THE TALE OF THE TENBY SAUSAGE - PART 2

Despite the near mutinous stares, it wasn’t long before the Waiter returned carrying Shy’s order. This seemed to require about 7 plates and an additional 2 staff members to bring it to the table. “I trust you will enjoy your meal, Sir…” the Waiter was either bowing or collapsing due to the weight of the tray.

Shy soon realised that there was something not quite right about his sausages. It wasn’t that they were cold, badly cooked or poorly presented, but they most certainly weren’t the same delicious flavour that he’d eaten at Anthony’s ruined flat. “Maybe it’s one of the others, Sir…” the Waiter suggested, when Shy pointed this out. “We gave you one of each! You just finished the Vole and Toffee flavour and the next is Seahorse and Cornflake. I believe you’ve already polished off the Hedgehog and red pepper!”

The sound of such peculiar varieties really rather repulsed Shy. He was usually just a common or garden greedy guts and not especially discerning – however what he’d been eating did sound, if not taste, quite disgusting. Soon, he was done – and was most disappointed to discover that none of the sausages on his plate were the variety he’d been looking for. “You see…” he explained to the Waiter when he came to collect the plates. “I was particularly seeking the Tenby Sausage on this wrapper…”

“Well, I’m sorry Sir - we didn’t have that particular brand! These are our own recipes and as far as we are aware only our restaurant serves any authentic sausage meat dish made here in this town! Those which you have detail of must therefore be inferior… Sorry to have to break it to you, so harshly….”

“Don’t apologise. It would appear that you’re right! Is this the first you’ve heard of a rival?” The waiter shrugged, which Shy took to mean Yes! “Well, I’m here to investigate! I’ll keep you posted!”

The Waiter seemed keen enough about the idea and Shy could see the Chef peering with great interest around the kitchen door. “If you do that then we might even give you a free dinner…” he called out.

“Very well.” agreed Shy. “Done… And may I add – these sausages are much nicer than your rival’s!”
This was a lie – but as Shy knew, it never hurts to butter up anyone who is offering you free food.

“Thank you!” bowed the waiter, “This is quite some mystery isn’t it, Sir?” he took another look at the wrapper. “I’ll bet they don’t have Sea-snail and Brie sausages in their range – that’s our speciality!”

“I don’t imagine for a minute that they do!” agreed Shy, “I’ll pick up where I left off - tomorrow…” he announced and with that ordered a large Black Forest Gateau to himself and settled down with a liquor coffee and a head full of complications. He’d soon sort matters out. That A YETI’S speciality…

*
Shy slept well that first night in Tenby. He had sat up late eating chocolate-coated Welsh cakes and drinking extra strong cocoa, which he’d brought with him from London and there’d been a rather intriguing documentary on television about a famous author who had been murdered by a pack of Badgers. Following that, he’d watched an old film, rather obscurely titled Watch Out, Scaredy Cat!! This was all about sinister kittens on the loose in Dublin during the Potato Famine, which had, quite genuinely, left Shy shaking under the duvet for at least 20 minutes before he’d fallen asleep. He had slept eventually and very well too – almost missing breakfast! Needless to say, he made it down in time – still in his pyjamas, fur net and bunny slippers – but thankfully everyone else had also slept late and were dressed just the same. Neither guests, nor the room where they all ate are worth describing – the food was good – all the usual – including sausages – just not the right sort… Tasty though…

Soon after breakfast, Shy set back out along the front, beyond the harbour, passed the old castle ruins and The Dennis Teashop onto South beach where the boats came to collect tourists for day trips to Caldey Island and for Seal watching. There in the bay, stood St. Catherine’s, a large rock just off the beach with a fort on top, which was supposedly inaccessible to the public, although someone appeared to be camping up there, just at the moment. Wandering along the shore, Shy even allowed himself to paddle and was almost having fun, until his paws began to sink and he nearly tripped over his own wet fur in the process. “Careful Yeti…” he scolded himself, embarrassed that he might have been seen or overheard. “Hey – watch it!” he spluttered, almost forgetting his paws and falling over again.

A minute or so later, the Church clock struck eleven and Shy took himself across to the nearest beach café and ordered tea and a great slab of fruit cake – making notes in his poetry book that this particular establishment did not “…sell sausages of any kind…” On his way out, Shy got himself a double scoop of Avacado and Prune ice cream and was just heading up from the beach by the golf course to walk along the headland, when to his shock there came a squawking noise and a seagull the size of a small lamb dived down to grab his ice cream and the shock of the attack caused him to drop the empty cone.

“You… YOU!!!!” he could not think of an appropriate insult, but by now the gull was gone…

“BULLSEYE!!”

“Pardon?” Shy had hoped he’d not been seen, but sadly this wasn’t the case and he’d been viewed through binoculars, by a figure up on the headland. Shy certainly wasn’t in the mood for conversation, however he recognised the speaker and decided to remain civil. “Well, it’s not especially gentlemanly to steal an innocent Yeti’s ice cream! What’s more it’s hardly cricket to cheer the seagull on, sir!”

“Well, I’m neither a gentleman, nor a cricket player – so I can’t say I know…” replied the furry voyeur. “Never mind ey? I have acres of doughnuts and a large pool of Pimms up here in the tent… No need for introductions – for you are Shy Yeti, former mentor of the late Simon Yeti. I, myself am Cary McFur – you’ll recall me from the train yesterday! You were trying to pretend to be asleep and I was trying to con a young cub into buying tickets for a music festival, which I’m yet to set a date for!”

The fellow’s confidence made Shy grin. “How remarkably honest of you, Mr McFur… So HOW is the festival going? Have you staged any miracle reunions with any long since deceased bands, lately?”

It was Cary’s turn to smile, as he lent out a paw to help Shy up the embankment, holding it rather longer than is normal in polite circles. “Your hearing isn’t the only acute thing about you, Yeti…” he replied and winked rather cheesily. Shy found himself blushing beneath his fur, but said nothing. “The festival is ticking along nicely thank you kindly…” Cary waved his binoculars about – nearly choking himself. “I’m still scouting out a definite location, but this one’s looking good! Nice wide open space – close to the beach and room to expand onto the golf course if needs be! Just don’t tell those damned golfers will you – they don’t half have a poorly developed sense of humour about things like that…”

“Is it totally ethical to be trying to sell tickets to folk when you don’t even have a site or a lineup?”

“No – not entirely! But a fella needs a bit of money upfront before he arranges something like this… It makes good business sense! I’m not intending to rip anybody off – I just need a bit of sponsorship!”
“Perhaps you ought to explain that to people, then! You told that cub on the train, all sorts of stories to get his interest – not that it worked! But if you need folk to invest, then you should just tell them so!”

Cary McFur snorted. “Oh come on! Don’t be so dull and boring! Don’t tell me my business – we’re all grown ups! The festival begins when it’s ready! The cub was smart – he didn’t take the bait – anyone who does deserves to be ripped off! A guy’s gotta try. And before you mention my lack of stars – I have all their numbers – I “obtained” a little black book on Ebay – all I have to do is call! See!?!”

“Oh! I’m so glad to hear you’re maintaining your above-board methods in arranging the whole event!”

Cary raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. “When I’m done I will have big names from the world of music, art, film, literature – you name it! Even one of my favourite poets! Shy Yeti, are you up for it?”

