Robert Rankin - The Brentford Chainstore Massacre

Cain stared into the eyes of Dr Steven Malone. “And you do not think that God will strike you dead for this? For surely you seek to commit the ultimate blasphemy.”

“No, Cain, I do not. For God does know all and God exists outside time. God knew, before the dawn of creation, that his son would die upon the cross. So he also knew of the Turin Shroud and of the blood and of twentieth-century science. All this is for a purpose. Ultimately God’s purpose. The difference between myself and others who believe in God is that I deny God’s divinity. I do not believe that God is to be worshipped, I believe that God is THE BIG IDEA. What will come when I clone God is of God’s purpose. I am following his passive will.”

“The man’s a frigging space cadet,” said Abel.

“No,” said Cain, “I don’t think he is.”

Howl, shriek and scream.

Having three lead guitarists who played three different lead guitar solos simultaneously gave the Hollow Chocolate Bunnies a certain edge.

Norman had his earplugs in, so he wasn’t too bothered about edges. He was focused on his rather splendid switchboard. This was covered, as switchboards so often are, with switches. Each of these had a little label above it. On one the words Big Rockets were pencilled, on another Catherine Wheels, on yet another Starfires, and on yet another still, Golden Showers.

Cables led from the switchboard up the scaffolding at the rear of the stage to a gloriously ramshackle framework to which were attached hundreds of Roman candles arranged to spell out WELCOME TO THE YEAR 2000. All at the flick of a switch, of course. Norman did further screwdriver twiddlings, then looked upon all that he had made and found it good. He turned to the groundsman and grinned. “We’re rocking and rolling here,” he said. “Now please take your willy out of my machine.”

“A bull’s heart?” said Clive. “He stuck his willy in a bull’s heart?”

Derek grinned. “That’s what it said in this article I read. He’d wired it up to make it beat. But he’d wired it up to the mains and he was electrocuted to death. When they found him he was fried. Looked like a doner kebab.”

“Or a beefburger,” said Clive. “But I still don’t believe it.”

“It’s true. I read it in Fortean Times”

“Then it must be true. So where is Mr Pooley?”

“Here it comes,” said Fred.

And here Jim came.

Jim had his head down, a flat cap like Fred’s pulled low over his face. He walked in a curious manner as of one tiptoeing along. As of one who is very drunk, doing his best to pretend that he’s sober, perhaps? The Car was parked across the street from Professor Slocombe’s house. Pooley tiptoed up against it and knelt down. The electrically operated window on Fred’s side swished down into the door.

“You’d best get a move on,” said Fred.

Pooley leaned into The Car. “Are you all right, Suzy?” he asked. “Have they done anything to you?”

“I’m fine, Jim. Just get me out of here, please.”

“I love you, Suzy.”

“I love you, Jim.”

Fred pressed the button and the window rose.

“Just do what I told you,” said Fred. “Take the bag into the Professor’s circle. I’ll know if you don’t.”

Professor Slocombe stood within the sacred circle, performing the Ritual of the Star Sapphire.

Bowing to the East, he said, “Pater et Mater unus deusArarita.” To the South, “Mater et Filius unus deusArarita.” To the West, “Filius et Filia unus deusArarita.” To the North, “Filia et Pater unus deusArarita.”

Jim Pooley stumbled across the street towards the Professor’s garden door.

“He’s going for it,” said Derek.

Fred pulled up the aerial on the little black box device and watched the little red blip that was Pooley move across the screen. “He’d better,” said Fred. “Or I’ll blow his frigging hat off.”

“This is going to blow their socks off” Norman flicked the switch labelled Big Rockets and the first of the big rockets shot into the sky. Starbursts and great chrysanthemum flares crackled over Brentford.

“Oooooooooo,” went the stadium crowd. Even above the roar of the Hollow Chocolate Bunnies.

“Oooooooooo,” went Clive, peering out through the tinted windscreen. “Fireworks.”

“There very soon will be,” said Fred.

And not fifty yards away in the basement of Kether House, Dr Steven stood in profile, pointing. “Go Father and Mother one god Ararita. Mother and Son one god Ararita. Son and Daughter one god Ararita. Daughter and Father one god Ararita. *”

“Into the chamber, Cain,” he said.

Cain glanced at the chamber. It had the look of a large glass shower cubicle. There were two chairs in it. These were bolted to the floor. On one wall of the cubicle was a canister with a tiny stopcock. The canister was marked POISON.

“Death chamber,” said Cain. “You would really kill us, father?”

“I must do what has to be done.”

“I understand. I myself did what had to be done.”

“You? What did you do?”

“I helped a man called Pooley. A man who is in love. I helped him so that something wonderful could happen. Something I could feel in the air.”

“Enough of this nonsense, Cain. Get into the chamber. I order you to do it. Obey my command.”

“You really think we’re going in there?” sneered Abel. “Get real, you twat.”

“You are powerless to resist. I have programmed your minds. Put you into deep trance again and again. I now command you to enter the chamber.”

Cain walked slowly across the basement floor and entered the chamber. Abel twitched and shook, but he too, with faltering steps, followed Cain.

With faltering steps Jim Pooley approached the Professor’s French windows. From within came the sound of the magician’s voice rising higher, calling out the Latin phrases that would herald the new dawn. Bringing the ceremony to its climax. For the most part, though, these were drowned by the screams and whistles and bangs of Norman’s firework display.

Jim reached into his pocket and pulled out the wriggling bag and then he pressed his fingers to the blackly daubed French windows.

“No, Jim.” A hand grasped his wrist.

Jim turned. “John?”

“Don’t do it, Jim. Whatever it is, don’t do it.”

“I have to, John. What are you doing here?”

“I heard about you being thrown from the limo. Suzy’s gone missing. I put two and two together. They’ve got her, haven’t they? They’re blackmailing you to destroy the ceremony.”

“Let me do it my way, John. I have it under control.”

“Oh no you don’t, Jim. A man in love is never in control.”

“I know what I’m doing. Leave it, John.”

“No, Jim. I won’t let you.”

Jim swung round and hit John in the face with something hard. Omally went down and Jim pushed open the French windows.

“He’s going inside,” said Fred, watching Jim’s little blip. “He’s going to do it.”

“And now you are inside,” said Dr Steven Malone. “And now I must do what must be done.”

“Don’t do it, father, please.”

“Have no fear, Cain. You return to God. You become God once more.”

“I have no fear for myself, father, or for Abel. My fear is for you.”

“Waste not your fear then. Because I have none at all.” Dr Steven Malone bolted the chamber door and turned the stopcock on the canister of poison gas.

“Yes!” cried Fred. “He’s entering the circle. He’s entering the circle.”

John Omally lurched into consciousness, clutched at his jaw and shook his head. The French windows were open, and a bright light shone from within. John dragged himself to his feet and fought to enter the Professor’s study, but the light held him back, pushed him away. “Dear God, no,” cried John. “No.”