The sequel is here! Btw, if you haven't read "Too Far To The Boosh" then you need to go and read it now, as this will make absolutely no sense to you otherwise. A load of the plot will be linked back to the previous story as well.
Right, well I wrote this, and I couldn't stop writing it, and then Hattie (violence4) told me I HAD to put it up so here it is :P she is my justification, so if you are deeply offended by anything in this story, you can file your complaints straight to her :D
Oh, and I had to make refrence to Noel's new haircut. If any of you haven't seen it, then grab a box of tissues, some ice cream, and go in search for pics. (fyi, I am just getting over it and have decided that it's cute, and I want to ruffle it)
...and right through Saturday, we continue with this unseasonably warm weather. It's at it's hottest in the south, with the capital feeling temperatures that top thirty degrees...
Noel sighed, resting his chin on his folded arms and staring out of the window. Now he remembered why he never listened to the radio...they just pointed out the obvious. Was he meant to be shocked at this news? Oh god, it's warm, I never could have guessed from my intuition alone!
He chuckled to himself and ran the back of his hand along his forehead, brushing off the forming beads of sweat and briefly wondering how well lynx deodorant would work if it was applied to your face. It was definitely the worst day to be sat inside. Yet there he was, confined to his own house for reasons that he didn't reckon were worth boiling to death.
"Come on Noel, stop staring out of the window and please try!" It was Julian. Complaining from the other end of the sofa, his hair ruffled from running his hands through it out of sheer agitation.
"This is trying!" Noel retorted, picking up his beer and finding, with obvious disgust, that it had already turned luke-warm as a result of sitting on the window sill in full view of the vicious sunshine.
"That isn't trying. That is looking of the window and throwing your drink a dirty look," he threw a pad of lined paper in the direction of Noel's lap, "we've been given an advance on this...we can't just not do it!" Julian reached over and clicked the power button on the radio, plummeting the room into an empty silence. The only sounds were the birds chirping and Noel's sighs of discomfort and frustration.
"I know...I know..." muttered Noel, but he didn't touch the pad of paper.
"You don't seem like you know. If we don't write this stuff, then we have to pay them back the advance...and I'm guessing that new shirt wasn't a great bargain from some charity shop..."
Noel's phone gave an impatient bleep, and he picked it up happily, glad to cut off the conversation he was having with Julian, which had the potential to turn into a particularly unpleasant argument. He felt another sigh build in his chest when he read the message. Another offer from a friend to go and enjoy the weather, rather than sitting cooped up in his stuffy living room, slaving over a script that was never going to get written.
He pulled at his new ludicrously expensive shirt, grimacing at the way it clung to his body in the heat, wishing and willing his mind to come up with something that could be written on the paper in front of him. Usually Noel came up with ideas all the time, when he was in the shower, when he was brushing his teeth, when he was just making plans with his friends, but now his mind seemed completely empty. All he could think of was how he was sure this shirt was dry clean only, and if he could be bothered to walk to the kitchen for another drink.
Julian didn't feel much better. He was feeling distinctly like Noel's father. Sat over him, telling him he wasn't allowed to go out and play because he had homework to do. It wasn't a foreign feeling to him, but it was certainly one that he never enjoyed, especially seen as he was being a horrible hypocrite. His sheet of paper was blank too.
"Maybe we could fake our own deaths," said Noel, his idea appearing suddenly in the heavy air.
"What, Howard and Vince?" asked Julian, with an edge of excitement that there might be something to scribble on the pages in front of him.
"No, maybe we could fake our own deaths," Noel suggested, like it was a completely sensible idea, the non-writing end of his pen resting on his bottom lip. "It's the only way out of this. They would feel so sorry for us, they wouldn't want their advance back."
"Flaw in your plan..." smiled Julian, giving Noel a poke in the side with his pencil.
"You won't be able to be such a massive attention whore if you're dead...the irony would be that you would then die as a result of the paparazzi's neglect."
A carefully embroidered cushion flew through the air and into the side of Julian's head. The thrower gave a mock shock gasp that was all teeth and grin.
"Don't be such a berk," taunted Noel, "I won't be neglected! I'll be like Princess Dianna, I'll crop up in a news story every few days." He put on a phoney news reported voice. "Breaking news! Noel Fielding is still dead. The entire world is going in to a sort of apocalyptic shock as a result of this tragedy."
Julian leaned over to deliver a few more pokes from the sharp end of a pencil, trying to get Noel to drop his false received pronunciation.
"Oi!" (it worked) "You'll get lead on my new shirt!"
"It's graphite," Julian pointed out, setting down his pencil and throwing the cushion back.
