabletop.
“...as I woke up the next day, the man had apparently died! And his peasants were celebrating! Would you believe the insolence?”
Chris finished his little speech to see SC and Alex having a Peanut War (or as Alex likes to call it - Beware My Mighty Hand!), Doosh was chatting up one of the beiges who work (I use the word in the loosest sense possible when you are employed by Chris) as researchers for the site and me with my head on the table not only because my ear was part of the furniture but also because I was now asleep (which just goes to show how talented I am to be so severely injured and asleep and be able to recall a conversation like that)
“Damn your eyes, my little chickadees!” cried Chris in rage thumping the table, missing it completely and smooshing my head into the desk, no doubt causing even more long term damage. Which led to Alex beating SC in a war of the mightiest thumbs (something I am sure SC will dispute even now), and led to the meek little thing that happened to be on the receiving end of Doosh's chat up lines to scurry away from the library.
“Sit down you miniscule lambchops, while I am still feeling charitable.” We edged our way back onto our seats at the table and listened to the Chief.
“Since my experiences seem to be a cause for distraction, I think we will hear from everyone about our absences from work. And I will only accept the plausible excuses that come with doctors notes. Mwa. Haha.Hahahahahahahah. Hah.”
He gestured grandilinquently, which was quite a strain for the rest of us to watch from that close a proximity. Eventually the thing that started as a flourish wound up pointing at Alex.
“Gather round gentlefolk as I recall a tale of such exquisite occurrences and eventualities, the likes of which you have never encountered in this or the next. The bar brawls, the car explosions and the sheer paragliding experience of a fable is the one I shall lay before you now.”
From his stool planted next to Chris, he put his feet on his seat and squatted down on the top managing to balance himself while prefabricating his arms around. (Not quite as powerful as grandilinquintly but a notch above gesticulation)
“I have achieved a state of near Zen like tranquility. After the Office disbanded the first time, I found myself with a new purpose. I had one day picked up an innocent looking book. I found that I couldn't put it down.
As I reached chapter 13, I passed out. As I came too, I found myself in a strange landscape that matched what was being described in the novel. I was in a bit of a panic, that was for sure. I attempted to walk my way through to the end f the novel. I came across a few villages and settlements. In these places my hair was lauded as rowdy and breaching the peace. It seemed the people inhabiting this place mistook me for a character in the story. I ran and hid in the local forest.
I foraged what I could from the strangely plentiful fruit that grew in the fridges that grew on the trees. Until one day, one of the fridges bit back! As it opened up again and let me out I was faced with a a strange sight. A tiger, a hag and a chest of drawers...”
Chris, who had been listening calmly, took a small aerosol cannister out of his pocket and sprayed its contents in Alex's face.
“A little pepper spray, just for being a plagiaristic little tit. When can I expect your latest piece?”
“Up ours-yay, ou-yay astard-bay!” came Alex's reply.
“Excellent - I see Lang has been busy spreading the good word to the rest of you. Just you carry on praying to me and we'll hear Steve's story next.”
Amidst mutterings of 'Ou'll-yay ay-pay or-fay hat-tay' and 'Leep-say ith-way one eye open', Steve began his story.
“I have passed though the gates of hell and emerged hardened, like clay going through the forge. I am a new man - call me Stone Cold now.”
“Steve, dude. Norwich can't really be that bad can it?” asked Doosh.
“'Tis not the Norfolk place that I shall tell you of now, here, at this time. It began one Saturday morning. Naturally being a student, I sponge, therefore I am.
My experiments in this vein includes such items as my disposable razor, which having served me faithfully four months after it is recommended by manufacturers, turned on me that morning and produced this stylish scar which now appears to be smiling a you all. With my throat and vocal chords severed I managed to phone the emergency services and relate to them, via the art of mime, my predicament. Which, I am sure you will all agree, is quite a feat.”
Murmured noddings of the head and one shaking indicated our thoughts.
“Racing to the hospital in the ambulance was a fight to stay alive - to stay alive until they had arrived at my home, I had to keep as much blood as I could in my neck so I stapled it together. The paramedic was trying to remove them on route to the hospital so I needed a weapon to fend him off, I'll tell you that for nothing.
