A Beastie Christmas

Beastman’s up for a right old raucous Festive Season, it brings the animal out in him; he lets rip and stuffs his face full of mince pies, pet cats, Christmas cake and gallons of wine, nice! For it’s the time of the year for a right old knees up to chase away those winter blues cos the longest night is past; it’s a time for bloating out one’s gut gggrrrrhhhhhhhhhh!!!

And he farts and sniggers and it may be cat’s blood he’s drinking but don’t be alarmed, it’s all in the Spirit of Christmas...even when he scratches his claws down the side of 4 wheel drives parked in the posh part of town and pisses in the park iced with frost at 4am on the way back from the lock in.

“Tis all in good fun, and an ‘appy Christmas to you me luvs! ... Aaaggghhh tis good to be a Beast at heart and free of yer modern obsession with possessions and Christmas cards!”

Thus spake the Beast as he staggered back from gate crashing a pagan gathering marking the solstice, hippies he had much fun scaring witless as he appeared with a blood curdling GGGGGGGGGGGGGGGRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Treacle

She tries her best to be nice, to say the sweetest things and to smile. At the cashier, the bloke down the garage, her boss, her boss’s boss and even the cleaner of the office.

Sweat oozes out at times with the sheer effort of being nice; of not being seen as a threat, different, someone to not ask out, to lay into, to bitch about.

She spends hours at a time online dating, improving her accent, applying makeup. 

But cracks appear in her portrayal, her betrayal, of herself.

Damn!

Coupled Up

They’ve been an item for five years now and it’s incredible how long it’s lasted considering he has Neanderthal eating habits and doesn’t wash from one month to the next. It must be his animal magnetism and innate insolence towards those in authority that keeps the flame alive; she’s always fancied a rebel.
And the magic certainly does spark up, like when he graffities the underpass with her name in a heart and climbs a crane with a banner demanding an end to speciesism and corporate destruction of the natural world.
Having said that though it can be hard living in the shadow of such a character; her best mate warned her ‘once a beast, always a beast’.
His unattractive traits like the fact he refuses ever to remove his coat and his uncontrollable urge to chase cats are things she finds hard to stomach. But after five years they’re still together. It must be love.

Piskey Threshing

On her calamitous journey back from market we’ve heard about how our spirit-troubled housemaid in the tale 'Fairy Ointment' ended up in several ditches whilst under the influence of various alcoholic beverages, and fairy ointment itself which, if placed in the eye, brings the Otherworld into vision. This is a yarn she also used to tell about her night of high adventure...

“I was so weary and felt no more could I continue homeward. I was seeing all manner of strange happenings, giants looming from hedgerows, the tinkling of fairy bells and even the Devil himself upon his charger, baying hounds at his side! Then I espied the light of a lantern coming from a barn and heard the sound of corn being threshed, it must be a farmer working late thought I. 

“So I crossed the cobbles and peeped through the door and saw Piskey himself threshing corn 

with his skinny long arms, dressed in ragged clothes with a face full of pointy teeth that glistened as he raised the flail over and over bringing it down on the corn causing clouds of dust to rise up. In the half light I beheld his workers, no more than two feet high; some lugged down sheaves and placed them close by for him, others shook the straw and bore it off to the end of the barn.

"But no sooner had I spoken the words than the light went out and all vanished and I felt a handful of dust thrown into my poor eyes that nearly blinded the only peeper that I could see anything out of!

“T’was at this point I remembered that the small people have great spite against anyone who watches them or tries to pry into their doings. So I briskly carried on across the moor but the bridle-paths were all askew. It must be that troublesome Piskey playing tricks because, turn whichever way I would, the path was always before me!

“After going on for a long while, at last I saw light and heard music. But instead of arriving at a house I came all at once on a level green surrounded by furze and there I saw the small people holding a fair. Scores of stalls were covered with trinkets, buckles of silver and gold glistening with diamonds, rings, bracelets and strings of crystal beads. Not to disturb the fairy folks I crept along softly till I stood opposite a company of dancers linked hand in hand, whirling around a maypole garlanded with flowers.

“I soon got to thinking about how well the bright little buckles would look, fixed as brooches, on my shawl, and thus determined to secure them at once. I knew that turning a garment inside out serves to keep the fairy folk at bay and as there was nothing that could be so readily turned inside-out except my apron, I took it off and turned it around. But whilst trying to grasp the buckles, pins or needles so small that I didn't notice them stuck into my fingers and I cried out, 'Oh! Cuss 'e! You little buccas!'

“That instant all the lights went out, and all the fair and most of the small people vanished like shadows among the rock, or sunk into the earth. I took up my skirt and ran fast as I could through puddles and mire to leave behind that enchanted place and the devilish Piskey who I swore I could see in the moonlight laughing at me!”