“That’s unfair…” protested Shy. “Now you’ve pandering to my creative side… You might as well just have gone and tickled me under the chin!” Cary looked like he wouldn’t have minded trying it either. It was true though – Shy’s work didn’t have a huge following and he hadn’t expected Cary to know anything about it! He was flattered and yet also a tad concerned to find that his writing had attracted such a dodgy wheeler-dealer as Cary McFur. “You may persuade me to read something – perhaps!”

“Sticking around here for a while, are you, Yeti Bit of a working holiday? Research for some new masterpiece, maybe? I promise to set a date in the very near future, if you promise you’ll perform for me!” McFur smiled again and then waved absentmindedly towards the campsite as he wandered back towards the headland to take another look through his binoculars. “Help yourself to a can of beer or whatever you fancy…” he said. “If you want to take a swim, you’ll find a spare bathing costume…”

Shy looked at himself dubiously, deciding that he didn’t intend to disrobe on the beach anytime soon, for fear of scaring away the tourists. Cary, on the other hand, cut a rather dapper figure, now he was no longer swamped by camping equipment. That said, with his face lost beneath a bushy beard, he did have the air of one of those old fashioned jungle explorers, rather than the sort of person who might be planning a local arts festival. “Are you bird-watching?” Shy enquired, “Or just being a filthy perv?”

“A bit of both…” replied Cary and gave a little chuckle, “Although, I’m more interested in the Green Fairy Isles… It’s all a bit of a local legend – no-one really seems to have ever found them, but it beats all that nonsense about phantom underwear into a cocked hat! Now a Magic Island would really be somewhere cool to stage a pop festival, don’t you think? What was it you were here for again, Shy?”

“I had considered working on a factual piece…” he blurted, now suddenly called to provide a reason for his arrival in town. “Fine Restaurants Of Pembrokeshire! It’s rather a specialist niche – but I’m very fond of this part of the world and it’s fine Welsh cuisine… Especially the sausages…”

Cary frowned, “I’m vegetarian myself! Make sure you do a veggie chapter, won’t you? Stick a few poems in too. You should really try doing something for the fiction market, you know – you have a unique talent for storytelling, fella!” Shy wasn’t quite sure what to make of that comment – but Cary continued, “I say, are you going to have a beer or not… I was rather hoping you’d help me hammer a few nails into some cardboard boxes so that I can say we’re making progress on the main stage…”

But Shy’s mind had wandered off elsewhere. “I’ll pop back later if I may, McFur! You’ve given me inspiration to write, whilst we’ve talked and I haven’t got my notebook with me to scribble it down!”

“I have a spare note pad or ten in my tent… Right at the back…” But Shy wasn’t stopping around and was already hurrying off back the way he’d come only a few minutes before. Of course, he had got his notebook, (never went without it!) – but that wasn’t the point. There was much to be done, elsewhere!

*
Over lunch, Shy mused about his next plan of action. He didn’t trust Cary McFur one little bit… His whole cover story just didn’t hold water. Sure, he maintained that his festival was at an early stage, but Shy just wasn’t buying a word of it. All that talk of local myths tweaked a nerve, though and he’d put in an order with the local bookshop for a couple of local guides that were currently out of stock.
Later, having purchased a pair of binoculars of his own, Shy caught a bus to Saundersfoot, a couple of miles down the coast – where he planned to walk the cliff top path back to Tenby, as he mused over his next move. Finding the start of the path had been hard enough to begin with. He’d followed a sign to the edge of Saundersfoot Harbour, crossed a sandy beach and waded through a rock pool. All the while he was dodging another sea gull, this time after his bag of Wine Gums, before finally spotting the path to the tree-lined cliff top. Initially, this way was blocked by a rather big dog, yet here the Wine Gums worked wonders by sticking its teeth together and allowing Shy to make a hasty exit – his wet fur no further ruffled! He’d not expected the terrain to be as rough on the old paws, as it was. Of course, ancestrally Yeti’s were quite unfazed by hills and mountains and what-not, but in reality this wasn’t quite Shy’s own background. His parents were most definitely city dwellers. His mother was a librarian, his father a cross dresser and part time Estate Agent - and the highest hill he’d ever climbed was in Richmond Park, near Central London. But even then he’d been riding piggy-back on a friend!

The paths were still very muddy, after recent rain and Shy had not come prepared for such slippy conditions and although he wasn’t exactly wearing beach flip flops, the trainers he wore had precious little grip. If only he’d packed his DMs, even in the heat. “At least your new binoculars still work!” he sighed – and indeed they were, if only he could be sure of what he was looking for. One thing he had noticed though were the enormous great, big black storm clouds coming ever close over the horizon.

Within another 20 minutes they were not just on the horizon, but also overhead – not just threatening a storm but delivering it. On a June day such as this he would have expected daylight ‘til getting on for half past nine, or later – but today at only five minutes to six, the sky had already turning a dark, gloomy dusk. The wind had got up and was howling across the cliff top and, typical luck, thought Shy – he’d recently left behind the cover of woodland where he would have been able to shelter, otherwise.

“Bloody storm!” he grumbled, ducking his head to the elements, whilst trying to climb a rather rickety stile. He knew he wasn’t terribly far from Tenby and had even caught sight of it earlier, just before the rain. But now he faced a steep slope and many perilous rabbit burrows to prevent any rapid descent. “Gimme Shelter!” exclaimed Shy, recalling a favourite Rolling Stones track, “It’s just a shot away…”

Aforementioned shelter was indeed nearby, this was a pleasant surprise, however he hadn’t expected to share it with every Tom, Dick, Harry or in fact any stray Ermintrude the Cow in the neighbourhood that happened to wander in. But sure enough, he did so. The path itself followed a line of trees where every bunny, every single sheep and several cows were huddled. The track was already a large muddy lake and rain teemed off the leaves to add to the ever growing mess. To make matter worse, one of the fences between fields had collapsed and a number of angry looking bulls were now coming his way.

He was about to make a run for it when there came a cry.

“HHHEEEELLLLLLLLLLLPPPPPPPPP!”

Somewhere out there, in the rain and the mud – beyond the cows and the frisky bulls and bleating, angry sheep – it rather sounded as if someone badly needed his assistance. Shy wasn’t one to give up in situations like these – whether the odds looked good or not. He’d find a way, if there was one – although in the haze of the rain it wouldn’t be easy.

“HHHEEEELLLLLLLLLLLPPPPPPPPPP!”

Shy gritted his teeth. He was going to need some extra strong Yeti magic to help save this lost soul...

CAN SHY ESCAPE THE FRISKY BULLS AND RESCUE A FELLOW IN DISTRESS? WILL HE EVER LEARN THE SECRET OF THE TENBY SAUSAGE OR BE ABLE TO TRUST CARY MCFUR??

FIND OUT NEXT WEDNESDAY - 5TH OCTOBER - FOR THE ANSWERS!!

