Larry and Mick and the Purple Pandemic

 

"People are still getting haircuts and using tanning booths!," said Larry, as he burst through the front door. "Don't they know there's an apocalypse on?!"

 

"Wash your hands," said Mick.

 

"Why?," said Larry.

 

"You look like you've been eating doughnuts."

 

"Fair does."

 

Larry scraped the sugar and excess dry skin that had accumulated on his hands from all the hand-washing into a small Tupperware box he kept upon his person, then went to the bathroom.

 

Over the sound of lathering and scrubbing and splashing and so forth, Mick called to Larry:

 

"Any bread?"

 

"No, but good news!," said Larry.

 

"What?"

 

"All the Easter eggs have been reduced to 50p each!"

 

"Did you get any?"

 

"No, the shelves are cleared."

 

"Well I'm going to get lunch on - fancy butter beans, Marmite and Cornflakes?"

 

"Delish!," said Larry, with surprisingly no trace of irony.

 

"I've always thought you were a bit weird," said Mick, under his breath.

 

"Pardon?," said Larry.

 

"Nothing," said Mick.

 

...

 

It had started at a carboot sale in a field just outside of Worcester. No one really knew the exact source, but there were many theories. To name but a few:

 

Infected Lego mini figures.

Mills & Boon books.

The fur of breeds of dog that you only ever find at carboot sales.

 

And so on.

 

Initial symptoms were a tingling on the left ear, followed by the middle toe of the right foot turning purple (and sometimes falling off), a cough and people getting really hot then really cold. Often, seemingly randomly, people were to be seen stripping down to their underpants, then getting kitted out in full Arctic winter gear. These people were given a wide berth. Especially if they had a purple toe.

 

"How's lunch coming on?," said Larry.

 

"Well..." said Mick.

 

"Problem?"

 

"I've had to substitute Cornflakes for Rice Krispies."

 

"Oh come on!"

 

Larry stormed off to the 'spare' room.

 

Mick suspended food preparation and went to see his chum, who was engaged in one of his many electronic projects, which he used to keep his mind off things (such as when Sainsbury's changed the recipe for their Tomato and Three Bean Soup, making it just a little too spicy and not really beany enough).

 

"Sup dude?," said Mick, as Larry soldered an oojit to a thingamebob.

 

"Firstly, don't say 'sup dude'," said Larry.

 

"Sorry, my good fellow."

 

"That's better."

 

"So...?"

 

"It's this effing virus. It's doing my effing head in."

 

Mick knew Larry was peeved, as he had just said 'effing' twice.

 

"How can I help?," said Mick.

 

"You can pass me that flibbertegibbet," said Larry.

 

"This one?"

 

"No, that's a nurglop."

 

"This?"

 

"Yes, that's the chap."

 

For the next few minutes, Mick passed bits and bobs to Larry, Larry soldered things, they didn't speak and they tried not to think about the fact that they were humans, on a planet full of humans, all of whom were trying not to think about their vulnerability or the uncertainty of their future.

 

Larry used up his last bit of solder.

 

"Looks good," said Mick, as he regarded the pile of solder and electronic widgetry before him.

 

Larry shrugged.

 

"Tiddlywinks?," said Mick.

 

"Don't feel like it," said Larry.

 

Mick slapped Larry on the face. Literally. Specifically the left cheek.

 

"Tiddlywinks stops for no man!," said Mick...

 

... who then slapped Larry on the right cheek. Also literally.

 

"Or virus!," said Mick...

 

... who then got the emergency tiddlywinks set out of his knapsack.

 

"Let's play!," said Mick.

 

Larry and Mick played tiddlywinks.

 

But not before washing their hands.

 

...

 

"Well that's it," said Larry, as he switched off the wireless, upon which he had just been listening to the news; "we're on lockdown."

 

"What does that mean?," said Mick.

 

"I think it means we can't go anywhere."

 

"But what if I need a wee?"

 

"You can go to the toilet."

 

"Oh that's a relief."

 

"Especially if you've been holding it in."

 

Mick gave Larry a look.

 

"Soz," said Larry.

 

"So what are we going to do with ourselves?," said Mick.

 

"Tiddlywinks?"

 

"We can't just play tiddlywinks."

 

"Why not?"

 

"Well there's the aforementioned weeing, for a start."

 

“Okay tiddlywinks and weeing.”

 

“I can’t just live on tiddlywinks and weeing.”

 

“I could get out the Twister.”

 

“We have Twister?”

 

“You haven’t lived until you’ve played Twister.”

 

Larry and Mick played tiddlywinks and Twister, whilst the Purple Pandemic raged throughout the world. Did Larry and Mick contract the virus? That part of the story hasn’t been written yet. Did humanity survive the Purple Pandemic? Watch this space for further updates...

 

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