THE TALE OF THE BIRTHDAY BEAR - PART 4

When Shy woke, late next morning - under a bush in Hyde Park, he wished he'd not been more strict with Speccy. After all, with his powers - he probably could have influenced him to open the bathroom door. Anthony had commented on how much Shy had changed – which was ironic seeing as Anthony was far from his old self. What WAS going on in that flat? Shy wondered if he was over-reacting – foolish to listen to the predictions of a cat? It seemed, only his trusty Cub in crime believed him!

“What happened? What happened? What happened?” cried Luke, all bouncy and puppy-like, when they met at lunchtime – he seemed about to excitedly explode. “WHHAAAAAAAAT HAPPENED?”

“Okay! Calm down... I talked to Dan and he confirmed the party at Speccy's! I talked to Ant himself, and actually described the message and he pretty much told me to get lost and stop being ridiculous!”

“HE SAID THAT?” Luke sounded totally outraged. “WHY - JUST YOU WAIT 'TIL I...”

“Please, cub... Wooooe now... You must admit this whole story of ours does sound a little bit - odd...”

Luke stopped sipping his latte and frowned, “Yes – but we know it's true – they have to believe us!”

“Of course! Actually…" Shy paused, relating what had happened when he'd gone over to Ant's flat. “I'm beginning to wonder what’s going on… What I mean is, if there's danger then it's not necessarily from outside! That it may be something of their own doing – some surprise Ant might be planning!”

Luke looked all bouncy and mad eyed again. “What? Something like an exploding birthday cake that goes out of control and destroys the world? Or a bad case of food poisoning which turns everyone into zombies? It could be, you know! What about the bathroom? Maybe the slugs came back! Well?”

Shy smiled sadly. Dan had decided that Anthony needed a pet and had planted a pair of randy slugs under the bath and the devils had mated like crazy until one day Ant had come home to find them all having a dinner party in the front room. How rude!! It had taken quite some time and an eviction order to get rid of them - and Danbear had still not paid up for all the damage he'd caused. At the moment he gave Ant one large bag of chocolate buttons a week - but it would take years to fully repay, especially with interest rates being almost a creme egg every fortnight, in the current financial climate…

“To be honest I'm baffled...” Shy admitted. “But we need to keep a close eye on both Dan and Speccy at Popstarz tonight? Are you up for it, fella? I could do with a bit of help on this one...”

Luke grinned, “Of course...” he replied, clapping his paws together eagerly. “I'd be most happy to!!”

“Then I've got me a side kick!!” grinned Shy – and felt rather pleasantly satisfied at that.

*
The SCALA, where Popstarz was held every Friday, was as busy as ever. They’d come prepared with Retro Bar Q-jump tickets and as they handed them to a man at the door, it seemed everyone they knew had shown up. Shy soon recognised Carlos Paella and his feline companion, Juanita who was busily snaffling pilchards truffles, whilst they both lay stretched out on the bar chain smoking and lapping on expensive milk cocktails. “Hi! Ooo-weee! How are you, daddy?” Carlos called out merrily once he saw them, adjusting his gold lame cat suit and buffing his medallion. “I DO like your outfits laydees!”

“Why does he call you that?” whispered Luke, teetering on heels that were at least a metre high. He'd also got a bit of glitter caught somewhere unpleasant and was finding it very difficult to remove. “Why does he call you daddy again, I've forgotten... You’re too young to be his father, surely oh furry one!?”
“Because…” sighed Shy disparagingly. “Basher lived with me as a kitten - and he’s Junita's son...”

Luke remembered. “So what did you two come as?” he asked Carlos rather reluctantly, now realising that they needn’t have gone to such extreme. “So, who was it told you it was fancy dress, anyway?”

“Same person who told you, I expect!” sighed Carlos. “Although Juanita and I have been telling the guys that we’re not IN fancy dress! That we just like to make an effort!” Juanita purred in agreement.

Prankster Dan and his “good lady wife” had arrived in casual clothes, yet delighted in suggesting that guests dressed up. Hence, there was Carlos looking like a glam rocker, Luke looking like some kind of acid-fuelled drag queen, with Shy some sort of mutant cross between Dame Edna, Madonna and a pair of net curtains. “Those two have never forgiven me the time I refused to give them the recipe for my Mother's Ancestral Furry Fruitcake!” muttered Shy. “Sorry - but that’s a family secret nobody shares!”

“He should never have asked...” Luke added protectively. “Family recipes are sacrosanct…”

“Well, at least we stand out, laydees...” grinned Carlos as he lit himself another large cigarette.

“But what on earth has Juanita come as?” Shy suddenly blurted out as he noticed that the black and white cat was admiring herself in the mirror above the bar “It's 2/3rds Ziggy Stardust, a pint or more of Barbarella, mixed with a smidgeon of Olivia Newton John in Grease and little early-70s Pink Floyd...”

“All of that and more... She looks good, yeah?” they had to agree that she did. “She’s supposed to be ABBA, laydees – but she didn’t quite pull it off… Anyway, what drinks are you having, my dears?”