THE TALE OF THE TENBY SAUSAGE - PART 1

Shy gazed at his train ticket guiltily! He was embarrassed, to say the least, having errr-ed again by allowing himself to use to those primal urges; his Ancient Yeti powers. He'd been born with them, but never, until recently, succumbed to using them. Still, the ticket had been expensive and the rail service poor! Why should those bonus eating, fat cats get hold of his money when they didn’t seem to care less about their passengers? Anyway, that wasn't the point – or was it? He'd not paid a penny for his ticket, instead beamed furrily and done his extra-special Yeti eye-trick which seemed to make people do whatever he wanted!! Nice if you can manage it. Yet it also still felt very wrong to have done so…

Shy was well on his way now, though. He was on the last part of his journey from Camarthen to Tenby, to begin a new adventure. He didn’t mean to settle in Wales for very long - this was just his first step out of London. He'd recently left behind his friend Anthony, having had a little trouble with another pal, the infamous Danbear, who had become a Monsterous Casserole and destroyed Ant’s flat! Having lived through all that, he fancied doing something a little different and had left a Cub of his acquaintance, named Luke in charge back home and headed off. His life from now on would be that of a wanderer. So, this was a good start – giving his previously dull and directionless routine some well needed perk. Previously he'd been an office bound Yeti - a P.A. for the legendary Simon Yeti – an actor of some renown. Of course, Shy was a poet too - a country lad who didn't much like the city…

Today he was a Yeti with a mission – with a reason to travel - heading for the sea. A rather mad, quite possibly foolish mission, sure enough, but then what Yeti wouldn't trundle the lengths and breadths of Britain, or anywhere really, in pursuit of some good old-fashioned nosh. Some folk chose the Ibiza sun - but a Yeti... Well, a Yeti is guided by the gurglings of his stomach. That's the truth. End of story.

Shy was in search of the Tenby sausage. Why this, you may ask? It sounds a little tenuous a reason to go gallivanting around Wales in search of, I'll agree. But, as discussed, Shy had been looking for an excuse to get away and this first destination was a starting point - this inane pursuit as good as any.

“Well, they were VERY good sausages!” he reminded himself, having been unable to raise the manufacturers by phone. “I'm not going to get any more in a hurry unless I go, collect them myself!”
They were indeed a pretty specialist product and to say they were hard to get hold of, would probably have been a gross understatement, it’s true. They were a MAIL ORDER ONLY luxury that Anthony had obtained for one of his fine casseroles, the remains of which they'd finally chobbled in the ruins of his flat, after the Casserole beast had been defeated (or at least subdued for the time being!) Alas, so soon - the sausages were all eaten and Shy was left with a craving for more and desperate to satisfy his fancy. There was no address on the wrapper, only a logo incorporating a photo of the sausage being lovingly cradled by its creator. “God help me if they're made in Swindon or Woking or something, after all this!” Shy had mused. How wide a range or exactly what flavour he’d eaten only the Tenby Sausage Company themselves knew – for that part of the wrapper had, rather annoyingly, been lost.
“Ooops sorry! Mind my guy ropes there in your tea, lad! Can I interest you in tickets for the festival?”

“Err no – not really!” the voice seemed hesitant but then leveled. “No ta, I’m not interested, mate!”

Shy looked up from his daydreaming and noticed that a man, bedecked with half a campsite on his person, had entered their carriage. Pots and pans hung from every hook on his ruck sack, with what may well have been a compact marquee strapped to his back. He was bothering a rather handsome young cub in a Muse t-shirt, who was far more intent on reading his NME and listening to his MP3s than getting involved in a conversation with any eccentric camping freak who might pass by.

“Go on! You'll love my Alternative Tenby festival - we'll be having all your favourite bands there...”

“What if my favourite band was The Beatles...” replied the guy stubbornly. “Or Nirvana…”

“Oh, they'll be there... Well – I’ll make sure the Tribute acts are, anyway! Oh come on - buy a ticket!”

But the cub wasn't listening. “I really won't have the time - I'm travelling here on other business...”

Campsite guy almost laughed, noticing the label on the Cub's rucksack he wasn't letting this victim go. “Come on Mr Barrie Timbearcub! Baz... You're telling me you're not interested in seeing all your favourite bands at my festival? It's not just music, but authors and actors and playwrites and painters!”

“I really don't think so... Honestly… No, thank you.” Baz smiled awkwardly and returned to his paper.

“Well, think about it! My name's Cary McFur - I'm sure we'll run into each other again at some stage!”

“Do you reckon so? I was rather hoping we wouldn’t - bye now!” Baz snapped, quite bluntly, but Cary didn't seem to notice his withering gaze and shuffled away, leaving the Cub to read in peace.

McFur was coming his way, “Can I interest you...” But Shy cut him dead the only way he knew how - stood up to him as only a Yeti can. With a deep booming snore Shy quite blatantly faked being asleep.

*
It was about ten minutes later that the train pulled in at Tenby Station and pretty much all passengers on board disembarked. At first Shy was convinced that the town had undergone an invasion attempt by seagulls. For a good quarter of an hour that was all he saw everywhere – sitting on bins – on cars and rooftops, as if they'd swoop on down any minute, to pluck and fly off with the locals and tourists to some far off concentration nest run by birds. (Hollywood disaster movie meets Alfred Hitchcock!) The gulls were everywhere. They sat on railings and squawked, some circled menacingly overhead, whilst others still ripped open bin bags to scavenge for food – rather like feathered, web-footed students...

Shy had not made a prior reservation before arriving, but decided to try his luck at the closest B&B to the Station; The Kingsbridge. A lot of the bigger hotels overlooking the bay looked like they'd been invaded by the blue rinse brigade - and the last time Shy had gotten blue rinse in his fur he'd had to shave it all off because the dye had made him hallucinate, until he’d believed he was a bunny named Bernard and had nearly been shot trying to steal carrots from a farmers garden. Anyway, this B&B was close, seemed reasonably quiet and had a free room, at a cheap price. He’d gone and paid three nights in advance, not being totally sure how long he'd stay. Not only was his room very spacious and well decorated, but the owner was helpful with directions and advice. His name was Steve, a shortish gentleman with a Midland's accent, a goatee beard and a liking for dressing with a look that can best be described as “1970s Panto Dame...” It was a look he did with great style and panache, however.

After a afternoon of show tunes and french fancies, Shy felt very much part of the family - so at ease that he decided to ask the big question. “I was wondering, Steve, if you knew the address of the Tenby Sausage Company or for that matter any restaurant hereabouts that would serve them, frazzled?”

Steve's manner seemed to change ubruptly, becoming distant and almost defensive, “I'm not sure what you mean, Yeti... If it's high quality meat products you require then I can recommend a number of establishments around here that would serve you a Pembroke Sizzler or a Bangor Banger - but I'm not aware of any company nor brand produced exclusively here in Tenby..." Shy even showed him the wrapper but it didn't seem to help. Steve soon excused himself and vanished into his private boudoir to listen to “Either some Dolly, some Barbara or the latest collection of thrash classics by The Locust...”

Shy bid Steve good afternoon and headed on out. He wasn't going to take no for an answer, nor give up so easily. On the way up the hill into town Shy noticed Baz, the Cub from the train, stood in front of a joke shop called GIGGLES. He was peering intently at the appallingly inaccurate rubber masks of once great film and TV stars, popstars and celebrities on show. It was rather obvious that they’d not been selling well as most of the supposed stars were either long dead or had faded into obscurity. Shy really couldn’t imagine why the young fella could be that interested in masks of Mickey Mouse’s mother-in-law, “That awful woman from Big Brother” nor “Some bloke, trampled by elephants whilst picking blackberries on Hampstead Heath!” Actually, in fact he seemed quite in a daze over them!!

Shaking his head, Shy sighed and ambled on into town…

At this point I would love to describe Tenby to you… However, I will admit that description isn’t my strong point and Tenby is so very pretty that the detail would take me weeks. It would make it much easier for me really, if you just went and visited yourself, though I realize that this involves a long journey and financial commitment on your part - when I should just accept my responsibility and properly describe the place. But could you cope with that? Pages of waffle about sea, sun and sky, of the architecture or the quality of the pastel painted buildings by the quay. You could, of course, go and take a look on the internet for photos. After all – I could be lying; an agent for the Tenby tourist board. Stranger things have happened! Tenby’s a quaint town with cobbled streets, small cafes, lush sandy beaches and boat trips which allow for admiration of the local bays. There are views from every point; on the High Street overlooking the harbour, from restaurant balconies and hotel windows looking off towards Saundersfoot or Caldey, from the old Castle Hill to either the North or South bays or down to St. Catherine’s Island. I know a few old seaside towns and Dunbar is a particular favourite, but I wouldn’t swap you the views of any other place for those Shy saw that sunny evening in early June.

