Larry and Mick and the End Times

"The Apocalypse is upon us..." said Larry, as ash rained from the sky.

"Uh... really?" said Mick.

"Either that or someone's bonfire has got out of hand."

"Probably the latter."

***

But as it turned out, the Apocalypse really was upon them. The raining ash had nothing to do with it, though. The raining ash really was the result of an out-of-hand bonfire.

***

It wasn't the first time Larry and Mick had zombies to deal with. And probably not the last. No matter how many times you find yourself battling legions of the shambling undead, however, it never becomes something you feel you couldn't do without. In your life. As it were. The zombies came upon Larry and Mick unexpectedly - as is their way.

Being investigative types, they went off to investigate the raining ash.

"A bonfire," said Larry. "As I thought."

"No you didn't, you thought-"

"Shh!"

"What?"

Why is it that when someone says, "Shh!" the last thing you tend to do is actually shh? Anyway...

Larry waved his hands crazily in front of his mouth, in an approximate mine of the word "Shh!"

Mick opened his mouth and spread his hands, in an approximate mine of the word "What?"

Larry pointed. At the bonfire. The one they had found. In the middle of the field. That appeared to be composed of human limbs instead of logs and things. And stank of roasting pork. With a hint of decomposition.

"Oh..." said Mick.

***

There were people around the bonfire. Warming their hands. Drinking tea. Toasting marshmallows.

Larry and Mick exchanged a look.

Being chums of long standing, whose mutual feelings approximated something in the vicinity of 'love,' Larry and Mick were able, when circumstances necessitated, to communicate in a manner which can best be described as 'psychic weirdness.' This they presently did. Thusly...

Larry: I could do with a cuppa.

Mick: I am a tad parched also.

Larry: I can give or take marshmallows though.

Mick: But what's with the burning limbs?

Larry: That is a question which has occurred to me also.

"Urghrrr," went an unearthly groan behind them.

"Pardon you," said Larry and Mick simultaneously.

Larry and Mick exchanged a look.

They then looked behind them and saw a zombie. Behind the zombie was a thousand more zombies.

"Not again," said Larry.

"Run!" said Mick.

And so they did.

***

"Zombies!"

The people standing around the bonfire (did I mention it was a really big bonfire?) were not zombies. They did, however, notice the thousand-and-one zombies who were chasing (in a shambling, zombie-like way) the two men, who were waving their arms about, shouting, "Zombies!" and running towards them in a manner which can only be described as like big scaredy girls.

The people standing around the bonfire (twenty or so) put down their cups of tea, marshmallows and so forth, and picked up various items of automatic weaponry.

"Get down," said one, which of course Larry and Mick did, then the bonfire people opened fire.

It was all over in a minute or two, because it's pretty easy to see off the walking dead with automatic weaponry, on account of their slowness. The bonfire people then gestured for Larry and Mick to come join them.

***

"The dead are rising," said a man in a woolly hat and a beard.

"Obviously," said Mick.

"(again)" said Larry.

"Pardon?" said Mr Woollybeard to Larry.

"Well it's not as if it hasn't happened before," said Larry.

"How so?" said Mr Woollybeard.

"Never mind," said Larry.

"So," piped up Mick; "what of all this?" - he gestured at the surrounding carnage.

"It is End Times," said Mr Woollybeard.

"End of what?" said Larry.

"Times," clarified Mick.

"Everything!" said Mr Woollybeard, in a way that made his voice echo hither and yon.

"What, really everything?" queried Larry.

"Yes," said Mr Woollybeard.

"Like what, for example?" said Mick.

"Well, you know..." said Mr Woollybeard.

"The thing is," said Mick, "it's never really been clarified. You know, specifically."

"In apocalyptic texts and what-have-you," interjected Larry.

"And the Internet," said Mick.

Mr Woollybeard adopted a general air of exasperation. This was not the response he had expected from his declaration. So to further emphasise his point, he raised his arms to the darkling sky and boomed:

"THE FOUR HORSEMEN HAVE ARRIVED!"

"Ahh well, you see, that's a bit of an anachronism, don't you think?" said Mick.

Mr Woollybeard fell to the ground in defeat.

***

The Children of Armaggedon sat round the crackling pyre of bodyparts, supping hot chocolate and discussing their plans for the impending deluge of destruction. Well some of them did. The others lamented the fact that they were missing Eastenders.

Larry and Mick, somewhat relegated to the sidelines, remained unconvinced of the finality of forthcoming events.

"It's only a few zombies," they agreed. "It's not as if the very lights of Heaven are being extinguished and yawning pits of fiery damnation are opening in the Earth."

Then the lights went out and a great big hole appeared in the ground. With fire in it.

"Damnation!" exclaimed Larry - which met with a groan from all those present.

"THE END TIMES ARE HERE!" said Mr Woollybeard.

"Button it, Mr Woollybeard," suggested Mick. "You're not helping matters."

"What did you call me?" said that man.

"You heard."

"I shall not have my good name besmirched... I am the Prophet of the Apocalypse!"

"You're an idiot."

"Why you little..."

"OKAY BOYS, IT'S NOT WORTH GETTING INTO A SCUFFLE ABOUT," said the Voice of Ultimate Evil.

***

He sat on a throne. A fiery throne. In the middle of the fiery pit.

"Are you...?" said Larry.

"BEELZEBUB? IF YOU LIKE. ALTHOUGH..."

"Although what...?" said Mick.

"THAT NAME DOES HAVE CERTAIN CONNOTATIONS."

"What do you mean?" said Larry.

"YOU KNOW, PRINCE OF EVIL, HARBINGER OF ETERNAL DARKNESS, ALL THAT KIND OF STUFF."

"I wouldn't fancy living up to those appelations," conceded Mick.

"IT CAN BE A BUGGER," said the Harbinger of Eternal Darkness.

"So why don't you change it?" suggested Larry.

"CAN'T."

"Why not?"

"I HAVE MY REP!"

"Bugger your rep," said Mick; "You can be whoever you want to be."

"YOU REALLY THINK SO?"

"Why not?"

"PEOPLE EXPECT CERTAIN THINGS OF ME."

"Like the zombies," said Larry.

"DID YOU LIKE THAT?"

"Not particularly," said Larry and Mick in unison.

"CLASSIC END TIMES MOTIF..." ruminated Beelzebub.

"Cliche," observed Mick.

"WHATEVER," said Beelzebub.

"When you three have finished masticating the gristle," said Mr Woollybeard... upon which he indicated the hoardes of zombies converging from all directions on the bonfire.

"Really?" said Larry and Mick to the Destroyer of Worlds.

Satan shrugged.

***

When the bodies of the walking dead had been decimated with automatic weaponry, then piled atop the bonfire, Larry and Mick and the Children of Armaggedon said in unison, "What next?"

Beelzebub looked up from his DS. He raised his eyebrows. He said, "YOU KNOW... I REALLY DON'T THINK I CAN BE BOTHERED."

"Shall we go to the pub then?" said Larry.

"WHY THE HECK NOT?" said the Lord of Demons.

[ fin ]