For your further edification I present the following tale of woe. Prepare yourself, gentle reader, for the grisly saga of Alexander Gordon Smith (author of the awesome FURNACE: LOCKDOWN, reviewed here) and his valiant, imaginative yet sadly doomed attempts to rescue us all from captivity.
His last words as he disappeared head-first into the bucket of monster solids were “It reads better if you imagine The Two Ronnies singing it.” Let us hope these cryptic words don’t prove to be this terrific author’s epitaph.
NOW READ ON…
by Alexander Gordon Smith
Eight intrepid authors met up one winter night,
To write a book of horror lore and give the kids a fright.
It was meant to be a tome of monster pain and slaughter,
A terrifying nightmare for our nation’s sons and daughters.
(Yet soon it would be these poor souls who found out about torture!)
Trapped by monsters in a cave, so far beneath the ground,
That even when they screamed for help we could not hear a sound.
Forced to do their captors’ bidding in their cells of slime,
Made to write – dear god forbid – poetry that rhymes!
(And doomed to serve their beastly masters till the end of time…)
They’re only let out now and then to spread the monsters’ word:
“We monsters truly aren’t that bad” – it’s really quite absurd!
On such a day, in London Town, I met Sam Enthoven,
And nervously he challenged me to come up with a plan.
(“Get us out, for heavens sake – just save us if you can!”)
Now I really am no hero, I’m the opposite of brave.
“There is no blooming way,” I said, “I’m going near that cave!”
But then I watched as poor old Sam was dragged into the drains,
By a brutish beast with forty toes that loved inflicting pain.
(And then I vowed: “Sam don’t you fear, you’ll see the sun again!”)
My first plan of action was to blow up all the doors,
So I packed my bag with detonators, fuses and C4.
I’d blast their prison open, my brilliant plan was flawless!
Until I went and realised that the bloomin’ cave was doorless…
(The cells are locked up tight with goo, it’s really quite a raw mess.)
Plan B: trick the monsters, it couldn’t fail to work!
“Sam,” I said, “just dress up like an ogre gone berserk.”
Sam spread himself with bogeys, an incredible disguise,
He was so convincing that the monsters let him by!
(Until Gwyneth took a fancy and made herself his bride!)
Next I thought I’d bake a cake and smuggle in a file,
Those eight pour souls could saw right through their windows with a smile!
But I passed the cake to Gurt Theeg, that wretched bad luck goblin,
And the goblin gobbled it down his throat, even with the file in!
(And judging by his groans of pain it’s filing his intestines…)
“Ali, why don’t you charm them with some of your poetry?
Sing them a nice lullaby and make them go to sleep.”
She composed a masterpiece and sung it to her guard,
But when he fell asleep she didn’t manage to get far.
(The beast had fallen on her and squished her with his a*$e!)
I started watching prison shows to get some fresh ideas,
And thought of drugging monsters with some chloroform tortillas.
It would have knocked them out for hours on that cold cave flooring,
But Joe scoffed all the poisoned snacks, it really was appalling.
(He’s been asleep for three weeks now and hasn’t once stopped snoring!)
“Why don’t you try and sneak out through the prison laund-er-y?
Jump into the trolley and then soon you’ll be home free!”
Andy followed my advice, he thought he had a chance,
But ended up beneath a pair of slimy monster pants.
(He needed to be rescued by a digger and some clamps!)
I told Mark and David: “You can get out through the sewer!”
Not knowing that inside it was a world-class monster poo-er.
As soon as they dropped through their loo they found it overflowing.
Are they still alive down there? There is no way of knowing!
(Except for the occasional sound of something human groaning…)
“Tommy, try to start a fire and set off the alarms.
You’ll be evacuated before you all come to harm.”
But the instant that he lit a match and held it to some dry rot,
A monster aimed his snozzle in, extinguishing it with snot!
(And now poor Tommy’s covered, there really was a lot.)
“I know what to do,” I cried. “Tunnel through the walls!”
But when Barry tried to do so he found there was no wall at all –
His cell was a vast stomach, a gooey gloop of guts,
Belonging to a monster who had tried to eat him up.
(“Argh, the only way I can escape is crawling out its butt!”)
Oh dear, Oh dear, Oh dear, I thought, this isn’t going well,
All I’ve done is make those writers sleep or sink or smell.
If I’m going to break them out I’ll have to risk my health,
Sneak into the prison, take those monsters on myself.
(And hope that I’m rewarded with a great degree of wealth.)
So that very afternoon I ventured to their lair,
With every single trembling step I’d offer up a prayer.
With stakes and silver bullets, and holy water too,
I stepped into that cave to do just what I had to do…
(Although quite how to do it? I didn’t have a clue!)
The moment that I entered, I came under attack,
I knew I was in trouble but there was no turning back!
My weapons were all useless, the beasties were too tough,
My holy water scared them but it just wasn’t enough.
(Though it did manage to make them smell a little less like guff!)
Then just when things seemed futile, when I thought that I was dead,
I threw down all my weapons and tried something else instead.
Monsters do love poems, perhaps they’d like this one?
And whilst I read it out to them my dear old friends could run!
(And somehow we would ambush them as soon as I was done.)
So I began to read aloud, the monsters crowded round,
The writers slipped out of their cells, they didn’t make a sound!
As soon as I had finished I said, “Now it’s time to fight!
Come on writers, finish this… Let’s give these beasts a fright!
(Er… Hello? Is anybody there? Please don’t leave me behind!”)