However our heroic Yeti, rather sadly – didn’t truly appreciate the view - for he was still far more interested in his stomach and more specifically the mission in hand – the hunt for the Tenby sausage…

“I’m afraid we don’t sell those, Sir…” explained the man at the Supermarket dryly.

“Well, have you actually heard of the brand, at all?”

“I’m afraid not Sir… But we do have a Tom Cat and Melon Flan that’s rather a local speciality…”

“I don’t think so…” replied Shy, rather alarmed. “No thank you! I’ll maybe leave that one this time!”

After this Shy tried a couple of other shops before they shut for the day, but found a similar lack of enlightenment at every turn. “We have Squirrel and Seaweed Pate – but that’s about it!” declared one.

At the last shop he visited he even tried some Yeti Magic, (to gain some undivided attention, mind!) but Betty, the old lady who ran the place had very little to add. “I’m not aware of anyone who sells sausages made here in Tenby, Sir… We’ve certainly never sold them! It’s possible that one of the restaurants makes their own or someone from out of town is cashing in on our name…” he’d shown her the wrapper he carried with him but she was still none the wiser. “I’m afraid I’ve never heard of them, dear. Were they nice? Do you know what they were made of? I love a good sausage, myself!”

This, of course, was a very good point! He still didn’t know that and had thought only briefly on the subject, as yet. He’d noticed how tasty, tangy and meaty they were – rather like chicken breast, but with the smooth aftertaste of duck – a hint of Pork – leek and some spices. Of course when he’d had it as part of the casserole it had been cooked with tomatoes and vegetables in a sauce – fried with green and red peppers, heaped with mushrooms and serviced with butter drizzled new potatoes and broccoli.

Shy was beginning to think that he’d drawn a blank when something Betty had said about restaurants crossed his mind. Maybe – just maybe, there was a place that served up local traditional dishes…

“You’re a marvel, Yeti!” he informed himself modestly. “How will they ever cope without you back home in London? They won’t quite frankly – they’re going to just crash and burn. Poor fellas…”

It didn’t take Shy long to find a restaurant that served a range of regional goodies – in fact there was even one that overlooked the harbour and openly advertised a speciality sausage! It was just off the High Street – next door to a pub where the locals were having a sing song. The restaurant had a half bar, half café feel to it and was called Pam-Ann’s. It had a casual, yet smartly decorated style, with red chequered cloths and a polite waiter service. The walls boasted a couple of sea-side scenes and a rather moth eaten looking ship-in-a-bottle took pride of place. Music was being piped in from the kitchen – inoffensive 60s ballads, a bit of Shirley Bassey, some Petula, Lulu, Cilla, Sandy Shaw and the divine Dusty (one of Shy’s particular favourites of that era.) But he wasn’t in the mood tonight… Shy was usually quite a patient Yeti, but not since his concussion and certainly not on this particular occasion.

“I’d like a Tenby sausage, please…” he declared when the waiter came to take his order and he held up the wrapper which he’d brought from Anthony’s flat. “I presume you sell this variety or something very similar – apparently they’re made locally!” the waiter looked at him disapprovingly, “Chop! Chop!” snapped Shy, “A Tenby sausage with new potatoes and summer vegetables – hold the gravy and I won’t be requiring any mustard… I need to savour the unique taste of these babies! Gravy’s nice on a roast, but it can rather drown a sausage! Mustard has it’s place, but on your everyday banger it most often ends up smothering things – though I am rather fond of the French variety…”

“But Sir… There are many… I’m not sure you quite understand…”

Shy didn’t really care how many varieties there were. At least they served them! It was a start. He didn’t want to have to use his powers on the waiter so simply repeated. “I require a sausage – made here in Tenby by local Tenbyites… In fact not just one or two – but twelve please – I’ll happily pay the extra… Skin sizzled to a crisp, please! Firm to the knife!” The waiter nodded meekly and departed to the kitchen to dispatch the order. “Eureka!” he cheered. “At last, I have found what I came for!”

Shy sat waiting, watching as a group of tourists mulled about waiting for a ghost tour to begin, just outside on the High Street. The tour advertised local tales of hauntings from ghostly underwear to Phantom Porpoise – it really did look too good to be true, thought the Yeti. Glancing down at his poetry notepad Shy began to play around with one or two lines of a new composition, “The waiting staff at Pam-Ann’s all have brains made out of cheese… They simply NEVER listen and do not seem to wanna please…” He wasn’t 100% sure it scanned and decided to give up and to try again later… Looking up again he heard a commotion in the kitchen. He could smell the familiar waft of sausages frying (So much nicer than by grill!) and also caught the sight of a rather cross looking chef giving him evils through the serving hatch. Shy gave far harder evils back and the man soon vanished again.

“Ho hum!” pondered Shy. Something about his order was causing concern. Had he spoken too soon? Would he ever get to taste those heavenly bangers again and why on earth was there so much mystery surrounding such food? What on earth was the secret ingredient which made them so very unique?

Hopefully, in the next minute or so he’d have the answer, quite literally, served on a plate for him!!

FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS NEXT WEDNESDAY IN PART TWO OF SHY YETI AND THE TALE OF THE TENBY SAUSAGE!!!!

COMING SOON : THE TALE OF THE TENBY SAUSAGE

HI!

THE FIRST PART OF THE TALE OF THE TENBY SAUSAGE WILL NOW BE POSTED ON WEDNESDAY 21ST SEPTEMBER AT APPROXIMATELY MIDDAY...

Here - to keep you going, is a brief extract!! See you Wednesday! :-) Shy x

“Well, they were VERY good sausages!” he reminded himself, having been unable to raise the manufacturers by phone. “I'm not going to get any more in a hurry unless I go, collect them myself!”

They were indeed a pretty specialist product and to say they were hard to get hold of, would probably have been a gross understatement, it’s true. They were a MAIL ORDER ONLY luxury that Anthony had obtained for one of his fine casseroles, the remains of which they'd finally chobbled in the ruins of his flat, after the Casserole beast had been defeated (or at least subdued for the time being!) Alas, so soon - the sausages were all eaten and Shy was left with a craving for more and desperate to satisfy his fancy. There was no address on the wrapper, only a logo incorporating a photo of the sausage being lovingly cradled by its creator. “God help me if they're made in Swindon or Woking or something, after all this!” Shy had mused. How wide a range or exactly what flavour he’d eaten only the Tenby Sausage Company themselves knew – for that part of the wrapper had, rather annoyingly, been lost.

THE TALE OF THE BIRTHDAY BEAR - PART 6

The creature lashed out, calling to him greedily. Shy could hear Dan's whisk, whisking dangerously and knew there was no hope of escape! He just couldn’t open his eyes for those last moments! How could his friend become so bewitched? What had he hoped to achieve. Dan was no stereotypical movie villain, he wasn't intending to explain motive and maybe even felt a tinge of guilt at his actions. So, no - he wasn't going to laugh about it - just watch calmly and be sure the job was done….

