QUERTY Booster

“Quiet round here, ain’t it, stranger?”

The voice was reassuringly growly, a veneer of cinematic drawl barely concealing the clipped precision of the oddly familiar Oxbridge tones, as a shadow detached itself from the wood-house slap-board siding.   The short dark cowboy ambled across to where a powerfully built and handsome young figure was standing in the yard.

“Hmm, Coco,” (for it was he),  said Oncaillgh Donnaigh, “I didn’t know you were into rough chaps.”

“Very droll, sir.  But I venture to suggest it may be a little unwise to appear in these threads.”

Coco’s left eyebrow raised itself by a tiny fraction of a millimetre, a reliable sign that Something was Up.

Oncaillgh Donnaigh glanced uncertainly at his Custard-coloured cardigan.

“Precisely, sir.  And with those shoes….”

“Oh dear.   Well, but perhaps it will click with me eventually.”

“Indeed, sir.  And it may be that an audible phenomenon answering to that general description impressed itself upon your sensibilities a nanosecond or so ago.”

“Could easily have been the safety on a Winchester Super-X, maybe.”

“Connoisseurs inform me, sir, that the click of the safety-catch being disengaged on a Winchester rifle at fifty paces is not dissimilar in terms of audibility to that of a Glock 17 pistol at five.”

“Really, Coco, that’s most interesting.”

“Even more germane, sir, is the corollary that the ballistical effects of their respective projectiles are similarly comparable”.

“And talking of ballistic, sir, I believe I spy Aunt Diane rounding the corner of Shed No. 2.  And she doesn’t look too pleased.”

“I imagine she’s noticed you taking the piss on one of her posts, not a very tactful thing to do, was it?”

“Oh dear, Oncaillgh Donnaigh sir, that was a little remiss of me.  But one is a canine person, after all.  However I shall be more careful in future to ensure my article is indefinite and my object less metaphorical.”

“Well…..perhaps we should go out for lunch, jolly sharpish.  Are you hungry at all?”

“I take it, sir, that His Holiness the Pope has not yet succumbed to the schismatic attractions of Protestantism.  As it happens, there is a Trout Pastiche Restaurant is just down the road.”

“Don’t you mean pasta restaurant, Coco?”

“I know what I mean, sir, if I may make so bold.  As it happens, I’ve already sequestered my lunch there in the traditional canine fashion.  That’s how I got this injury of the lower leg.”

De brown person stifled a sigh.

“Why, you literary old dog,” cried Oncaillgh Donnaigh, “I bet you’ve buried a favourite book or two along with it, eh?”

For a fraction of a moment, a distant smile passed across Coco’s urbane set of chops.

“Given the velocity of approximation and evident intentions of Aunt Diane, sir, videlicet, she’s ‘gonna whomp your butt’, sir, I think we should high tail it outta here ASAP, as the local vernacular has it.”

“Lucky you brought along your incredible machine, Coco!”

“It’s an italian-Russian motorbike-sidecar combo, I got it at a Sugarland Mall down the road.  It’s the Deux Catties Karamazov model with Keyboard App built in, the QUERTY Booster.”

“Gosh, that’s a gigantic cylinder right enough!”

“One does try not to make it too obvious, sir, but it’s rather hard.  But there’s no time to waste, jump in, if you would be so kind,  and we’ll be off.”

“Gosh, this is just like Wallace and Grommit, I’m getting quite carried away!”

“On the contrary, sir.  Hold tight!”

“Yee-haw!  Hurrah for Karamazov!”

“Yee haw indeed, sir.”

© Donnie Ross 2011