“Back in a mo!” promised the Yeti, dragging Luke away from the bar before he could order. There was still a lot of business to attend to. Soon, Shy and Luke were upstairs in the Rock Music floor. Here all the indie kids and cubs were dancing to Britpop one minute; Garbage, Pulp, Elastica, Blur and the latest single from any number of current favourites; Franz Ferdinand, The Bravery, Kaiser Chiefs, The Libertines - the next. There had been no sign of Dan or Anthony on the ground floor and no sign here – so Shy suggested that he go straight up to the Cheesy Pop Floor, whilst Luke checked out the Easy Listening Bar. “Text me, if they show up! Try and get them into a conversation about this dinner party tomorrow! I’ll see you in a minute... Don't throw your drink over anyone now, will you?"

“As if I’d ever!?!” Luke grinned, remembering when he'd done that once to Shy, one heady night in The Kings Arms and with that the two friends hurried off chuckling, in separate directions.

A minute or two later, up on the third level, Shy found himself shimmying through the crowds to a spot of Kylie. (One of his former mentors favourites!) It was a smaller and more crowded room than the Rock floor and there was no viewing gallery to check out the comings and goings of clubbers.

“Come on! Let’s have a coupla Tequilas for old times sake!” called his friend, David who was dancing frantically up on a podium, a perfect viewpoint, but he couldn’t spot Dan or Ant. David was dressed in what can only be described as armour. “Forgive the costume!” he added, voice almost lost inside the suit. “I came with my other half – he suggested I dressed up for the night and I misunderstood!!”

“Something very similar happened to me!” Shy explained and knocked back a quick Tequila or two before thinking he’d spotted Dan heading downstairs. “Look, I’ll be back! I have to find someone!”

Down in the Easy Listening Bar – the music was only background and didn’t drown the conversation. It was here that Luke had caught up with Anthony, “I think Shy wants a word!” he was saying, “…It’s about the party – about that strange message we received… It really is a genuine warning, you know!”

“From a CAT!” mocked Ant unkindly. “Listen Luke! The birthday party is still going to happen – no matter what you say… Now, what about this drink you promised me? Am I wasting my time?”

“I’m trying!” Luke apologized meekly, “All the bar men seem to be ignoring me – am I invisible?”
“Can I be of any assistance?” interrupted Shy as he hurriedly joined them. “Happy to use a little Yeti Magic! BARMAN!” he called, staring at a passing serve. “Anyone seen, Dan? I SAY – BARMAN!!”

“Not recently… I don’t think that waiter’s seen you, Shy!” sighed Luke, patting his friend on the shoulder, whilst waving a twenty pound note in the barman’s general direction, “Hello!? Drink man!”

Speccy appeared to be finding all this very amusing – especially Shy’s inability to use his Yeti influence. “Poor Shy! You and your newly found Magic don’t seem to have the required effect today!”

“It WILL do once I catch his eye, I assure you… Anyway – who told you about my powers…”

“Dan of course… Said you started using them after your bang on the head… HEY! BARMAN!!!”

Suddenly everything went dead, literally dead – nothing moved except them – not even the dancing clubbers. “Having trouble gentlemen?” Almost out of nowhere, Dan had appeared. “Looks like you need to jump the queue – this should do the trick!” Dan held what appeared, at first glance, to be an electric toothbrush with a shiny, spinning crystal device attached. Shy and Luke stared in shock as the Bear slipped behind the bar and began pouring out 4 glasses of Champagne. “Seems a fella has to get his own drinks around this place… Bubbly for everyone is it? As it is very nearly my birthday!”

“God! Where did you get that thing?” Ant seemed to have grown bored by his drink and more intent on getting the device off Dan. “Not that mail order place again, surely? Oh boy! It’s amazing! Dan!?”

“I made it!” he lied. “I conjured it up out of nowhere! Well, that’s not 100% true! OK, I borrowed it! Listen, I know you’re keen to know where it came from, but I’d have to fluff up your fur if I told you!! Anyway, it must go back tomorrow! I stumbled on it by accident! I’ll get into all sorts of trouble!”

“What is it?” asked Shy coldly, “I mean it looks like a toothbrush but it appears to be diverting Time!”

“…And does a good job too!” laughed Dan. “You’ll note that we’re surrounded by a forcefield which allows us complete freedom – whilst everyone else is suspended. Works in limited areas – such as this building – for a short time. Pretty soon the effects will wear off and Time shall return to normal – but at least we got served, now! See! Something even cleverer than Yeti Magic, Shy – and I even intend to pay for these!” he added snidely, referring to Shy’s recent, occasionally dishonest use of his powers. “Hurray up Yeti… You’re free to run amongst the crowds until Time begins again – I’m sure you could swipe a few wallets if you’re really intent on becoming some sort of furry dandy highwayman!”

Shy was alarmed, in fact Shy was VERY alarmed and turned to Luke. “Keep an eye on those two jokers and try and stop them using that thing again will you, please! I’ll be back posthaste, I promise!”