Shy felt himself dragged towards the Casserole, as it rose above, to smother, enclose and consume him... He could hear shouting too - above the creature’s frantic sploshing and the evil grrring of Dan's whisk. Something was pulling at his legs and he fell over backwards and hit his head hard against the side of the bath. Shy could hear himself whimpering - crying out for mercy and hoped he wasn't making too much of a scene. “Die bravely, Shy!”he told himself crossly, “Be a big and brave Yeti…”

A highpitched noise rung around the room. Something had hold of his feet – but was taking him away from the bathroom into the hall, then suddenly. “Hey Shy! You can open your eyes now, matey?”

Shy did so and saw things had changed. Before him was Luke and in his hand was the Time Device. “What’s up? What did you do?” Shy snapped dozily. “You didn't save me using that, did you?”

“Just on a low setting, man! It won't last half as long as the other event did and it shouldn't spread beyond the flat... I fell asleep - heard the noise and then I realised I'd been using Danbear's coat as a pillow - the Device was still in his pocket... Are you ok? I don’t expect a thank you or anything…” he added with faux indignance and Shy muttered something incoherent. Luke just smirked and ignored him. “Get your breath back… Don't speak! I’ll just close this bathroom door before Time reverts...”

“But what about Dan? Where is he?” Shy couldn’t see the bear anywhere out in the corridor.

“Ahhh... Well... I think Dan's become the victim of what he expected either you or Anthony to succumb to... Sit up and I’ll show you – but we’ll have to act quick should Time run normally again...”

“Show me what?” Shy's voice trailed off as Luke stepped aside to give him a clear line of vision - indicating the warped, disjointed scene in the bathroom – now he saw what had occurred within...

Luke had fired the Device straight at Dan and the Mutant Casserole, having grabbed Shy out of the way. The creature had then turned to Dan instead and no cleverly adapted whisk had a hope of saving him from his fate. Dan appeared to have fallen back into the bath himself - in fact he was still falling. Already the Casserole appeared to be choking and morphing into him. His face and beard were already totally soaked in gravy and a courgette appeared to have fused itself to the back of his head and was growing steadily - slowly thrashing about in the blood polluted sauce. Shy felt his eyes misting over a little (was it the steam from the bathroom?) Poor Danbear - his once good friend now looked a little like a large and furry balloon that had deflated, as he became consumed by the beast in the bath. He was now it’s ears and eyes, its legs and paws and body from which to sprout and grow from.

A host body.

“That’s quite enough of that for one day, man!” declared Luke once he noticed the Yeti going pale.

“For all the furry saints!” gasped Shy as he took it all in. “Well, he was never like that a minute ago!”

“Of course he wasn't...” Luke agreed. “But think about it - that could have been you!” and with that the cub slammed the bathroom door. “Enough! You've seen enough...” he said boldly, quite a different and braver fellow than before - changed by the sudden need for spontaneous heroics. “We've only got another couple of minutes before Time resumes! Once things go back to normal that creature is going to grow a lot bigger and faster! But right now, we need to get Anthony awake and out of here, okay?”

Shy was already pulling himself up onto his feet. “ANTHONY?! ANT! Wake up now!” this time there was no tip-toeing around and Shy went straight into Ant's room and shook him roughly from his sleep.

“Hey! What’s going on, la!?” exclaimed The Speccy Ant, allowing his Liverpudlian accent to slip out.

“Come on, fella... Grab some clothes if you can! If you can't - just come along! Dan's experiment has gone badly wrong – or maybe it went right, I dunno! Anyway he's turning into some kind of Casserole beast thing... Whatever he had going on in that bath was a parasite that's now consumed him. Luke has it trapped in a Time bubble - but it's breaking free... It'll start to grow – you MUST get out of the flat!”

“Quick guys!” Luke called. “Everything's back to normal and it's trying to break out of the bathroom!”

“Well, thank goodness I was sleeping in my Morrissey t-shirt!” muttered Ant gloomily. “At least I can keep a certain air of sophistication should I find myself left standing in the street in my pants! Imagine if I’d been wearing my Spice Girls pyjamas!” Grabbing his specs, shoes and a pile of shirts he hurried out into the hallway. “DAN! Are you alright?” he called. “Can't we just use the Time Device again?”

“Certainly NOT!” exclaimed Shy. “It's VERY dangerous... Now quickly... Let's get out of here...”

“I suppose my books will be okay for now…” he sighed, Shy wasn’t so sure, but didn’t say as much.

It was Luke’s turn to look uncertain, “Shouldn't we stay to stop this thing - to stop it growing?” Shy paused - the Cub had a good point. “We can't just run away and leave it to devour half of Brixton!!”

To be fair, Shy didn't really see why not - but realised that some responsibility did indeed rest in his paws. Even as they spoke, their list of possible actions narrowed down and a route of escape was blocked. The creature was still finding resistance as it beat hard against the bathroom door, but this was not so with the bathroom window, which it had smashed immediately Time returned to normal. A furry, brocolli-like frond had begun to grow in that direction, through the broken glass and along the outside corridor wall towards the hallway window. Within seconds it had smashed that pane too and was working it's way blindly into the corridor - expanding and blocking the front door.

It was time to think again. “Into the lounge!” Shy ushered them both in, slamming the door, before then piling Ant’s book shelves in the way. “I'm sorry – I’ll buy you new books if we survive, Dan!”

“Yes! Yes, alright... Let me help you!” he agreed, without argument. The sight of the creature rapidly growing in the corridor had obviously frightened him somewhat. “Maybe it'll think we're hiding in the bedroom - maybe it'll expand into that room first before it gets any further down here...”

“It might try both at once...” added Luke and then realised that this wasn't the most tactful thing to say, “Maybe it'll just do one at a time though... You know – to be thorough… Yeah – that’s possible…”

“What on earth is Alan going to say about all this?” sighed Shy, getting his breath back from manhandling a couple of units that were choc-a-bloc with books. “I mean, what are we going to say? Sorry, Dan won't be home for lunch today - he's turned himself into a Casserole! He’ll blow a gasket!”

All this time, whilst Shy had been wearing himself out moving shelves around, he could have been thinking - but luckily Luke had been doing that for him, "Do you have any rope at all, Anthony?”

“I don't think so... I have a sweater we could unravel or the pipe from one of those hookah things I bought when I was in India! Perhaps I could make you a ladder from long spaghetti - I never eat it cos I really rather prefer pasta tubes myself - what's the Italian... I've quite forgotten... What's that noise?”
Ant’s usual cynical cool seemed drained, but he was right - there was a thumping noise close by. It wasn't coming from the corridor - but the room next door. Dan had found the bedroom and was trying to get to them that way. It wouldn't be long before it broke out of the bathroom and went for an attack on the lounge door. “I KNOW!” Exclaimed Luke suddenly “Tea towels!!! Loads of them... Don’t you have a collection or something? Let's tie them all together and then you can winch me outta here...”

Luke was correct about the tea-towels, but Ant was furious. “Let YOU escape? What about us?”

“I’m NOT escaping!” sighed Luke as he begun to work. Around him the floorboards creaked and more and more plaster fell from the walls. “I just thought we could launch an attack on the thing! Take as much of that crappy cut quality, overpriced food that they sell in the store downstairs and bombard it! Spoil the recipe as it were! It may make matters worse - or we MIGHT find its Achilles heel!”

“Top idea, cub! Excellent!” agreed Shy. “Much better than running away! So, is that rope ready, yet?”