First Kiss

The first time Dogman and I kissed was on an end of season seaside prom lit by blue and red lights many of which had long since packed in, a fact which Dogman observed with his acute eye and perceptive manner.

Those the worse for wear staggered homeward beneath circling seagulls, their screeches a reminder of their reptilian past whilst the sea played like a harp on the shingle as we strolled beneath the coloured bulbs, Dogman’s tail occasionally brushing my thigh.

It was a moment I’ll remember for the rest of my life as we accidentally ended up in each other’s arms avoiding discarded beer cans and chips on the cracked paving slabs. Before I knew it I was stroking his furry chin and tickling his ears to the sound honking horns and the jeers of youths bored on the bench by the park.

Fairy Ointment

“In a friendly manner as is my fashion I decided to call by Betty’s on the way to market but on hearing voices within the cottage I had a peep through the key hole whereupon I saw Betty taking ointment from a shell which she rubbed over her husband Tom’s eyes whilst mumbling some strange verse of a charm.

“As I opened the door Tom was edgy as a ferret and quickly disappeared so me and Betty decided to have a nice cup of rum washed down with brandy to keep the cold off our backs and our spirits high. Off Betty went to get the liquor, which gave me a moment to have a closer look at the ointment. Being of a curious disposition I placed some of the green substance in my left eye. Immediately it was as if a rod of fire or needles and pins had been thrust in it!

“I quickly pulled my hat down over my tear-filled eye as Betty returned and we proceeded to drink to each other’s health four times over with some excellent French brandy. Having drunk to the health of her children and the mermaids of the sea I was able at last to open my stinging eye and I beheld before me all kinds of spriggans and men dressed in green with their ladies wearing flowing robes with silver bells on the hems! I was with great effort able to retain my composure until I at last bade farewell to Betty and I was very relieved to leave that enchanted cottage!

It was late afternoon by the time I reached the market and having bought some essentials I stopped for some beer at the public house which I drank with the Christmas cake I had in my pocket. Dusk was beginning to fall as I returned to the market to pick up some spices I’d previously forgotten to purchase and there I happened upon Tom who was pocketing all manner of things without anyone noticing a thing! Unperturbed I strode right up to him.

“Aren’t ye ashamed to be carrying on such a game, Tom?” He turned of a sudden and seemed full of shock that I could see him.

“So, Joan, which eye can thou see me with?” So I closed my left then my right eye and replied,

“Why Tom, I can see you with my left eye.” He then poked me hard in the very same eye saying,

“Thou cursed old spy-

Thou shall see me no more

Nor peep nor pry

Out of that charmed eye.”

“And my sight in that eye was gone in an instant! I called to the market sellers to catch the thief but he was completely invisible to them and in such a rude manner they called me drunken old baggage! I was so bewildered and tossicated I staggered to the public house once more for a horn of beer to deaden the pain before I began my journey home afoot.

“The only light was from a few fishermen’s cottages and on numerous occasions I fell in the ditch at the side of the road but awhile on I knew it must be dawn as the maids were in the fields milking the cows and one of the boys who was bringing out hay helped me along the track to smithy’s where I had a good glass of new-fashioned cordial called shrub which did my stomach much good.

He kindly helped me across the stream and I continued onwards until I fell into a pit of muddy water. Scrambling out like a toad I espied a horse which I managed to place myself astride. The beast took off at a trot which soon became the gallop of the Devil’s charger and I clung on to the mane and tail whilst being thrown about on the back till I landed on a bunch of rushes in a bog!

“Hobbling down the moor bare-footed I then heard the sound of a bugle-horn and a galloping horse, it must be the Old One himself come to get me for good, I thought. I prayed hard for deliverance as I crawled into an old barn and fell amongst the straw in a state of exhaustion but I was soon awoken from my fitful slumber by the barking of dogs and the tramping of hooves. A moment later I had another fit as the squire himself was leaning over me!

“Well, look who’s here among the straw, dead drunk!” Said he.

“Oh dear master what wicked things have befallen me tonight!”I replied, all atremble.

“They took me to the mill nearby for a drop of brandy and covered me with blankets and flour sacks, but not over my head as I wouldn’t have my best bonnet covered with sacks. They wheeled me back to the manor in a barrow and I do believe that that last drop of brandy saved my life. Before long I was sat in front of the blazing fire in the old hall whereupon I told of the night’s strange happenings and finally, exhausted, closed my eyes. Though to be honest it was a fox’s sleep with eyes closed and ears open, which is how I overheard the devilish miller say to the squire that it was merely the liquor I had drunk with Betty that’d caused my Otherworldly visions and that the apparitions old women see are merely the vapours of spirits taken in their drink!