Luke didn’t even get a chance to reply – but it was becoming obvious to Shy, that if Dan was playing around with toys like that, then Basher’s warning was rapidly going to come true. Sure enough, Time was beginning to speed up as he slipped in and out of realities – catching glimpses and snatches of movement and sound. Shy headed down the stairs from the Easy Listening bar and out through the nearest Fire Exit. Behind him things were almost flowing like normal, but out in the road – out there on the street, there was devastation. Devastation where normal real time events had run headlong into a brick wall! Outside Time had tried to pass through the barrier and then bounced back in on itself…
Around the SCALA club ran an enormous wall of flame and a pile up of vehicles, from where a bus had caught between the two realities. Shy could make out the body of a clubber twisted in agony – half in, half out – held like a man drowning in quicksand, despite his friend’s attempts to pull him from the flames. Time was taking it’s time out here and wasn’t returning in any hurry.

There on the SCALA roof – paint brush in mouth, sat Basher… No Spitballs this time – for it seemed that he’d now mastered the art of graffiti. NICE DAY FOR OBLIVION; he’d spelt out in large letters. All around Time began to run normally again suddenly, as the first light of dawn sparked into life.

Basher’s warning was already becoming a living truth…

WHATEVER NEXT??? AS THE BIRTHDAY BEAR'S BIRTHDAY GETS CLOSER - HOW CAN SHY YETI AND LUKE FIND A WAY OF STOPPING EVENTS GETTING OUT OF CONTROL... FIND OUT NEXT FRIDAY!!!

THE TALE OF THE BIRTHDAY BEAR - PART 3

Shy called Danbear several times after opening the messages - but it took a while to get in contact. Phones and emails couldn’t raise him and neither did turning up at his flat. There was only one other way that he knew of – and so Shy sent Dan a telepathic message.

Closing his eyes in concentration he attempted contact. “I'm sure you're very busy, but if you could give me a bell A.S.A.P. that’d be cool, Dan! I've got my old mobile back - same number - call me!”

Telepathy could be quite exhausting, especially sending messages to folk who had no natural psychic ability. After he was done, Shy went and sat in the sun in Green Park and sure enough - within ten minutes Dan was ringing his mobile. “What the in Hells name did you do to me?” he grumbled. “I was in the middle of a nice Damson pie and custard when you struck – you made me bump my head hard!”

Shy smiled broadly as he pictured it. “Eating pies under your desk again were you, hey Danny boy?”

Dan sounded flustered. “Yes... Well, maybe I was! But you could have warned me, Yeti!!”

“I emailed you! Phoned you! Texted and left a message with Alan - if you can't call me after all that...”

“I was BUSY!!!” Dan insisted.

“More pies?”

Silence for a second. “Maybe... Infact, actually, no - I was interviewing for new assistants at work!”

“Ok! The criteria being that they bought in a nice pie with them, right?” Silence. “Tell me I'm wrong!”

“You're not wrong! We had 100 people to interview... Eating all those pies before they go off has been a full time job, I'll have you know! Anyway - I'm cross with you about other things too...”

“Such as, what?”

“Like you being so stupid and stubborn about you plans for gallavantingness! Are you still set on it?”

“Am too!” confirmed Shy bluntly. "…And proud to announce so! Unfortunately, for you, I'm sticking about for your birthday to buy you ciders, before working out where I want to begin my adventures!”

“You're insane, Yeti! Totally doolally!!” chided Danbear. “Oh - do whatever you like! It’s just – well – I’ll bloody miss you not being here to chew pies with! Oh - and just promise me you won’t contact me by telepathy again - it scares me - sends my fur up on end you know! I'll have to go see Dr Nephur to have it straightened again now, you know... Careful, I don’t send you the flippin’ bill…"

“Please do!” agreed Shy, surprised how upset his pal seemed. “That’s fair enough... Just get back to me sooner next time, can't you? I don't like being ignored! Just wanted to know something really, that's all! Your birthday is when? This sunday? What are your weekend plans - was it drinks and Popstarz for a dance tomorrow night and then... what about saturday - what were you doing then?”

“Dinner! Didn't you get an invite?”

Shy thought about it - he couldn't remember. “I probably lost it when I was evicted! Dinner where though? At a restaurant or at someone’s house?”

“Someone’s house! Who’s the best cook in town? Other than my good self, of course…”

“Crap... Really!?! You mean dear old Speccy Ant, don’t you?!”

“Of course! Why? What's up? If I remember correctly, you usually sit and drool over his casseroles!”

“Not literally!” interrupted Shy, “Well – not deliberately, anyway! You know I love his cooking! I love BOTH your cooking – it’s not that! It’s just, I got a message - that's all! End of the world sort of thing! Won't worry you about it now - I'll go and try and speak with Ant himself – see what he says...”

“End of what? Look, you shouldn’t interfere! It won’t happen like that! Yeti?" but Shy had hungup.

*
It was quite late by the time Shy arrived at Ant’s flat. Anthony Spex, known to his friends as Speccy Ant was an expert in pretty much everything, advising those who sought his wisdom. Ant and Shy had been flatmates but Shy had moved out, soon after Anthony had begun working from home.

There was something about the “Speccy Ant” that always gave Shy a sort of nice, yet nervous shiver, “I don't know what it is - but I think I love how clever he is – I feel so stupid compared to him... It makes my fur wilt just thinking of all those bookshelves and I have to go and have a cold shower...”