“Almost! I must be mad volunteering for this!” Luke sighed, then added. “Why are we all so tubby? Why isn’t one of you lighter than me - then I wouldn’t have to dangle out of this window!” he calmed down to ready himself. “I’m trying to remember a conversation I had with Dan recently about food, he likes most things – I’m trying to think if there’s anything he hates that might help us somehow!”

“So are you trying to kill him?” Ant sounded upset. “If he explodes will it mess up the paint work?”

“I think the paint work is the least of our problems!” Shy began to secure Luke to the tea towel rope and slid open the second floor window, helping Luke clamber over the sill before slowly beginning to lower him down. “Careful now… We need to get you back up on that – unless you can find some proper rope!” Luke nodded – the tea towels creaked and the knots tightened but he made it safely to the pavement, untied himself and disappeared into the shop. “He’s alright!” grinned Shy, turning back to Ant, “This creature is pretty much demolishing your flat! I don’t know whether we’ve even got the power to kill it – or whether there’s anything left of Dan to save, but whatever we do we must at least contain him – stop him escaping or growing! Don’t think I’m being callous – he’s my friend too, but if you’ve no flat at the end of this, but we’ve stopped the creature rampaging down Electric Avenue then it’ll be a job well done… I’m sorry! We can blame the damage on a gas leak if needs be, just don’t start being a drama king about it all – just try and make sure the lounge door stays shut…”

Ant said nothing all the while. He looked like he might be silently fuming. All the same he hurried over towards the lounge door, just as it started to bulge inwards behind the bookshelves that they’d blocked. “Are you going to pull me back up again, then?” called a voice from the Street – it was Luke – back already. He was carrying a couple of full looking plastic bags which Shy presumed he’d paid for, but later learnt had practically shop-lifted by offering no more than a wink. Luckily, by that point the alarming noises from the flats were becoming evident even to the shop keeper below and having a friendly cub steal a couple of bags of cheap tinned peas or whatever was the last of his worries.

“Ok! Get ready, fella!” Shy turned away from the window to call Ant over. “Come and give me a hand Luke’s back already and he’s got a couple of bags worth of stuff here – it’s going to be a heavy load!”

“Dan’s breaking through the door!” Anthony called out as he hurried over. “Let me down the rope…”
Shy was furious, “You do what you want – just you help me get Luke back up here first… CUB!? We’re pulling you back up now? Sit still, hold on tight and try not to lose anything…”

“Okay…” between them they managed to heave him up. Luckily, other than the shop keeper there were very few people about. It was still very early and Brixton was not the sort of place to encourage an early start, (unless you’d never been to bed in the first place.) Luke tried to help matters by pushing himself up the wall by his paws but it was quite difficult for him to manoeuvre whilst holding the bags. Then suddenly, an urgent cry; “Quick Shy… The carrier bags are giving way… Hurry up…”

Shy and Anthony tried to grab both Luke and the bags, so as to haul them all in through the window in one go, but the damage was already done and tins began dropping from a hole in one of the carriers, whilst the handles gave way on the other and half the contents spilled down onto the pavement.
“Oh crap!” sighed Luke, “Bloody bags – I should have brought something stronger with me…”

“Don’t worry…” Shy assured as he unpacked the remains, “All is not lost! What have we got here?”

“It’s mainly stuff Dan hates or that no person with taste can bear – like Badger offal or Marmite…”

“I like Marmite!” snapped Anthony as he helped unpack what remained. Tins of butter beans, frozen sprouts, tins of mussels and what may have been a clam as well as large stinky Brie. “Do you need a tin opener for some of these things? I should have a couple if it’ll help – here they are…”

“Staying are we?” muttered Shy sarcastically, under his breath and then louder. “Yes, a tin opener would be good, ta! But quickly – you were right about that door – he’ll break through it in a minute!”

“I just grabbed all I could!” chattered Luke. “I know he likes liver and black pudding and mushy peas so I didn’t get those – but now I’ve only gone and lost half of what I did get, out on to the street…”

“It’ll be ok…” Shy reassured, aware of a lack of time, “If we can mix up the food in your blender, Ant it’ll make it a little easier to spread around… That’s if he doesn’t get so big the floor gives way! I reckon that shop keeper’s about to get a bit of a shock coming through his ceiling, any minute now…”

“First batch is ready!” called out Anthony and to Shy’s amazement he’d already taken the lids of half a dozen tins and blended up a ikky looking paste, whilst Luke took the tops off a couple more. “You might find some anchovies and a tub of mouldy hummus in the fridge if you take a quick look!”

Shy grabbed the first bowl of gunk and shambled over to the lounge door with it, pulling away the bookcases and furniture that had previously blocked their path and exposing the damage to the door, already done by the creature. Rather than beating a way through, it seemed to have absorbed it, literally soaked into the wood and weakening it until it was no longer tough wood, but rather more like soggy papermache. The creature was forcing it’s way into the lounge now – despite its increasing size.

“Here Danny boy! Lunchtime!” Shy soon realized that the best way to administer the concoction was to dip Ant’s damaged reference books into the gunk, before lobbing them into the Dan beast. Not only did it give the potion the chance to pierce deep into the blob - but it also seemed to have an effect!

“AWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW CLAAAAMMMMMMMSSSSSSSSS – I HATE CLAMS!!” it appeared to cry, but it may just have been their imagination and maybe the creature was simply roaring at them. “YUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUK! THERE’S NOTHING WORSE THAN AN UNRIPE BRIE MIXED WITH BRUSSEL SPROUTS… AWWWWWWWWW! BURRRRRRP! BURRRRP!”

“Sounds like you’ve made it angrier, Shy!” Luke called as he hurried over with another kitchen bowl of goo. “We’re going to be running out of tins in a mote mate! Do you want me to go down for more?”

“Let’s see how this lot goes…” Shy began throwing some of the larger encyclopaedia volumes at the beast. “This thing’s either going to die or the floor’ll collapse! Just be sure you don’t let the creature touch you! I’m not sure what might happen if it does – so just avoid it… We may have to evacuate!”

“Last batch done!!!” called Ant. “Oh Hell – it’s coming through the wall here – right into the kitchen! Oh – for goodness sakes, Dan! Look at my beautiful kitchen tiles - they’re smashed to smithereens!!”

Luke hurried over with the last pot of goo, ducking as another tentacle sliced through the soggy patch in the wall. “Throw it all on - then head for the window!” Shy cried, the whole room was shuddering now and bits of ceiling were falling down all around them. “LET’S GET OUT OF HERE! OUT!!!”

Suddenly the flat split in half, breaking away like wet bread from a crust, at the point where the living room became the kitchen. Anthony leapt out and grabbed Luke by the paw and the two just about made it into the safe half of the flat before the floor disintegrated. Shy fell back, limply onto a shelf full of books and watched as the whole building seemed to vanish into the earth, creature and all…
EPILOGUE…

It was about three hours later – as the Church bells next door began to peel tunes by The Smiths and The Cure that things began to return to normal. Alan had called by looking for Dan, but everyone had hidden until he’d gone away because he’d looked like he was really chewing a wasp over him not making it home after Popstarz. There was still no sign of emergency services – but this was really no surprise in that part of town. Buildings collapsed everyday due to arsonists, lunatics or occasionally, monstrous Casseroles. Shy had sent Luke on a mission elsewhere and was taking a break to consider his next move. He was feeling restless already. He and Anthony were sat upon the rubble and books of the flat, busy tucking into the surviving tray of “Speccy Ant’s Original Sausage Casserole”, using empty bean tins as containers and spoons fashioned from the hardboard covers of Classic literature. Shy had made a small fire out of Shakespeare’s plays and they’d heated up the Casserole a treat.