“I was most upset by this cruel insult and one day I may forget and then forgive but that, believe me, will be a long way off!”

The Old Woman And Her Nightgown

There was once an old woman who lived in a time long before now when our grandparents were toddlers in their cots. One night whilst curled up in bed she heard banging and quarrelling going on inside her cottage which sent shivers down her spine, as well you can imagine. She pulled the moth eaten bed covers up over her head as fast as her skinny arms would let her, and it was a long time later she got to sleep! In the brisk morn when finally she dared get out of bed she found on the table a shiny coin which definitely hadn’t been there the night before. Strange goings-on indeed!

The next night the same noises filled her cottage and once more with a thumping heart she hid under the bed covers. In the morning again there was a silver coin. A week or so later on hearing the squabbling and clunking she took a deep breath and peeked out from under the covers. To her surprise she saw some spriggans with sacks of treasure they shared out amongst themselves, arguing in heated whispers as they did so. She pulled the covers up over her eyes as fast as her squeaky bones would let her!



For several nights the same thing happened until, though grateful for the extra money, she was getting fed up of the sleepless nights and was becoming rather jealous of all the silver and gold. She wanted some of it for herself! Thinking long and hard she decided to turn a garment inside out. It was known amongst our ancestors that doing so made the folk of the Otherworld powerless.


However, this old lady was in bed, all she had on was her nightshift! So she squirmed under the sheets for a good half hour, stifling whimpers due to her achy bones. At last she leapt (well, creaked) out of bed and showed the spriggans the seams of her inside out nightgown. They were furious (and a bit shocked at the sight) and were powerless to do her any harm. In the blink of an eye they were gone! She sat on her bed with a pile of treasure on her lap, a grin splitting her face. In the morning she went straight to the land agent and bought herself a cottage by the harbour and lived comfortably off for the rest of her days.

The Story of Beastman-The Journey To The Otherworld

Open publication - Free publishing - More art

A young lass up on the moor has the shock of her life when she bumps into Beastman, legend of the Moor. She is is given the task of getting some shopping for him as he finds it 'hard to discreetly walk the aisles' of a supermarket. Will she return with his shopping and live to tell the tale.....?

Rubber Gloves

She grew up in a crumbly old house in the northern realms where spiders were big as a grown man’s fist and furry as his beard. As a child she’d hear tick, tick ticking down the wall the eight feet of the kind of spider that hunts and swallows mice whole, or so she’d been told. Sometimes she’d even awaken to the beady eyes of a black beast staring back at her until her screams sent it scuttling off across the room on its hasty legs.
The outhouse where the coal was kept harboured her second biggest fear, those creatures that are a blur of brown if you happen to look down when one of them is passing. Tunnels earthed out underground by these ministers of plague made the hanging up of washing a precision chore involving wellies tied with string, a good strong broom and precision pegging. She had it down to a fine art.
And rubber gloves, well, they made her heart palpitate at the thought of strongly disinfected surgeries and the synthetic-gloved hands of doctors, dentists and vets, and that fatal glimpse of a pile inside out in the bin as they are peeled off with a suck and a slap and chucked swiftly in.

Women and Cars

He's nervous due to recurring nightmares involving women and cars and for a sensitive type has a shady past. He finds it hard to say no and one particular favour led him down a dark alley and into a situation involving fast women and cars, sharp suits and even sharper knives. Not a nice place to be even with the razor teeth and claws of a dog.
But as he's a canine used to the easy life of a housing estate all he uses his claws for are to scratch the odd flea off his back that escaped the herbal dog shampoo and he's never had to chase a rabbit for his supper in his life. He's a tinned food dog through and through hence the mezmerized look every time he hears a tin opener in action and his blind devotion to women with a stash of Chappie.

Shopping

She’s my love, I love it when she sings.

When I sing she goes shopping.

Hoover

She’s a cleaner at the local branch of a nationwide estate agents. She’s seen countless staff come and go over the years and to her they are one mass of aftershave and perfume.

She brusquely dusts and mops, shoving feet out of the way with her hoover nozzle as she leans forward to pick up biscuit crumbs and crisps absentmindedly dropped, commenting on the weather or cost of living these days.

When they’ve gone home she makes a cuppa and rifles through their biscuit stash, dipping a handful of Shorties into her milky tea whilst watching TV in the staff area.

She knows she’s being filmed by the numerous CCTV cameras in the office and has a Devil-may-care attitude towards them, sprawling on the boss’s chair with her feet up on his desk, fantasising about zapping him up with her hoover. She takes great pleasure whenever one of his biros zips up the hoover tube or some lipstick accidentally dropped on the floor by Amanda or Claire finds its way into her hoover bag.

Not that she’s nasty in anyway, but everyone has to have some level of job satisfaction.