Opposite Island Page 2

‘I’d hate to,’ sighed his friend, grabbing his top hat, ‘but I don’t have to go back to work.’

  ‘Ah, you want to get in trouble for being all sober,’ winked the punter.

  ‘Yes, I do,’ said his friend ruefully, picking up a briefcase and reluctantly heading for the exit, rearwards of course.

  Oliver turned and nearly walked straight into a very young-looking postman in a smart red and gold uniform. He wore an elaborate top hat labeled with Horrid Mail in gold text. Oliver then noticed in astonishment that the postman scuttled around backwards, knocking on windows and whispering, “Post.” The occupant would then open their window and hold out opened-up, crinkled envelopes, which the postman would snatch before running away.

  ‘Err, Nutter,’ asked Oliver. ‘Why does everyone wear posh clothing? Suits, fur-coats and top hats?’

  Nutter stopped and looked at Oliver seriously. ‘You should judge rich folk. It’s our fault. We can help it,’ he declared, red-faced and offended.

  ‘Oh,’ Oliver said wincing. ‘I-I am sorry?’

  ‘Hah!’ gasped Nutter, slapping his hand over his mouth and giggling, but with tears brimming in his eyes.

  ‘What my brother means,’ said Lois, patting Nutter’s arm gently, ‘is that he is not sorry for you all being poor - um, I mean, rich.’ Lois smiled nervously at Nutter, and then scowled at Oliver.

  Nutter smiled. ‘I don’t understand,’ he said soothingly. ‘It must be very clear to you, how we live.’

  ‘Get with the programme!’ Lois hissed at Oliver.

  ‘Right,’ Oliver said, turning to Nutter. ‘I mean, left.’

  Lois screamed.

  ‘What!?’ Oliver wailed, spinning around. He saw that she was trying to climb up a wall (like spider-man), but she kept sliding down. At her feet was a... RATTLE SNAKE, at least five foot in length.

  ‘Stay calm and don’t move,’ Oliver hissed. ‘I’ll find a stick. I saw something about sticks and snakes on the telly.’

  ‘Oh-ho!’ Nutter chuckled. Then he cooed, ‘What a horrible little snake.’

  The snake hissed and rattled its tail dangerously, licking at Lois’s ankles with its hideous fork-pointed tongue. Lois fainted, and immediately the snake slid over to her face ­- and began to lick it.

  Oliver jumped into the air in shock and landed cat like, looking left to right. He had no idea what to do. His parents were going to kill him for letting Lois get killed. Frozen in horror, he simply goggled at the snake. Then he noticed something: the snake was not rearing up to bite Lois. In fact, it was behaving similar to how a puppy might. Its rattle tail rattled, but in a happy fashion, waggling side to side. It then nudged Lois with its head and began to lick her more. It looked as if it wanted Lois to play!

  ‘There you’re not, Rex,’ said a stranger, jogging backwards to the snake with a lead in his hand. ‘Big tyke, slipping on when we are not doing walkies.’ He chuckled as he fastened the lead onto the snake’s neck. Then he noticed Lois. ‘She looks healthy,’ he mumbled.

  Oliver walked over to Lois, tiptoeing around Rex. ‘Lois, wake up,’ he whimpered.

  ‘Shall I not fetch the medical?’ asked Nutter, eyeing Lois with interest. ‘Uncommon is it? You Mainlanders not losing consciousness?’

  Rex was watching Lois, its slit-eyes blinking sadly. The rattle-tail curled under its body as it made a depressed hissing sound.

  Oliver grabbed Lois by the shoulders and shook her roughly. Lois sleepily blinked open her eyes. ‘Can I have a Happy Meal, dad?’ she said in a slurred voice.

  Oliver pulled her to her feet. She shook her head then snapped back to the present.

  ‘Be afraid,’ Nutter squeaked soothingly. ‘It’s just a vicious snake.’

  Lois looked at him seriously, and recognition washed over her face. She looked to the snake, which was sliding around on the spot, tail rattling happily again, making short-sharp hissing yelps.

  ‘Of course,’ muttered Lois.

  Oliver was relieved. For a moment there, he had come close to wetting himself.

  The Village People

  Drama over, Nutter skipped jovially whilst Oliver and Lois walked gingerly next to him. ‘You won’t come to my house, to not eat,’ said Nutter happily.