“I put it somewhere safe when the whole place started shaking…” Ant explained. “It took me ages to prepare and those sausages were mail order only and the last I’d got, so I wasn’t going to lose those!”

“Quite right…” agreed Shy gratefully. “I’m absolutely starving and this is really a very VERY good Casserole, fella! You’re right – the bangers ARE marvellous! Where did you say you got them from?”

“Mail-order place in Wales, somewhere near Tenby, I think… You’re welcome to take the details…”

“Got them already, actually! I’m thinking of paying a visit!” Shy was peering into the abyss where there had once been a kitchen, a bedroom, a bathroom – infact where there had also been another 2 floors up and a shop below. “I do hope everyone got out safely…” he sighed. Anthony was looking increasingly guilty. “I hope you see now what can happen if you let Dan tamper with a good recipe – you were supposed to prepare dinner for him – not out of him!” he added and sniggered before it dawned on him that they both missed Dan. Ant was silent as Shy stared on down at the debris, “I’m a little worried about the sewers!” he continued. “Dan’ll make short work of any rats down there!” Shy looked up as he spoke and gave a wave. “It’s Luke! He looks a bit smelly from here!”

Sure enough, he was – but it was hardly any surprise seeing where he’d just emerged from, “Well that’s gone and done it!” confirmed Luke, as he scrambled back up the rubble to join them, “The Emergency Services have finally shown up! I’ve checked the sewers but it’s still too dusty down there to really see – everything seems quiet though! Do you think Dan might be dead or just injured, Shy?”

“Not sure! Having outgrown the flat and fallen through the floor to the sewers it’s certainly going to be a tad bruised, but whether we finished it off, I dunno! I wouldn’t count on it!” Shy admitted. “To be honest I think any damaged bits might rot away and die and it’ll lie dormant awhile to repair itself…”

“You’ll go and check?”

Shy grinned. “No Luke! You’ll go and check! Not that I expect you to find our old Dan down there, all back to normal and untouched but… Well, you’re in charge now! I’m going to Tenby to buy sausages and start my new life! Have some Casserole!” he handed Luke the bowl, before making his way down the rubble. “You’re a very capable young cub, you’ve proved that! Ant will help you, I’m sure!”

“But Shy, you can’t leave… I mean – you just CAN’T!!” Luke protested. “What about your pies?”

“I can and I am! You take care of my pies, Mr – I’ll be back! See you Ant! See you big chief cub!”
Anthony said nothing, but smiled. “I’ll miss you, Speccy…” he said, but too quietly for him to hear. On his way down Brixton Hill on the 159 bus, Shy could still hear Luke’s protests and he grinned all the way to Waterloo. His mind was set on the future - it was time to pass the buck and leave the problems for someone else to sort. “Poor Danbear!” he sighed. “The birthday bear missed his birthday by just one day…” Maybe he’d celebrate it down in the sewers, somewhere. “We never did find out where that Time Device came from, either…” he mused aloud. “I wonder where that got to…”

It was probably lost in the rubble somewhere? Yet another question left unanswered. For now.

**

Apologies for the late posting of this last episode! A bad cold got the better of me, I'm afraid. :(

To find out more about this story, the characters and to read some of Shy Yeti's poetry and learn more about Simon Yeti you can buy a hardcopy version of this story for £2.50 from BEECHES BOOKS. Simply email Shyyeti@yahoo.co.uk for further details.

This friday we begin a new Shy Yeti Tale - The Tales of the Tenby Sausage - tune in on Friday!

THE TALE OF THE BIRTHDAY BEAR - PART 5

“We can't let this Party happen!” was the first thing Shy had said to Luke - at some god-awful hour of the morning, on the day Basher had predicted could see the end of the world. “I know my cat’s a bit of a drama queen but we have to take this seriously! I’m not taking any chances! Even if he doesn’t mean the end of everyone’s world – maybe just Ant’s or yours or mine – then we need to be prepared! If one of them is about to die, surely that’s enough in itself?” Luke sighed exhaustedly. “I know you’re tired fella – but we’ve got to go over to Ant’s now! Whilst they’re still sleeping off the effects of Popstarz!”

“Can’t I even have a snooze on the way there?” he begged. “I mean even you had a bit of a kip…”

Shy nodded reluctantly. “Yes ok - but 40 winks is all you’ll have time for. We have big trouble in store Luke - and you know it! You saw what things were like out here and Dan's still got that device!!”

Luke nodded. He had seen. Once Time had returned to normal, he’d made very sure to keep close to Ant and Dan, to be certain that nothing worse happened. “You can’t just run about using dangerous Time Altering Devices and where on earth did you get that thing?! It wasn’t ARGOS, now was it?!”

“Lucky dip at the fair...” Dan had laughed glibly and Ant had sort of joined in with the joke, although he looked a tad unsure. “It was VERY lucky it was me who found it, I admit! But I have my contacts!”

Outside the club, the fire had died away quickly and the man who'd been trapped between the two realities had merely collapsed into the arms of his friend. They were all drunk and - thankfully - he didn't seem badly hurt. Even some of the vehicles had managed to drive away once Time had resumed and nobody seemed clear as to what had happened. The Night Bus seemed to have taken the brunt of the invisible barrier, but there was no-one to give a clear statement as to what had occurred and the driver had been taken away on a stretcher, with a minor head wound. Shy wondered what the official report would say. Especially when the bus appeared to have hit thin air, whilst the damage to the bonnet told a rather different story. Shy had expected them to evacuate the SCALA – but they hadn’t and he’d waited across the road with Basher. By the time the club closed the damage looked no worse than that of a mild traffic accident. In fact it was unlikely that most clubbers noticed anything wrong.

Before Luke had caught up with them, Shy and Basher had scouted around the wall that the little cat had grafittied and found a line of dead pigeons. They’d been perched on the ledge above the entrance to the SCALA and had not survived the full effect of the Time event. “Don't eat them, will you, Basher?” Shy warned - but the cat gave him such a look that he felt ashamed for even suggesting it.

They'd sat and waited by the wall, for a while - but then Shy had fallen asleep and by the time Luke had found him, the venue was dark and Dan and Ant were heading home in a taxi towards Brixton. Shy still felt worse for wear from the Tequila and stiff from sleeping outside – so after stopping for a quick strong black coffee at the nearest All Night Café the two friends had then headed for Brixton.

Shy had explained to Luke all that had gone on outside and although Luke assured him that Dan had promised to return the Time Pause Device to it’s owner, Shy was still very concerned. “Maybe he will take it back – but where did it come from in the first place!?!” exclaimed Shy, “What’s more, who the hell does it belong to and what stops Dan from getting his paws on even more dangerous devices?”

“Are you sure they'll be asleep?” Luke muttered a tad grouchily, once they reached their destination.

They sat in the Park across from a store where they’d bought, and were now eating, slightly dodgy looking tuna sandwiches. Ant’s flat was one floor above the shop and for now looked very much like it’s residents were sleeping. This Park, was at most times of the day an attractive venue for drug dealers and yobs of all ages and flavour. But on this day, with the time at around 5.45 a.m. on a Saturday morning, drug dealers, yobs and hopefully, Speccy Ant’s, were busy sleeping, so that Cubs and Yeti’s got to wait in peace until they plucked up courage enough to carry out their devious plans!