Shy had called Ant and asked if it was okay to pop around that evening and been told that if he came he should bring with him a fresh tea towel. “Something patterned - I've worn out my last one...” So,
Shy had done just that. “Hi! Come right up!” Ant called, once he’d heard the intercom chime to Flat 3.

The door clicked and Shy passed on through and up the stairs to where Anthony was already waiting. An academic looking man he was 6ft tall, yet stocky, quirkily handsome with intelligent dark eyes and a cynical smile. He usually dressed quite casually, but today he looked the smartest that Shy had ever seen him - in a tux and (rather bizarrely) a pinney. “Why are you wearing that for goodness sakes...”

“Everything's at the wash - the murderers upstairs were trying to drown one another and they ended up flooding their flat and it all came in through the ceiling and spoilt everything... Awful!” Shy winced.

It was however true that Ant lived in a flat below two murderers. One of them had been a cereal killer - occasionally massacring fields of barley and the other had gone down for killing time with a pick axe. They'd both done their allotted month or two inside but their reputation remained and they were still known in the area as “Those two murderers...” It was quite fortunate - though maybe not for the couple - that they were known by such clear nicknames, which sort of detailed their wrong doings for all to see. At least it meant that the public could either associate with them or not, in full awareness of their crimes and there weren't any secrets hidden in closets - or bodies. Well, hopefully no bodies...

“I was cooking!” explained Ant as they stepped over piles and piles of new, as yet unread volumes, heading for the kitchen, “Cooking up a feast for Daniel Bear's birthday! Did you bring the tea towel?”

“I did!” confirmed Shy, removing his coat. “It was a freebie when they closed the Millennium Dome!”

“I suppose it will have to do!” To Shy's surprise Ant tied the tea towel around his head, until he looked a bit like grandad on the beach, only with a bigger, more colourful knotted handkerchief. “My brain gets very hot when I'm thinking and it's even worse when I'm cooking things...” he exclaimed and Shy nodded understandingly. “What's up then Yeti? You seem different - almost a cynical as me, today!”

“I got concussion! Ever since I’ve been seeing things rather more clearly – I’ve got ideas to explore!”

“Sounds like a bunch of old Hippie waffle to me...”

“Let me do what I do best… I’ll talk it and you can cook it...”

“Fair play to you… So why are you here?” Ant checked on something he'd got in the oven. "I'm really busy you know - there's lots to be done! I'm preparing all the food in advance, before we go clubbing!”
This was the night out arranged at the club, Popstarz for a spot of leisurely pawshuffling, “If I’m going there…” he continued. “I may well wake up on the day of the birthday meal with an awful hangover and wouldn’t feel up to cooking! You can see the sense, surely? Look - what is it you want, exactly?”

Shy looked a tad awkward. “Well... I don't know how to tell you this under the circumstances, but well - is there any chance you can cancel the party – or just postpone it - have it on Sunday or something?”

“Quite definitely NOT! It's all arranged! Why do you want this! Can't you make it now or something?”

“No, no! Not at all... It's just I received a message - it was very brief but mentioned your name, happy birthday and world ends Saturday! I just thought - well - that doesn't exactly bode well for your meal!”

Ant frowned, looking up from stirring cake mixture. “Do you mean you received some kind of threat? A poison pen letter?” Shy muttered uncertainly. “Well, what then? Where did the message come from, exactly? If it was a phonecall we should probably inform the Police! Where did it come from, Yeti?”

Shy winced again, loathe to explain but knowing he had no choice. “Well – actually… my cat sicked it up! Before you say anything though – and I know you and Basher don't really get on - but he wrote it down after having a vision! It’s all he’ll say! I did try for more, but he's vanished off somewhere!”

Ant didn’t even smile. “Okay! Very funny! Time for you to go now I think...”

“I know it sounds ludicrous - but it's the message he wanted you to have...”

“What's he going to do? Scratch my eyes out himself? Force feed me cat nip? Meow me to death?”

“Of course not! This isn’t a laughing matter! Just listen! I just don't want anything to happen to you...”

“Then be here on Saturday and make sure nothing does! Best thing you can do! Now get OUT!”

“OKAY! OKAY!” Shy sighed and struggled back into his coat, “Can I use your loo first, please...”

“No!” Shy was a tad shocked that his requirement to pee was being denied. “Really Shy! No, I'm sorry you can't! It's a mess, being redecorated, not properly plumbed in at the moment! Here - use a bottle!”

Shy stood open-mouthed, suddenly taking a wee felt less necessary, "Maybe I'll wait! See you then!"

Ant hmmphed a bit yet said nothing and so Shy fumbled out of the kitchen, through the book filled living room and beyond. Pausing in the hallway he rattled the door to the bathroom, but it was locked – in fact it wasn't only locked but it was padlocked. There was no keyhole so he wasn't going to get to peek through that way. Pressing his ear to the door though he was sure he could hear movement inside the room - and a strange sort of casseroley smell filled the air. Once again, something moved inside the room – squelched and sploshed to be accurate. Was somebody in the bath? Had Anthony some secret bather hidden within? For a minute the thought made Shy smile - until he recalled the padlock. No-one would invite a guest over and let them use the bathroom, only to padlock them in the room.