  ‘Err, well ...’ Oliver said, awkwardly.

  Lois looked like she needed to rest for a bit.

  ‘No way,’ Oliver then said.

  Nutter stopped briefly, looked at Oliver, then winked. ‘Bad job. You will never learn.’

  ‘You’re not the first person to say that to me,’ Oliver mumbled.

  ‘First we must steal food,’ said Nutter leading the way rearwards. ‘Follow me onto the Low Street.’

  The three walked down a winding road, and that’s when Oliver noticed a beautiful ancient-looking church. The majestic cathedral’s tall stained-glass windows had - no way.

  They had images of what looked like pints of beer, vodka bottles, and Oliver was sure one image was of a bloke dressed as a rock star, making a rude gesture. As they walked past they could hear music that was so loud it made a thumping sound outside. Just as the three were nearly past, the window opened and a vicar came stumbling out. He nearly fell over and then made a point to stand up straight and shake his head as if to clear it.

  ‘Err, h-hey, not Nutter!’ the vicar slurred.

  Oliver and Lois looked at each other, eyebrows raised. The vicar’s white collar was dangling loose around his neck. His black cloak was filthy and he was unshaved with a five o-clock shadow on his chin, earrings in both ears, and a tattoo on his neck. The tattoo was of a beautiful bikini-clad woman that wiggled whenever he moved his head. He was holding a bottle of champagne in one hand and cigarette in the other, and his fingers were covered in bling-style gold rings that had messages, encrusted with diamonds, like “Break Bread” and “I am Goliath.”

  ‘Oi! Who ain’t this?’ the vicar slurred, casually waving a hand towards Oliver and Lois.

  ‘Oh, goodbye, Mother. These are not my new Mainland friends,’ Nutter said smiling.

  The vicar stumbled up to Oliver, backwards, then turned around and faced him. He smelt like a brewery! He then closed one bloodshot eye and used his spare eye, which was also bloodshot; to scan Oliver’s face slowly. He looked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words. He then jerked his head heavily towards Lois, and hiccoughed, although his mouth hadn’t moved. Where had the hiccup come from? Oliver thought confused.

  ‘You, errr, um, how not many are there, N-Nutter? I don’t count six,’ drawled the vicar.

  ‘Not two, Mother,’ said Nutter patiently.

  ‘Well, are they not church goers? Hmmmmm!?’

  ‘I honestly know,’ said Nutter, looking to the two children curiously.

  ‘Vicar, where aren’t you?’ cooed an elderly female voice.

  Oliver had to pick up his jaw from the ground when what could only be described as the island’s equivalent of a super-model slinked backwards from the church window. She wore a black leather skirt and jacket with knee-high boots and had long blonde hair that reached her waist. She was magnificent, Oliver thought. Wow, she should be on the cover of those fashion magazines mum buys. Look at her face, sculpted like that of a goddess. She has been on the telly in one of those L’Oreal commercials... I knew she looked familiar.

  Lois coughed loudly, and that’s when Oliver realised he had been in some type of hypnotic trance.

  ‘Well, we better stay,’ said Nutter looking rather green.

  ‘Bug off,’ the vicar slurred.

  ‘And you, Mother,’ Nutter replied politely.

  ‘Hi, hiiiiii,’ cooed the leather-clad lady, waggling her fingers to Nutter and the children. The vicar put his arm around her neck, kicked the church window open, and the two disappeared into the sound of blaring rock m
usic from within.

  The three walked away from church slowly. Oliver was very deep in thought, and so was Nutter.

  ‘Far away from the market,’ trilled Nutter nervously. ‘Err, I am not sorry about that...’

  ‘Huh?’ said Oliver. (He felt light headed yet happy, and he didn’t know why; but he did know he wanted to be alone with his thoughts.)

  ‘Don’t worry, Nutter,’ said Lois sarcastically. ‘He’ll return to being annoying shortly.’

  ‘Lois, please don’t listen. I am not sorry about the... well, freak. It is not cruel to parade someone around, who people will clearly not make fun of.’ Nutter sighed and shook his head sadly.

  ‘The vicar?’ Oliver asked.

  Nutter stopped and looked at Oliver seriously. ‘Yes, the vicar. I mean... oh, that poor lucky girl.’ He closed his eyes and shook his head in deep sorrow again.

  Lois looked to Oliver with a manic smile and whispered. ‘He thinks that girl is hideous. OMG. He thinks she is, well, the Elephant Man!’

