The Petrol Club

By Andy Hill

By Andy Hill

Wilcox opened the letter from The Health Authority (black envelope) and read it three times. He was absolutely furious to be informed that he shared the same blood group as The Lord Mayor Of London. He stormed into the kitchen, unwrapped all of his Kit-Kats and stamped them into the carpet. Ego Mike, who lived downstairs, began shouting and banging on his radiators with a crucifix.

Wilcox had experienced serious problems with Ego Mike and his wife ever since they moved in. There were many disturbances, and when they argued, they would toss jewels from their windows with ignorant hands. Many late nights, Wilcox, who had been taught that it was rude to fight with a lady, was woken by the horrible sound of Mike screaming at his wife.
"You have a black womb!" He yelled.

(Apparently, they were once due to have a child, but the baby was never born, it was 'mysteriously' lost, or somehow absorbed, inside her body).
More disturbingly, they were often visited by a snub-nosed, naturally blonde chinaman.

Ego Mike was a 'kicker': whenever he and Wilcox fought, he would kick out cruelly with massive brogues. Once, he kicked and missed, and his brogue flew off, revealing a bare foot that looked like a huge, soggy ear. Wilcox became afraid and wisely avoided all physical contact with him after that.
So, he stopped the stamping and put on his orange coat. It was his favourite item of clothing (the orange reminded him of ancient planets) and he admired himself in the looking glass before heading out. On his way down he slipped a note under Ego Mike's door, it read:

'Do not be so rude as to pound on your radiators when I am stamping on kit-kats, I have seen you and your wife being horrible to Spock off of Star Trek. You are a dreadful couple and I will go to The Guild if you continue to harass me. From John Wilcox upstairs.'

In the communal hallway, there was a notice on the inside of the front door from The Owner; Mr. Pebbles, asking all residents to be extra cautious, and to please ensure the door was locked at all times, as it seems a woman had come in earlier that week and taken a spider.

Wilcox went, as he did every morning, to the cemetery to pay his respects at the grave of The Captain Of The World. Wilcox was aware that he had a shitty soul, but something in him felt righteous as he knelt before the huge gravestone with its rubbed-out inscription and green moss. This was his special place. Nobody else knew about the grave, or that The Captain had ever lived at all.

After a while, his brain like a black brick in his skull, he walked down the gravel road, jumped over the fence into the meadow and started chasing the cows. They ran off in all directions, electrified like touched rats as Wilcox charged after them, shouting and laughing. He found their Queen hiding behind a bush. He strangled her to death with his belt, before tearing off her wings. He left the rest of the carcass where it lay, knowing that the goblins who lived under the dark rainbow would drag it away when night fell. He carried the wings home, slung over his shoulder. A small monkey ran past, all quiet but holding a gun in each hand. The sun was huge and white in the sky above him.
He put in his sun plugs.

He melted down the wings in a huge cooking pot and stirred in some spit from the famous motorcyclist: Evel Knevel. He stirred and stirred for hours with a ladle, whilst looking out of the window at the horizon. 'I like it,' by Tommy Steele was playing on the radio and hundreds of dragonflies seemed to suddenly be in the room.
After the wings were cooked, he poured their sauce into an upturned frisbee and took it to Spock out of Star Trek who lived with his Mum in the flat upstairs.

Wilcox wanted to cheer Spock and his Mum up because he had heard that she had recently been raped by one of her own kittens (the white one).
Knocking on the door, he shouted: "Spock! It's me, Wilcox! I've cooked you and your Mum some tea!"
"Go away! I'm playing with lego!" Replied Spock immediately from inside his flat.
A kingfisher was watching, sitting on the banister.
"Spock!" Wilcox yelled. "Please open the door! It's burning my hands!"
"We've already eaten!" Spock's Mother shouted. "We've had elephant ham and lobster milk!"
Wilcox began kicking at the door, complaining: "You ungrateful sods! Hours I've spent preparing this meal! Your Mum deserved what happened to her!"
The door flew open and Spock appeared with a ginger perm and a thistle. He lashed out, scratching Wilcox's cheek.
"Agh! You fuckin' bitch!" Screamed Wilcox, dropping the frisbee and splattering the cow-wing-soup all over the carpet and skirting board area.
It was lumpy and bright pink. Beetles seemed to be crawling out of it. There was a smell like despair.
"Stay away from me Wilcox!"
The door hung slightly open behind Spock and Wilcox caught a glimpse of his Mother, looking nasty but stylish, sitting on some sort of perch. A glacier was on the table below her and Spock's lego was all messy in the hallway.
Mr. Pebbles, The Owner came charging up the stairs. He had 'sausage eyes' and had once been a dancing magician. There was a tube coming out of his nose that looped into his fly and appeared to be attached to his penis.
"Stop this!" He ordered. "Stop-it! Wilcox, leave Spock alone!"
But then he slipped on the spilt food and fell flat on his back.
As he started to get up, looking at himself all covered in pink, and saying: "What in the name of .... ," the kingfisher, until that moment just a spectator, went for him.
This particular kingfisher had no beak, but a mouth with orange lips (maybe orange lipstick?) and sharp little teeth, which it used to bite into Mr. Pebble's Adams apple.
"Oh God! Mr. Pebbles! Oh Christ!" Panicked Wilcox, trying to pull the bird off by its hind legs.
As he dragged the kingfisher away, Mr. Pebble's Adams apple was yanked out of his throat, which looked really sore. Spock grabbed the majestic bird by the shoulders and punched it hard in the face. The kingfisher slumped, unconscious, possibly dead, onto the carpet. The Adams apple fell out of its mouth and rolled away and bounced down the stairs.
Wilcox reached out to Pebbles but Spock slapped him away.
"Leave him! You've done enough damage!" He shouted, his face screwed up and nasty. "Fuck off back downstairs to your flat!"
"I'm sorry, I .........."
"Fuck off!" Rasped Mr. Pebbles, holding his neck with both hands. There was no blood, but a thick, brownish liquid covered his white shirt collar and flowed through his nose tube. It looked like golden syrup, but with bits in.
Scared, Wilcox legged it down the stairs.
Spock was shouting after him: "You're useless Wilcox! We don't want you here! You're as unnecessary as mudflaps in paradise! We're gonna get you for Knevel!"
One of the dragonflies had picked up the Adams apple, which looked more like an acorn, and was buzzing out of the window with it. In the distance, he could see a thousand golden trees. He shivered, knowing that beneath each one stood a single, evil child, waiting.
In the night sky, he could just make out the edge of the dark rainbow, where the goblins lived.