“Have you gone yet, Shy? I mean gone as in left – not as in gone in the bottle…”

“I'm departing immediately, bye!” he cried, not wishing to stay a moment longer and with that hurried towards the front door, not looking back until he was half way down the road beyond Brixton Station.

Back in the bathroom - something sinister yawned…

What will happen next? Can Shy and Luke persuade their friends that something very nasty is going to happen very soon - or are those friends already in too deep to avoid the trouble? Find out next week - Friday 26th August...

THE TALE OF THE BIRTHDAY BEAR - PART 2

It was then Shy realised that there was more than one visitor. The heavy footfalls came closer, sure enough. But there was something else. Lighter movement, the rustle of a newspaper...
The light mew of a cat… Shy grinned in relief, “Is that you Calmeister? Basher?”

It was nothing to be worried about, after all.

Out of the darkness emerged a tall dark-haired man, somewhat over 6ft, in jeans and smart t-shirt bearing the words SHOTS across the front of it. This was Cal - Shy's once flatmate who now ran a sweet shop for Trolls on Charing Cross Road. His much smaller mewing companion, was their mutual friend Basher Deeley - who was himself - a small grey and white striped cat. Out of the two of them Basher was the most talkative. Calum was busily buried in the Racing Times.

“MEEEEEOW!” mewed Basher indignantly.

“Well you could have let me known it was you!” smiled Shy. “I wasn't sure who it was. I thought you might have been someone intent on jumping me!!”

“MEEEEEEEOOOOOOW!!!!”

“Yeah - well no such luck - and don't be so cheeky!”

Shy had known Basher long enough to know exactly what he meant. He had known the boy since he was a kitten. Basher was the son of Juanita, who in turn lived with another of Shy's friends. Many a time had Shy fallen asleep only to awake several hours later to find himself covered in Little Kitten Deeley spit. Kitten Deeley (or Basher as he'd become known as he grew) had been intensely affectionate, yet occasionally psychotic as a youngster. Having initially taken to adopting Shy's four foot white cuddly teddy bear (a gift from a former admirer in the Midlands) as his mother, he soon decided that Shy was much furrier and that he also required to be Kitten-washed at least twice weekly.

“Meister! What's all this creeping about going on here? It's late! I mean, how did you even find me?”

Cal looked up from his paper, “Cat dude here sniffed you out. You living here now or something?”

It all made sense. Basher always did have an acute sense of smell. “Yes, for the moment!” he confirmed. “I'm going travelling soon. I'm just getting my new life together, right now..."

“There's always room in the Dude's basket - he never uses it now… He prefers a bed of rare Atlantean coral or failing that a few big sticks of rock! You can always come stay at the sweet shop, you know!”

“No ta. I'm fine thanks, Meister!” He was still a little bit miffed about being crept up on and, going back further, how Basher had taken to living with the Meister rather than him. Some cats just couldn't tell a “Cat person” when they sniffed one. As if reading his mind, something that was actually entirely possible, Basher dodged affectionately around his legs. “So are you two here for a reason?” As if in answer Basher gave a short and slightly effeminate mew and began coughing and retching right inront of Shy's brand new note pad. “Not there, Master Deeley!" exclaimed Shy. “Basher please! I'm trying to compose some new verse!”

But Basher didn't appear to have heard and continued to retch. "Cough up Cat dude!" encouraged Cal.
“Don't tell him that!” exclaimed Shy. “Are you not combing the poor little man? He's got hairballs or grass or something stuck in his throat!!”

“Not so, Yeti! The Cat dude has a message for you, which he wrote out on a piece of paper and then swallowed. He's now regurgitating it for your pleasure and attention!!”

Shy winced, “Oh that's truly horrid. Have you been teaching him bad habits?” To be fair, Basher Deeley had always done this - yet not quite as constructively. Usually he chewed up Shy's shopping lists before they even reached the supermarket. The whole writing messages thing was new, though. He'd have paid to see Basher grip a pen and write out his message - that would be something worth seeing. “Why on earth does he have to chew up the message before I read it? I mean - if it was written up first - that's just gross!!”

“Very important message, dude!” Calum assured him. “Wanted to make sure no-one apprehended the message on the way over here!”

Bizarrely, his excuse actually almost made sense.

Taking a quick peek, Shy noticed that Basher was nearly done retching and that so far he had sicked up a few balls of what looked like papier mache. “Oh charming!” sighed Shy. “And how am I going to read those then?”

“Leave them out to dry, dude...”

“THANK YOU VERY MUCH!!!”

By now Basher looked cold and appeared to have ceased barfing. “MEWWWWWWW!” he squeaked.

“Looks like rain does it? Oh get out of here the both of you!” Basher gave him another disparaging mew. “Don’t try that with me!” snapped Shy. “How dare you, sir...”

But none of this is getting our story anywhere. Basher and the Calmeister were soon on their way and yes - soon enough - it did begin to rain!