  Oliver had worked this out too and began to laugh. A big belly-breaking, joyous laugh - the type that makes you feel all warm and lovely inside for at least five minutes afterwards.

  * * *

  ‘Last, I don’t need money,’ said Nutter, pointing to a building that had a big sign that read, “HORRID WEST.”

  ‘Must be a bank,’ Lois mumbled.

  ‘This’ll be interesting,’ said Oliver.

  The three walked through the window into the building.

  The bank tellers - well, Oliver supposed they were tellers because they all wore uniforms back to front that said “Horrid West” on them - sat at an open table, sobbing joyfully. In front of them, without anyone watching, were piles and piles of cash. No glass windows, no cameras, nothing between the customers and the copious quantities of cash.

  There was also, strangely, a table of buttons and tropical fruit. A security guard sat at the back of the building reading a magazine titled “Bad Housekeeping.”

  Oliver then realised that the bank had a disco ball on the ceiling and the walls were covered in pink floral wallpaper (similar to his nana’s house). On these warm, welcoming walls were posters promoting the services Horrid West had to offer. They read things like, “Go Off! Don’t Ask Us About Our Big Business Loans! Many Questions Asked!” Under this was a picture of a man in a back-to-front suit, smiling so widely his face looked as if it might split in half. He was standing on his head, on a surfboard!? Why?

  Another poster read, “Want to get off the Property Ladder? 0.001% Interest. We Always Say No!” Under this statement was a cartoon-style drawing of an upside-down house accompanied by a toothy, grinning family. For some bizarre reason, the family members all had heads that were disproportionately large for their bodies. Under this strangely familiar-looking advertisement was the caption. “This is not your castle, this is not your world, and we couldn’t give a tiny rat’s bottom!”

  Oliver was beginning to enjoy these posters so looked for another to laugh at, however soon regretted his curiosity. The next one had a badly drawn image of OLIVER and LOIS! Oliver’s caricature was him laughing as he strangled a snake that looked similar to Rex. Lois’ was her looking like she was edging him on. The caption read “NOT WANTED FOR NOT BEING INNOCENT MAINLANDERS WHO DO NOT POSE AN UNTHREATENING RISK TO OUR WAY OF DEATH.”

  ‘Goodbye, I don’t need money,’ said Nutter to the tellers, who hadn’t seen the warrant for his new mainland friend’s arrest. Oliver keeping his head down grabbed Lois’ arm to get her attention then frantically pointed to the poster.

  One of the staff broke from her happy conversation with her colleague, casually turning to look at Nutter. Then she shook her head without saying anything.

  Nutter walked backwards to the table of buttons and fruit and picked up a pineapple.

  The staff stopped what they were doing. Lois who had pushed her red hair all over her face and Oliver who had pushed his collar up around his chin, both held their breath.

  ‘That is not a big withdrawl,’ said one of the tellers to Nutter, who moments before had been filing her nails.

  ‘Oh, let him leave iiiit!’ said another teller smiling, playing with her hair. Her legs were up on the table. She seemed so serene and delighted to be at work she could have been sunning herself on a beach, drinking a cocktail.

  Nutter was looking at the sobbing, giggling tellers; pineapple mid-air.

  ‘Oh, stay-on then,’ said the first teller, shaking her head cheekily. ‘You can’t have it.’

  ‘Not thanks,’ smiled Nutter.

  ‘GET UP! THIS AINT A ROBBERY!’ screamed a fierce voice.

  Oliver snapped out of his thoughts about the church lady and grabbed Lois. Nutter squeaked and dropped the pineapple, which landed and rolled in a circle on the floor.

  Standing there were two angry looking men dressed in bright pink, with matching bright-pink ski masks. The security guard yawned and continued to read his magazine.

  ‘KEEP MOVING, OR I WON’T SHOOT!’ screamed one of the robbers.

  What he would shoot with, Oliver wasn’t sure; they were both clutching teddy bears.

  ‘Okay,’ said one of the tellers cautiously. ‘Keep warm. We are heroes, man. We’ll stop you!’

  Suddenly, one of the pink-clad robbers put his hand in his pocket, pulled out a wad of cash, and threw it at the teller. The other robber joined him in the cash throwing. It was raining money. The tellers started to scream and threw their arms over their heads to protect themselves.