“I’m expecting it just to be Ant there at the moment…” Shy explained. “Dan will have gone home to the wife for now, I’d have thought… Firstly, we need to get into the flat and check out the bathroom! Hopefully we can stop worrying about that blasted Time Device and Dan will have put it back where it belongs! Now Luke, I’ll need you to keep lookout once we’re in. The mornings are very light, he may even be awake already or at least easily disturbed - but we can't check until we've actually broken in!”

“He did drink quite a bit!” Luke added, but looked pale. “When you say "break in" do you mean illegally?” Shy held out a chain of keys, his old spares. “Oh!” Luke brightened. “Well, that's ok...”

“Well - it's still breaking in, effectively! I've no real right to still have these - but I kept hold of them incase Ant wanted me to water his plants or dust his volumes or some such - but it never came about!”

“Alright!” Luke jumped up, running a paw over the blond stubble on his chin with the concerned look of a man who wished he wasn't still wearing drag in a place like Brixton. “Let’s do it, man! Let’s go!”

“Might you want to be taking off those massive heels first!?” enquired Shy slightly worriedly.

“Might not be such a bad idea...” Luke agreed. “Although I think the Mini skirt rather suits me…”

It took a while to free the Cub from his boots – but within half an hour the two adventurers left the Park and crossed Brixton Hill to meet Bakery Road to where Ant lived at Trent House, Flat 3. With no need for the intercom, Shy took the once shiny keys from his pocket and let them both inside. The inner door closed very quietly behind, as up the twisty stairs they creaked to the door of No. 3. This time Shy was even quieter, so as not to disturb Ant’s sleep - careful to make no sound. Door 3 clicked open easily - protesting only slightly when closed and just to be careful they left it on the latch…

“Does Anthony snore?” Luke whispered. Shy shook his head – it was he who was the snorer. Ant was quite a quiet sleeper, but tonight he was breathing heavily and this could be heard from the corridor, “Shall I scout around the front room and the kitchen, whilst you’re getting the bathroom door open?”

Shy nodded and Luke let himself gingerly into the front room. There was no sign of Dan nor any other partiers, as Shy had hoped would be the case. With all Ant’s books and working materials there was precious little room for friends to stop over. The kitchen also seemed quiet – most of the food for the meal were set out ready and nobody was hiding inside the fridge. Luke managed to keep his paws off the trifle - though it wasn't easy and he did snaffle just one small chocolate gateau. Surely, no-one would notice!? There was also a lot of alcohol there for the occasion - but again, Luke was polite - only slurping about half of the punch from the bowl. At least he didn't fall in. Not too far, anyway.

“I feel a little dizzy!!” he thought, as he found a particularly cosy pile of books to rest his head upon.

Back in the corridor, Shy wasn’t having a great deal of luck breaking through the padlock. Whatever had been sploshing around behind closed doors the other day, was today being quiet and not making a sound. What on earth had Ant been hiding in there? Some surprise present for Dan? Fresh lobster? Ice for keeping beer cool? He wasn't convinced by any of these possibilities, to be completely honest...

It was about then that Shy heard a voice that he recognised immediately as Anthony’s. He was talking in his sleep, “Please Dan – NO! This is insane – you mustn’t use that recipe - especially not with those ingredients... That's not one of my cookery books... Please, this isn't what we agreed...” Silence again.

Leaving the door for a second, Shy hurried to see how Ant was, but paused before actually entering the bedroom. It was better not to risk waking him, so instead, Shy pressed his forehead to the door and allowed their minds to merge. This wasn't quite as complicated as it sounded, with his quarry so close, although he did hope to tempt a few answers out of him. “Can you hear me, Speccy? It’s Shy...”

Silence. Then suddenly Ant replied. “Yes Shy, what is it? Not more stories about the world ending?”
Shy frowned. “No, I was just teasing!” he lied, pressing closer to the door, Anthony was hearing his thoughts as if Shy was actually speaking aloud. “So, what was Dan up to in the kitchen earlier, then?”

A pause, then; “He used the wrong recipe - said we should try something new! I shouldn't tell you…”

“Dan won't mind, fella... We were speaking about it earlier... Why have you let him use your flat like this? I thought this was supposed to be a surprise! Tell Alan to keep him away whilst you’re busy!”

“It’s not like that - Dan said no-one must know! But I’m involved now – a collaborator! He says I'm as guilty as him, now! Says I'd get into just as much trouble – that I have to keep the whole thing quiet!"

Shy was concerned, he’d never heard Ant so upset or afraid. “Ok then! But what about the party?”

“Things have moved on... There'll be no party now... We're going to have to cancel it... Dan's plans are advancing too soon! He says by tonight, we'll know if the experiment has finally worked properly...”

“…And that device? The one Dan used at Popstarz! Has that got anything to do with it? ANTHONY?”

“NO! I CAN’T TELL YOU THAT SHY! I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT HE’S PLANNING!!”

Silence. “Anthony? Ant? Are you ok?” Anthony's breathing had returned to that of a deep sleep and Shy caught himself calling his name aloud just as he was surprised by a noise somewhere behind him.

At first he thought it was Luke, before realising it came from down the corridor, outside the bathroom. The padlock lay loose on the floor. It had been the sound of it falling to the floor, that had made the noise. Gingerly, Shy approached it, unravelling the chains as he wondered what he’d find behind the bathroom door. Turning the handle he pushed the door open and stepped into something less like a bathroom and more like a sauna. Things had changed. Something was busily bubbling away in the bath – something that looked like a more toxic version of the casserole that Ant had been making the other day. All kinds of weird and bizarre ingredients lined the bathtub and the liquid within was kept warm by some giant bunsen burner strapped to the base. The floor was strewn with the unused debris; carrots, potato peelings, the stems of hot chillis and the packaging of sausages, of chicken and chops.

“You've seen quite enough now, Shy!” said a voice. “I think it’s time you took a sample - time you took a bath...” Shy spun around to find Dan, hanging from the back of the bathroom door in one of Ant's old dressing gowns. “You woke me... I was on guard - I expected you to turn up at some point...”

“What’s going on?” Shy demanded, trying hard to look brave and use his Yeti powers – but this time, despite all his efforts they had no effect. “What bizarre culinary experiment are you conducting here?”

“No time to discuss it now, old son... I’m not one of those types who likes to talk about my motives before I do the dirty deed… I’ve got work to do, old pal! Casserole needs a few more ingredients and now you've arrived - you might as well do the honours...” Shy could see that Dan was in no mood for a joke, half drunk from the night out, half bewildered and bewitched by his plans and the intoxicating steam from his peculiar feast. Dan dropped to floor level, forcing Shy to back onto the bath – pushing something into his face that, at first Shy mistook for the Time Device. But this one was different. This item looked more at home in the kitchen, but once again it had been doctored. “Get into the bath, Shy! Don't worry about your costume - it'll soon dissolve! Just step inside... I don't want to have to use this whisk - but believe me, I will – and believe me also, when I tell you - it's a very DEADLY whisk too!”

Shy could hear the casserole still bubbling in the bath - it seemed to be getting closer - pulling itself up around him as if it had a life of it's own. Behind him, some kind of carnivorous superheated life form. Before him, one of his oldest pals, Danbear - with a mad, mad look in his eyes and a killer whisk.

One way or another - things looked bad for the Yeti.

Shy crossed his paws tightly – then he closed his eyes one last time…

What will happen next? Will Shy become Casserole? Can Speccy be saved? Will Dan see the error of his ways? Find out next time in the final installment of SHY YETI AND THE TALE OF THE BIRTHDAY BEAR!!!