Now it wasn't exactly soaking wet in the pavillion, but Shy didn't sleep so well and was glad to finally have the opportunity to get up and out of the park, next morning – to join the commuters – and more importantly – those in search of breakfast! For it was breakfast that was on his mind as he reached the door of the Belgravian Kitchen. “Bacon baguettes!” he mumbled, though he had no money.

“YETI!!!” Shy spun around guiltily, as if caught in the actual act of diddling the waiter of payment. “I've been looking for you! What's been going on?”

“Luke!! How are you doing, cub?”

Luke was a friend from work. Or at least they didn’t work together – but geographically their offices were close and they often shared lunch together. He’d totally forgotten to keep his friend updated on all the recent events, as he’d been away on holiday – but Luke had obviously heard all.

“I feel left out!” sighed Luke, a trifle crossly. “I mean, I go away and what happens whilst I'm gone! You're evicted AND you lose your job!” Luke had found them a table and they sat waiting to be served. “I know I'm going to be late in - but I don't really care!” he continued, admiring his new hairdo, fur sleekly shaved in quite the ultra-modern style. “Do you like it?”

“It’s quite…” but Shy never got a chance to finish – Luke had other things to say.

“Ask me how Amsterdam was, Yeti! You always thinking about yourself - you're dreadful, man!”

Luke was right though, he'd not even thought to ask. “Sorry - err - so how was it? Tulip-y?”

“Good! Dull! No - it was fun - but I was somehow expecting more! Hey! I've got something for you, Yeti!” he said as if suddenly remembering. “It’s not from Amsterdam, but from round here, something you thought you'd lost! Don't say I don't do anything for you! Hey and I've heard all about your little adventures - I've been speaking with Dan! What on EARTH do you think you're up to!?”

Shy tried to avoid Luke's stern gaze. Sometimes the cub's questing blue eyes seemed to have almost the same effect on him as his own eyes had on passing shop keepers, security guards and barmen. “I'm just going through a spot of... trouble, cub... I'm chucking it all in - going on a little adventure! Next week, probably! After Dan's birthday. I've got a few matters to sort out with my cat before I go but...”

Luke showed his disapproval by changing the subject suddenly; “Ask me what I've brought you!” he said suddenly. “You're going to love it! Honestly!”

“What have you... ?” Initially not that interested, Shy trailed off as he finally caught sight of the clear plastic freezerbag that Luke had with him. "Pies..."

“YES!!” grinned Luke. “But not just any old pies!”

“I don't believe it - how can they be? They're - they're...”

“Your pies, Mr! Or what I could get hold of - might be able to get hold of the others if you're good!”

“Oh Cub!” Shy was eagerly examining the pies through the bag - pies from all over the world, neatly wrapped in multicoloured newspaper. “How on earth did you get them back from the bailiffs!?”

“Can't say!” smirked Luke. “Top secret - I'd have to muss up your fur if I told you! Needless to say it wasn't entirely an unpleasant experience - there are some dead nice lads in that unit...”

Shy grinned and gave Luke a big hug. “I should have known! Well, thank you - SO much! Trouble is I don't have anywhere to put them, they were in cold storage - they'll go off!”

“Which is why I have them in this bag for you - I'll get them into the freezer at work and padlock it down. Nobody's going to get their gums around any of your pies, if I can help it! Not even me!!”

“Fantastic!!! Most won’t have ripened yet!” Shy explained. “Like wine - takes years to mature...”

By now their mugs of coffee and bacon baguettes had arrived. “So what's this little adventure - this problem you were going on about before?” Shy had almost totally forgotten about it in all the excitement, but explained the whole visitation last night in the park from Cal and Basher. “So, these messages, have they dried out? Have you been able to read them yet?” They had nearly been dry this morning, but in the hurry for breakfast he'd not yet examined them. “Prise them open then!”

“What here?”
“Where else, silly! I've got to get to work and freeze your pies! Of course here. Open them up!!”

There were seven “spitballs” in all. Now dry and almost solid - but by tackling them with a tooth pick they managed to open each paper ball and flatten them out. Each piece of paper had a word on it...

“What do you make of that then?” asked Luke, looking confused.

Shy sat and stared, muddling the words into a possible order until they read as follows: SPECCY, WORLD ENDS THIS SATURDAY, HAPPY BIRTHDAY...

“You know...” admitted Shy meekly, “I don't like the look of this one little bit!!!”

THE TALE OF THE BIRTHDAY BEAR - PART 1

It was an ordinary Wednesday in late May, when Shy Yeti began his new life.

“I don't believe in possessions!” he declared as he picked himself up from the pavement and dusted down his fur with an unusually confident air about him. “I don't require to own anything - I have chosen to dispense with all belongings!”

This wasn't strictly true. It wasn't as if he'd had any choice in the matter, having been evicted from his flat and what with the bailiffs having taken away his prize pie collection to pawn off his debts.

“I don't care to work a 9-to-5 routine!” he continued.

This, one might comment, was pretty convenient in the circumstances. Lucky - because he'd been fired just that very morning for general laziness and repeatedly getting pie crust embedded in his keyboard. That and drool.

“I don't need to be tied down by love and relationships! I'm not someone who requires that sort of old-fashioned setup! I get all I need from life! Honestly, I find close human bonds only lead to upset!"