I arrived at the hospital a damn sight healthier than he did at least. I was rushed straight into theatre where for some reason they performed open heart surgery during an anaesthetic drought, not even laughing gas. The best they could provide was a cassette tape of The Best American Stand Up in the 80s. That was tough, but I braved through it all.”
We were speechless, even Chris had a look of shock on his face. Doosh was weeping and sobbing, 'God not American 80s stand up, no living thing should have to suffer so'.
“These days I don't let anything get in my way. That surgery has taught me a valuable lesson. Take what you want from life any way you can, before someone straps you to an operating table and plays you jokes about yuppies that are 20 years out of date. I'm a changed man, I've even made something you may have heard of. Anyone here seen Fight Club? I am the model for Tyler Durden.”
“Wow,” Alex whispered in awe, “you' re really a soap salesman?”
SC lunged at Alex - a stand up survivor versus a wilderness survivalist.
Doosh had already started giving the odds.
Five minutes later as we pulled SC out of the pile of collapsed stacks and Alex out of the stair case railings, Chris passed judgement, for he who has no mercy (or subtlety) can never be kept waiting.
“And when can I expect your next piece?”
“I already gave it to you, I'm waiting for you to put it up.”
“Zis is unacceptable. I need another one. NOW!”
“Am I going to get paid?” asked SC.
“Oh yes. You'll get what's coming to you. Heh. Heheh.” and Chris began stroking his stomach.
SC sat down with a slightly worried look on his face.
“My little eclair, Doosh, we have been waiting for your tale.”
Doosh, edged his chair away from Chris at being called an eclair and cleared his throat.
“When the paper broke up the first time, I had no where to base myself in my efforts to expose the corrupt dealings of the government I live under. I was left out in the cold.” He scowled at us all, and from his height a scowl can severely interfere with the gravity of the planet.
“Americans to the left of me, Americans to the right and there I was, stuck in the middle alone. There was nothing for it, I couldn't let them take me, I was and am far too important.
I did the only thing available to me. I go a job and lost myself in the system. You may call this working and, indeed, supporting the government, but not me. I planned to bring it down from the inside and to do that I needed to locate the Underground.”
For the next half an hour Doosh told us how he had worked his way through jobs until he found people as disgruntled as he.
“Before I came along, they couldn't even form a strike action. Now I tell them what to do tehy all agree life is much better...or else” he added darkly.
“It wasn't long before I was lauded as a champion for the People and on my 21st birthday, I formed the Underground as a legit political group with me as leader...yes I made sure they 'voted' for me...heh.
We are the hot favourites for the elections, and soon I will rule from the seat of tyranny known as the White House and I will be an incorruptible Commander in Chief for all. You're all next, it's just a matter of time, come over to us and make it painless.”
He began rubbing his hands and, now I looked more carefully, only blinked once every few minutes. We all edged away very slowly except for Chris.
“Do ye not bow before me?” asked Doosh.
“Aye, I do not!” replied Chris.
“Insolence!!”
“Ditto!!!”
“I shall make ye see the errors of your ways.” Doosh made to grab Chris with his thumb and index finger but Chris managed to roll away thanks to a decoy made from a dust mite that fooled Doosh.
“Hands shall not be laid upon the Master of the Web!” (NO 70 in the Webmaster's Deadliest Sins) At this Chris pulled out his Ol' Trusty and blasted away at Doosh's kneecaps, which was, you have to admit, quite a bit of marksmanship.
Doosh began his long descent to the floor via the upper atmosphere, crying in pain.
“EMUs to the library, EMUs to the library.” said Chris into a walkie talkie.
“Emu?” asked SC, “I thought Rod Hull was dead.”
“Emergency Medical Units, you little breadcrumb. Make sure they clean him up. Meeting adjourned.” said Chris walking away.
I was aghast, which, in this atmosphere you have to admit, was quite a feat.
“What about my story?” I asked, “ I'm sure I could beat these guys versions.”
“No” came the reply, along with a couple of shots, for luck apparently, to my shins. “A story based around day time television can't beat one based on a major film, a piece of literature or Doosh's fantasies. Meeting is adjourned.”
I lay there on the ground, maximum safe distance from Doosh's impact point, howling out for an EMU of my own as Chris reached the door of the library and said, “We're back in business, get to work.”
THE LANG