Edgar Ragged - King Dong

by

This novel is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination and are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons or primates, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

HarperNonFiction

A division of HarperCollins Publishers Ltd. 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF www.harpercollins.co.uk

Published by HarperCollins Publishers 2005

Copyright © Edgar Rider Ragged 2005

Edgar Rider Ragged asserts the immoral right to remain unidentified.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

HarperCollins Publishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with all contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication

Source ISBN: 9780007208128

Ebook Edition © Jul 2013 ISBN: 9780007524686

Version: 2017-01-18

And the Prophet said, And lo, the Beast looked upon the face of Beauty. And Beauty said unto the Beast, ‘You lookin’ at me, pal? Stitch that!’ And from that day, the Beast was as one dead.

Old Glaswegian proverb

Title Page KING DONG by

Copyright

Epigraph

CHAPTER ONE Rumbuggery on the Lash

CHAPTER TWO Deadman’s Tales

CHAPTER THREE A Motley Crew

CHAPTER FOUR Bones of Contention

CHAPTER FIVE Tall Tales and a Big Whopper

CHAPTER SIX Welcome to Dongland

CHAPTER SEVEN By Hook and by Crook

CHAPTER EIGHT Virgin and the Ridiculous

CHAPTER NINE A Taste of Marzipan

CHAPTER TEN Monkey Business

CHAPTER ELEVEN Heeerrre’s Dongie!

CHAPTER TWELVE Beauty and the Beast?

CHAPTER THIRTEEN Gorilla Warfare

CHAPTER FOURTEEN Plots and Pans

CHAPTER FIFTEEN Do Drop In

CHAPTER SIXTEEN Dong Goes Ape

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN Sing Alonga Dong

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN Dong Flops

CHAPTER NINETEEN So Long, Dong

Epilogue

About the Publisher

In the bustling port of Old Hokum, an old tramp lay against the quay, filthy, neglected, rust-streaked and leaking from every seam.

The ship that loomed above him was in pretty poor shape, too.

Seeing the bobbing approach of a watchman’s lantern, the old tramp corked the brown bottle he had been holding to his cracked lips and croaked out a hail. ‘Say, friend, what ship is that?’

The watchman was bored, and disposed to be chatty. ‘The Vulture. Sailing tomorrow.’

The old tramp waved his bottle towards the ship. ‘They lookin’ for any hands?’

The watchman held up his lamp and gazed at the questioner’s impressive collection of liver spots and elephant’s scrotum wrinkles. ‘Now see here, old timer, you don’t want to be taken on to that crew, if half of what they say is true.’

The old tramp blinked his rum-reddened eyes and gave a hacking cough. ‘What do they say?’

‘Why, that the captain of this old rust-bucket has hired it to Carl Deadman, the motion picture producer who’s always going off to the most crazy dangerous places he can find to make movies about the world’s deadliest critters with scant regard for the lives or sanity of his men, and he’s setting off tomorrow for an unknown destination with a highly dangerous cargo and a crew of the worst collection of low-life wharf-rats and plug-ugly desperadoes anyone has ever seen, that’s what they say. Why d’you ask?’

‘Come to think of it, no idea.’ The old tramp picked a louse from his beard. ‘How come you gave me such a detailed answer?’

‘I think we’re supposed to set the scene by providing an opening narrative thread and establishing an atmosphere of mystery and foreboding while at the same time adding a little local colour …’ The watchman broke off. The old tramp was making painful retching noises as his 100 per cent rubbing alcohol diet got the better of him, decorating the quay with a little local colour of his own. Shaking his head, the watchman moved on.

On board the SS Vulture , Captain Rumbuggery poured himself another glass of rotgut liquor with a shaking hand, and made a desperate attempt to focus on Carl Deadman. The movie producer was pacing the Captain’s insanitary cabin, from wall to rust-streaked wall, furiously chewing on the end of a cheap cigar. A fug of tobacco smoke and alcohol fumes had turned the air into a sickly pale-green mist.

Deadman paused in his perambulation and whirled to face Rumbuggery, slapping his hand down upon the desk. With a drunk’s instinct, Rumbuggery lifted his glass from the tabletop just in time to prevent its being knocked over.

‘I tell you, Skipper,’ growled Deadman, ‘sometimes I just can’t figure the movie business. I’ve been out with you on two expeditions to the ends of the Earth. Each time, I’ve brought back a swell film – and the public, rot them, just don’t want to know. I ask you! I put everything into those pictures – blood, sweat tears, even money – and what happens? An Exciting Movie About a Big Strong Elephant was box-office poison and A Thrilling Story About a Big Fierce Lion didn’t even open in the top theatres. How could pictures like that fail?’

Captain Rumbuggery gave a lurid belch. ‘I’m flying a kite here,’ he slurred, ‘y’know, jusht running up the flagpole and sheeing if anyone drops his pantsh – but could the titlesh have anything to do with it?’