Also, it wasn't the sort of thing his friends were used to hearing. However, it was fortunate, for it seemed nobody wanted him and he snored too much for anyone to ever want him to share their bed...

“It's not snoring!! It's a special type of Yeti morse code...” he'd been heard to claim once.

This, of course, was clearly just a lie. A pile of complete bollocks, to be blunt.

“I am but a wandering minstrel!” he’d recently told Megan, his favourite pigeon, as he sat sunning himself in Trafalgar Square. “I shall make my living by travelling and using my talents...”

But Megan hadn't stopped for a lecture, in fact she’d rudely left a brown runny poo and then flown off.

However it wasn't all pie in the sky! This talent business wasn't just more of Shy's uncharacteristic gung-ho banter of late. For it was true, Shy did have some talents - he was pretty ok when it came to writing and had even published poetry books. Infact it was partly because he'd bought everyone drinks at the launch party for his POETIQUETTE collection of poems that he was now so low on funds.

“I don't need money!” he had also been overheard saying.

Actually this was also true. In theory.

For Shy had another talent. The power of persuasion that only a Yeti knows. This talent sort of came with being a Yeti, but it was one he'd never tapped into until now. Shy wasn't especially proud of his Yeti ancestry and had always sort of prided himself on being a shy, fluffy, friendly sort of Yeti. No need for any growling or use of force to get what one needed. But now times had changed. Now, perhaps, was the time to use the talents he'd been born with. Only in a nice way! If possible…

“Are you SURE you didn't bang your head, Shy?” enquired his friend Danbear when he explained his plan. “It's just that you're really different all of a sudden - you're quite out of character! I know you’re mad most of the time - but this just about takes the pie filling! Here, let me examine you for bruises!”

“Hands off, furryface!” snapped Shy. It was true enough - his head had rather hit the pavement when he'd been evicted. But - well - he didn't like to think too much about it, right now.

“Ok! Alright!” sighed Dan, “But just tell me! What in the name of Brian Blessed are you playing at?”

Danbear was a 7ft-tall behemoth of a bear who liked to wear armour and a Viking helmet. He lived and worked down the road from Shy and often helped advise him on his poetry. On hearing the news that Shy had lost his job and the madness that was his new plan of action, Dan had picked Shy up by the scruff of the fur and taken him over to The Stag near Victoria Station to give him a good talking to. “What's come over you, Yeti? You can't just go gallivanting around the city doing as you please - you need to find yourself a new job and somewhere to live. If Alanbear and I can help in any way, then we'll be glad to!”

Shy gave Dan a rather hard stare sensing his new regime simply wasn't being taken seriously enough. “Dan...” he began, “I don't want to be singled out for any special treatment. This is my opportunity to try again, start things from scratch. I want to explore my ancestral powers of persuasion!!”

“Your what?”

“You'll see!” sighed Shy. “I'm going to use all these new experiences to write my new book of verse!”

Danbear was shaking his head. “You have no set plan at all, do you, except for gallivanting!?!”

Shy smiled, it was well known that this was one of Dan's favourite words. Indeed, he'd once written a poem where the word appeared 17 times in two verses, just to keep his friend happy. “I have a hidden power Danbear, one that I've never spoken of before! I don't need a house or money or love or nuffin' - not even Girls Aloud, Belle and Sebastian or obscure Le Tigre cds!!”

"Or pies?"

"Neither shall I require pies! Pies have only ever bought me unhappiness..."

Danbear gave a noticeable gasp - this was fighting talk sure enough. All the same, Dan persisted, “You have concussion, Yeti! I think your brain's gone soft! I think you've eaten one too many treacle pudding! It's gone to your head! Wandering around like that - you'll be kidnapped and sold to the fur traders before you know it! I can't bear to see that happen to you - it repulses me!!!”

“I'll be FINE!!” Shy exclaimed. “I shall be there this Friday for your birthday drinks and I shall show you exactly how my powers of persuasion are doing! Drinks are on me...” With that Shy hopped from his bar stool and made a rather dramatic exit with a flourish of his fur and flick of the neck, before realising that the door he'd exited through was actually the ladies toilets. "You mark my words bear!!!" he added as he passed Dan once again (en route for the correct exit this time).

Dan sat and regarded his cider, sadly. How on earth was Shy going to be handing out free drinks when he was now effectively homeless and penniless? It just didn't make sense. But what could he do?

**

Meanwhile, outside it had grown dark and Shy was heading back towards Belgravia, where he had once worked. He had somewhere in mind to stay for the night - somewhere he should be relatively undisturbed, he figured.

"Before I go..." he'd said to the security guard just before he’d been flung out on his furry arse, "I wonder if you'd just hand me over the keys to the private garden in the square..."

The security guard had paused from being all burly, masterful and gorgeous and had looked back at Shy with a smile. It was then that knew his powers - those ancestral powers of persuasion which he'd never bothered to use - really worked. Shy's eyes had almost seemed to be casting a sort of spooky glow over the guard, who had suddenly handed him the keys without another word.
A little bit shocked by his own powers, Shy tried again and wondered if the guard was up for a night out on the town. “Have you got anything chocolatey I could have whilst I'm at it?” he asked instead.