Noel offered him a haughty look. "Only you could ever point that out...well lead, graphite or whatever the contents of your pencil, it's going to end up on my shirt if you're not careful!"
Julian smirked. "Well at least then people will be asking what is on your shirt, instead of asking what the hell you've done to your hair." He picked up a cushion and held it in front of his body, anticipating the assault that Noel was sure to deliver after hearing that comment. Unfortunately, the body protector didn't work, as the assault came in the form of a brutal dead arm punch.
"My hair is fine!" shrieked Noel in defence, yet he was unable to stop his hand from creeping up to his head and examining his short crop.
"I'm sure it's beautiful," Julian poked his tongue out of the corner of his mouth, reaching to tug on a lock of hair before Noel could pull away. "I just like to bring out your insecurities from time to time."
"What insecurities?" Noel grinned proudly, pretending to flex his biceps and flick an imaginary long fringe out of his eyes.
Julian couldn't help but laugh. "You are such a pri-" His comment was silenced with another cushion.
Before the long, the two of them were exhausted from laughing too much. Cushions had landed haphazardly about the room and they lay on the floor, panting from the heat of the afternoon and clutching aching ribs from their hysterics. The pads of lined paper had been lost in the middle of their mock wrestling match, somewhere down the back of the sofa. Noel decided that was where he wanted to keep his workload, hidden behind the upholstery.
They lay there for a while, occasionally chasing up the silence with a giggle and happy sigh from the nostalgia of the earlier jibes at each other. Noel turned on his side, intending to say something meaningful and potent about how he and Julian always had such a good laugh together, and he was glad they were friends. But for some reason, what Noel intended to say never came out of his mouth, and all he could do was stare blankly at a painting on the wall of his living room. His own painting.
A thought hit him like a punch in the arm. His breath couldn't help but leave him.
"What?" Julian asked after hearing Noel gasp.
"I have just had the most amazing idea in the entire world!" Squealed Noel, barely able to get the world out for his absolute excitement.
"In the entire world?" Asked Julian doubtfully, but he turned on to his side in order to look Noel in the face. He couldn't help but feel a tingling of anticipation when he saw the shining in his friend's ice blue eyes.
"Seriously, in the world!" He leapt up from his position on the floor and began dancing around the room, jumping on and off the sofas in huge leaps and not stopping when he knocked his warm beer off the window sill. The bottle thunked on to the floor and the liquid slowly spread, staining the carpet.
"Noel, your beer!" Yelled Julian in an attempt to sober his friend. He pulled himself into a sitting position and grabbed the bottle off the floor, standing up to put it on a high shelf and out of harm's way, aka Noel. "Stop jumping about and tell me this idea!"
But Noel didn't stop. He kept on dancing, now doing several demented leaps into the air. "It's brilliant!" He yelled, grabbing Julian's hands and swinging him around, trying to get him to dance too. "No more writer's block for us Ju, not when you hear my plan!"
Julian stumbled about, attempting to pull free from Noel's grasp. "What? What is your plan?" He practically begged. He sat down on the sofa, pulling Noel down with him.
"Well..." Noel took a deep breath, just managing to suppress excited laughter. "Well...we're going to take a journey through time and space!"
Julian squinted, trying to understand how quoting the Boosh's title song solved their writer's block "What do you mean?" He finally gave up trying to figure out the meaning for himself.
Noel took another deep breath. He closed his eyes and opened them again, setting reflections dancing energetically in his iris'. A smile played on his lips, twitching the corner gently and showing flashes of teeth.
"I mean, grab your jacket and your wallet. We're going to go and get our storyline!"
Before Julian had a moment to make clear that he still didn't understand, Noel had leapt up from the sofa. He sprinted to the kitchen and began searching through a bunch of endless keys that were hung up near his back door. He examined each one carefully, clearly looking for a distinguishing feature. With a little jump and an "aha!", he found the right key and began clumsily working it off the key ring.
"I still don't get you..." Julian said, a tinge of annoyance beginning to grow in his voice.
Noel smiled as the correct key finally lay in the palm of his hand. "We're going to the Boosh Ju...well you're going to the Boosh...I'm going back to the Boosh!" He gave a sigh of exasperation at his friend's still puzzled expression. He held the key up for him to see, and the sunlight reflected off it cinematically, glimmering against the grimy metal. "This, my friend, is the key to my old bike chain. That bike chain, dear Julian, is keeping a certain phone box locked up tight."
Julian's face turned from puzzlement to panic in a second flat.
The smile that had been playing on Noel's lips now appeared fully, spelling out excitement and mischief. "Come with me, to the Mighty Boosh!" He sang, wearing a playful smile reminiscent of his alter-ego.