Wednesday, 20 July 2011
Chapter seven and a half
Kat had been too busy debating the finer points of butter crème with a passing stranger to notice the oddness as it crept into the park, but the buff shiny people dispersed as if it had been raining Cilit Bang. Once more our heroines had missed the memo to leave. Assholes were coming.
Crazy Lady's dance shifted from celebratory hustle to a fearful mashed potato as Natasha suddenly found herself shoulder to shoulder with an angry mob in bomber jackets.
Neo Nazi's weren't pretty, neither were they sinister Mr Bronson types like in Indiana Jones or full on Triumph of the Will / eat your beating heart in front of your eyes scary. These were more Jeremy Kyle, all flob and shitoos and spewing forth hate because they were too angry to realise that their lives weren't bad because of the existence of brown people.
Kat had disappeared into the ether and Natasha was considering breaking into a gentle trot when the chanting started.
Natasha hadn't felt so sick since the time she'd eaten a stick of butter.She tiptoed back trying her hardest to see above the mob for a telltale glimpse of black ratty ponytail. Kat couldn't be eaten by Nazis, on top of her not wanting to lose the only person on the planet who had been optimistic enough to believe the online rantings of one lonely foodaholic, her cakes were too good to be lost forever. Cake would never forgive her, it would curse her name and taste bad in spite forever. She couldn't do that to cake.
It was downright unfair - she thought to herself as she backed out of the crowd and attempted to circle them, all she'd been trying to do was spread a bit of peace and love and now cake, and Kat were going to hate her forever. And her feet hurt. And she was having a hard time balancing all of those cake boxes by herself.
Natasha was very keen on making sure that her Tupperware was okay. She was very satisfied with her Tupperware situation and didn't want it being interrupted by people who thought that Nick Griffin was an actual person.
She tippy toed to the other side of the crowd, fearing that any minute a human skull would be hoisted aloft. If they killed Kat then she'd have to re-brand the entire campaign, from cakes to some kind of anti Nazi death revenge pact involving swords and pain. She'd probably have to do some exercise to enable her to kick more ass. Natasha hated exercise.
The crowd shouted and shifted, waiting for a grown up to whip them into a frenzy when Kat's head finally appeared through the crowd, talking to a stocky guy in a rumpled suit who was standing on a box.
Natasha would have pushed her way through but for the fact that the woman in front of her was whirring like a Terminator, plus Kat seemed to be okay. She was breathing. She was handing the stocky guy a cake. He was stuffing the cake into his mouth.
He didn't seem too keen on chewing.
He seemed to be struggling to breath.
Kat was backing away…..
Natasha talk half a step forward as the man turned purple and a henchman slapped him on the back. She watched as Brigitte Neilson grabbed cat by the shoulders. Kat struggled and tried her best donkey kick but the stocky guy kept choking and Brigitte's stranglehold held firm. Soon Natasha would probably have to get involved.
The grabby hands were grabbing, the kicky feet were kicking. Someone slapped Kat across the face and she let out a little gothic gulp.
Until suddenly Crazy Lady appeared like a saggy tighted Flash Gordon. Smacking bluntly, left and right with her manky crazy lady handbag. She shoved her way through until she faced Neilson - who had Kat in a headlock and was cruelly tweaking her ponytail, and headbutted her full in the face.
Neilson stepped back in shock whilst Crazy Lady grabbed Kat by the arms, dragging her off whilst stocky man coughed the bad luck penny into the eyes of a regular commenter on the Daily Mail's website.
Then they were gone. Natasha screamed after them and was finally forced to run after them and out of the park.