Almost zombie-like the security guard routed around in his desk draw and produced a Kitkat, which he'd handed to Shy.

"I'll just take a half of it..." he'd said and given two fingers back.

Not literally. Well - not until he was kicked out of the building some minutes later, anyway.

So now Shy made his way into the park, using the keys that only residents of the square held. Of course, at this time of night no-one was about and the fence too high for even the drunkenest reveller to scale (unless they happened to be carrying a ladder, a pair of stilts or had a giraffe in their party - or some combination of the three.) So Shy felt safe. He felt a trifle smug too. “I'm coping admirably!” he said to himself. “I'm sleeping rough in central London and I'm doing it in style!!”

Needless to say, it wasn't in fact much of a test to his spirits as the night was clear and warm. It was almost the summer and, anyway, Shy had enough fur to keep him cosy. Whistling something cheerful by Morrissey, Shy ambled towards the pavilion. Once there he fumbled amongst his fur for a rucksack he'd acquired earlier - which contained a few fluffy pillows, a notepad and pen for poetry writing (apprehended from Harrods once he'd continued to practice his new talent - feeling all very Robin Hood about it...) and a candle and box of matches (which he'd picked up at the Ritz just before meeting Danbear.)

Lying back to enjoy the candle light in the pavilion, Shy smiled to himself and began to compose a poem. “I wonder what sort of verse Danbear would like for his birthday?” he wondered, “Something light and cheery or something morbid and depressing?" It was a toss-up; Dan seemed to like it either way. He'd definitely throw in a couple of long words just to make sure his friend was pleased.

Shy was becoming rather keen on his new talent! Afterall, it was the usual Yeti way - get what you want with a little bit of menace, something that he'd not liked to try until now - perhaps rather foolishly, he mulled. For too long he'd let people get the better of him - not any more!! Dan had certainly noticed. But so what? What matter that Shy wasn't his old self, that something had changed him. It was for the better overall. It wasn't just the loveless, jobless, homeless situation that had spurred him on though - but something else, something he couldn't exactly pinpoint.

“You're having a midlife fur crisis!” he told himself. “Just run with it - let it take you somewhere strange!”

Shy paused, his pen fumbling to find a theme for Danbear's birthday verse...

He had company.

Usually in the dark, Shy had extra-special Yeti eyesight. Even so, he couldn't see who it was that had joined him in the garden. He just heard the sound of someone moving close by.

He was about to cry out, ask who it was - but something made him stop... What if it was... him?

He wasn't sure whom exactly he meant - not consciously anyway - but something kept him silent all the same.

Now he could hear footsteps on the garden path - only moments from where he sat - and they were coming his way...

Who is the mysterious stranger? What surprises does Shy Yeti's new life hold in store and what happens when a birthday bear threatens to cause big mischief...

FIND OUT NEXT FRIDAY, 13TH AUGUST 2005 - SAME TIME - SAME PLACE...

SHY YETI IS COPYRIGHT PAUL CHANDLER/BEECHES BOOKS 2005.

A MESSAGE FROM SHY YETI

PLEASE NOTE: THE FIRST CHAPTER OF SHY YETI AND THE TALE OF THE BIRTHDAY BEAR WILL BE PUBLISHED HERE LATER TODAY AND THEN EVERY FRIDAY FOR THE NEXT SIX WEEKS...


A MESSAGE FROM SHY YETI…

Dearest Readers,

Welcome to our Universe.

It is a Universe of Yeti - of fur and growls and all sorts of mad stuff like that. This is the first tale concerning myself, Shy Yeti, and my peculiar friends and colleagues. Previously I was P.A. to the once legendary Simon Yeti - an acting Yeti of the highest degree - who sadly became lost in a time machine in late 2003. I have also been a poet of some small acclaim and recently I lost my home, job and relationship and received a concussion to my small, furry bonce. It was this knock to my ego that made me decide to try something new. In the last few months, I have been on some incredible adventures and this is the first of six that I intend to write about over the next few months.

The first of these adventures, THE TALE OF THE BIRTHDAY BEAR, involves a gang of curious gentleman who I am occasionally associated with down here in London Town. The birthday bear that the story concerns is my script-editor and friend Mr Dan Bear Esq. (although I may have offended him of late by referring to his partner as a "a bit of a scallywag") This tale also involves my friend Calmeister and my one time feline friend, Basher. My bear cub in crime, Mr Luke, and the renowned chef and intellectual Professor Anthony Spex (known to most as Speccy Ant) There are also a few other eccentric types that appear in this tale - but I shouldn't give away too much.

I do hope you enjoy all this tomfoolery! This one’s for Dan, Luke and most of all it’s for Anthony Allen - Speccy Ant, who makes the best sausage casserole ever. More later…

Best wishes and kindest regards,

Shy Yeti xx

PS Thankyou to Mr Nick Ashwell for his help script-editing my scrawl this time.

COMING SOON

COMING VERY SOON...

TALES OF A SHY YETI

STORY ONE: SHY YETI AND THE TALE OF THE BIRTHDAY BEAR.

PART ONE.

MORE DETAILS TOMORROW.