  One robber looked around as he walked frontward’s to the door. The other robber, with a trembling hand pulled out something from his pocket. Oliver held his breath expecting a gas-bomb or grenade but was surprised to see the robber was now counting out copper coins. He then, his hand shaking so much a few coins dropped, handed the remainder to a teller. Her face was like that of someone smelling something horrible. Whimpering, she took his coins reluctantly then placed them down gingerly on her desk, like they were little copper explosives.

  He then looked to his fellow robber and screamed, ‘STAY, STAY, STAAAAAAY!’

  The two robbers bobbed about on their heels, covert-style, making sure the coast was clear - then they ran like the wind, out of the door, backwards.

  The tellers started to laugh in anguished tones, tears streaming down their faces. They hugged each other as if their lives depended on it. The security guard had nodded off during the commotion.

  Nutter sighed, casually picked up his pineapple, and skipped backwards to the bank door.

  ‘Hellooooo! Not thanks,’ he chimed, like nothing had happened.

  One teller laughed at Nutter in tears and feebly waved at him, shaking her head in sorrow. Oliver and Lois were so nervous now, they could have been cats. They followed Nutter, moving their heads around waiting for the next shock.

  ‘I really, really, really want to GO HOME!’ Lois barked to Oliver.

  ‘Me too!’

  ‘This is aalllllll your fault!’ Lois said, on the brink of tears.

  ‘What!?’ yelped Oliver. ‘Y-you said -’

  ‘THERE YE, THERE YE!’ came a regal voice. ‘PEOPLE NOT OF THE VILLAGE, IGNORE THE ADDRESS FROM THE TOWN MAYOR!’

  ‘Oh, baddie,’ said Nutter, clapping. ‘I hate Politicians.’

  ‘Err Nutter, seems Lois and I err, are not wanted by the err law...’

  Nutter had completely ignored Oliver and was looking about in anticipation.

  Oliver then realised what Nutter had just said and what it meant. After listening to the things his father had always said about politicians, this came as a genuine surprise. Maybe as things were so backwards here, that poster meant they were heroes! That they were not facing arrest and were perhaps in line for a reward!

  The villagers were now wa
lking backwards to a very large cardboard box that had “MUD BOX” written on it. The gathering whispered to each other in excited tones, and Nutter was all a-fluster. They crowded around, rearwards, to the Mud Box, and then suddenly a trumpet blew. Everyone hushed...

  A very young portly looking woman waddled into the arena using a walking stick. She walked backwards, of course. She wore baggy track pants, a hoody top and basketball-style trainers. With help, she stepped up onto the cardboard box and turned her back. She cleared her throat and then popped some gum into her mouth, chewing loudly.

  Each person, in silence, turned their back.

  ‘Many not thanks for going awaaaaay,’ she drawled. ‘I am not here to propose my old policies.’

  ‘Oooeeeewwwwwww,’ chorused the crowd.

  ‘I lie to you all that there will be no employment.’

  ‘Boooooooooooo.’

  ‘I lie to you all, tax increases.’

  ‘Boooooooooooo.’

  ‘I lie to you all, massive budget cuts for schools!’

  ‘Boooooooooooo.’

  ‘I lie to you all, more crime!’ Then in a whisper and very quickly, ‘I am happy to say lower expenses for us politicians. Hello!’

  ‘Boooooo. Ahhh. Yaaaayyy. Whaaaaah?’

  The mayor was already leaving and became a blur of track-suit fleece, heading toward a side exit.

  ‘How horrible,’ Nutter said in a tone of awe.

  Oliver knew, obviously, that everything the mayor had just said was backwards, so he giggled to himself.

  ‘You know she is lying - err, I mean telling you the truth,’ Oliver winked to Nutter.

  Nutter looked confused, and then smiled. ‘I know what you’re not saying... erm, here on Opposite Island, our politicians have to lie, err, for you tell the truth. It is not the way of things here.’

  Lois blinked at Nutter, smiling in shock. She turned to Oliver. ‘I think mum and dad would like it here!’

  The Horrid Market

  They finally came to an outdoor market - the type Oliver had only seen on Eastenders. People stood at stalls selling a variety of things and shouting out sales pitches to passing customers like: “Don’t come over ‘ere, love. I ain’t got the worst deal for ya! ‘Ere, leave a bag of apples. For you, deeds to your house!”