To catch up read this.
“Oi mate, would you like to take a trip? Anywhere, any dimension – £4.78.”
“Wha..?” replied Arnold snapping back into reality.
Upset that he’d left his day-dream of sunshine, heat and Newtfest 2011 he looked about. The car park was still as dark and dreary as it had been when he left so there was no way he could take off any of his eight layers. This is especially bad as newts like to feel free at all times. The loud hum emitting from the glowing orange teleport screen was beginning to do Arnold’s nut in so like all the best decisions, he made a snap one.
“Yes, I would like to take a trip – get me to America.”
“You wanna do it? Man give me a minute – I have to find the instruction book.”
Arnold got back in his car whilst he considered the attendant’s teleport knowledge. Safe from the cold in the mountain rescue Landrover he began to panic. He got flashbacks; the hasty sign, the eight deaths and eight customers and the attendant who’s skill level was doubtful. Then he hit his head on the wheel in shock. He hadn’t turned off the light before he left! Imagine the bill! And a new light bulb, oh the horror!
“Bruv, you ready? It’s your lucky day, I just learnt something new. There’s this button you have to press to make it safe. You said America right? I can get you there but I don’t know where you’ll be, I slept through the training session and still got paid – mugs. Now, that £4.78 mate.”
Arnold ventured out into the cold grasping the exact money tightly in his scaly webbed hand. Darren took the cash and looked even more annoyed that it was in small change. Moodily he hit some keys on the 90’s looking computer. The teleport flickered brightly .. for two seconds. Darren looked about as happy as a politician on the public vote of a reality TV show as he dragged his body to the teleport. He kicked it a few times, looked disappointed as nothing happened and kicked it some more. Flying in the face of the Kings of Leon song fifteen kicks seemed to be the magic number as the screen blared bright orange.
“Ok, it’s good – drive through quick like.”
Arnold scurried back to the Landrover and drove through the orange. He braced himself. He was on the other side somewhere. There were roads, trees, even birds – and it was hot! Arnold licked his eyes in joy, he’d beaten the snow and any awkward tongue stuck to eye moments. He drove about for a while on the lonely tarmac, instantly regretting not bringing a summer ensemble. What, newts know fashion to – they just choose often to fly in the face of it. Finally he saw someone. He pulled up alongside him.
“Hey, I’m a bit lost – where am I?” Arnold enquired.
“You’re English! Say ‘banana’ and ‘vitamin.”
Arnold looked blankly before remembering this film he saw one time. Cursing it he hoped for two hot house sharing girls to turn up. Y’know, the film owed him one good thing after this.
“Ba-narna, vit-amin. Not helpful.”
“Dude, get liking that – it’s going to happen. A lot. You’re in Bakersfield, California friend”.
Arnold rolled into town. As he cruised down the shop lined road he basked in the gaze of onlookers. Like a visiting hero clad in arctic levels of clothing in his four-wheel drive steed he understood why they all thought he was awesome. It was time to park up and get some new threads though. Mostly as Arnold was not only flying in the face of fashion like a good newt should but also the on coming traffic. He climbed down from the Landrover and walked into a wall of heat. Arnold then turned back and left seven of the eight layers behind.
So there he was, Arnold the Newt – conquer of snow, working a green YaMaHaRaHaRa t-shirt and some tatty jeans. Sweaty legs, the sign its time to change your attire – and Arnold had them, bad. He walked into a clothes shop, and gravitated instantly to the Hawaiian shirts. Before he knew what was happening Arnold was at the till with a sunset orange shirt covered in red flowers, a pair of denim shorts and sandals. He whipped out his credit card with urgency like a man might after handling chilies, forgetting and then going to toilet. And boom, he was the owner of this … vibrant new outfit. Fashioning the YaMaHaRaHaRa t-shirt into a bandanna he was ready. Leaving the store he looked at the Landrover, saw how content it was and left. Just in time to, he’d walked to another part of town and was chilling by the Fox Theater when he heard the bomb squad had been called in to a suspect vehicle left outside a clothes shop. Too close.
Arnold liked driving though and needed a car. He missed driving, so the adventure continued. He walked round and round until he found a used car dealer. He perused the selection with care, batting off an intensely annoying and needy salesman repeatedly. Then he saw it. A red soft top, it had some great character giving dents. As he looked it was like it was speaking to him. He just knew its name was Osmond. He found the needy salesman who he looked to relieved to have a customer he might need to change his pants. He spent most of his money on the car and felt good fighting the machine in nearly broke ass style.
He got in, started the engine .. four times and played some Pawse through the speakers. Arnold was ready.
To be concluded.