Wilcox woke up at 1am. The headrest on his bed was starting to look like a little bush and his telly, in the corner, appeared to be sweating.
A note had been slipped under his door, it was from Ego Mike, downstairs. It read:

"May I remind you that last week my wife caught you touching yourself with one of our spoons in the communal hallway. I also have information that you murdered Evel Knevel. Please do not put notes through our door, or I will make trouble for you. From Ego Mike, downstairs."

There was some commotion going on in the yard so Wilcox went to the window.
Outside it was dark, the moon hung like a pasty grave and the stars were grey. Mr. Pebbles was burying the corpse of the kingfisher. He was dressed like Elvis now, and he was with the man from the chemists, who was trying to give him some sort of advice.
(The matter was still under consideration by The Guild, but Wilcox maintained that he had nothing to do with the death of Evel Knevel, who been found burnt to death, in an ape costume. He claimed that Frank Sinatra had done it, in revenge for Knevel clipping him one time with his handlebars).
He went back to bed and fell asleep once more. He woke up again a few hours later, his cheeks were sore and he was coughing up a beetle. There were voices coming from the yard: Mr. Pebbles and Spock, who was also now dressed as Elvis, were sitting out there, each on the back of a unicorn. The man from the chemists had gone home and the ground was littered with diamonds and silver. Ego Mike and his wife had been arguing again.
(He had met Knevel several times, at The Petrol Club. Knevel had confided in him that he had been born not from his Mum, but out of a giraffe).
Wilcox watched the two men for a while then sighed and went up to Spock's flat, where he beat the actors Mum to death with a demonic looking china doll.
Afterwards, he stood over her body and maimed himself with a bun he'd found in the kitchen, excited by the thought she'd probably made it herself. It felt like a swarm of bee's (possibly wasps) buzzed inside his entire upper body.
(He did bum Evel knevel once. His orgasm was like a rude bubble, and afterwards Knevels arsehole looked like a big knee).
The glacier had melted and when he looked up, he realised the walls of the flat were covered with photographs of shrimps and prawns.
The white kitten was curled on the sofa, purring.

An ambulance came and took Spock's Mum's body away. Spock rode with her and ate the lovely ambulance twiglets. Her corpse was stretched out and she seemed longer. Her arms were like blonde trees. Of course, he'd known she was dead before he found her, he had seen her spirit carried to the fleshy ball of the moon by violent angels (they wore muzzles) as he sat atop the unicorn.

His Mothers heart was beautiful and very selfish but he loved her very much. He even loved her when, as a little boy, she had tried to strangle him with her hair after catching him feeding icing to her stupid octopus. She was the strangest of all mothers, smooth as a slug and becoming very psychic after eating pears.

Early on in her life, she had been embarrassed by a golden marriage to Spocks father and they had, long ago, had another child.
By the time Spock was born, his Father and older brother were gone. His Mother said that they had gone away, all oily, in a big boat after some dispute over payment for a lettuce.

He once found an old photograph under his Mums bed of a man (he thought; his Father) giving a towel to the Prime Minister. The man looked very much like Frank Sinatra, the singer.

He would ask his Mum endless questions about his Father but  she gave no information, except that he would laugh whenever he saw a monkey eat and that he had once electrified the entire ocean.

Sometimes, she claimed that he didn't have a Father at all and that she had become pregnant with Spock after kissing a dragon.

Before he left the hospital, as was customary in those times, a curly haired nurse gave him a magic apple (the apple tree they used grew over a mass grave of murdered Queen cows and was tended, they said, by goblins). The core had been removed by the finest surgeons in all the land and replaced with his mothers dead heart.

Two Guildsmen came and started to question everyone in the building about the murder.
Wilcox sat on his chair, calmly answering their questions (he had, in fact, forgotten for the moment that it was he who had killed Spocks Mum) and offering the two men some small, blue bananas.
"Some of the other residents have said that on the day of the murder, you were seen in the street wearing a finger skirt and saluting a wrestler." Said the one holding a syringe of black liquid.
"Well." Said Wilcox, smiling. "That is incorrect. I was with a handsome stranger, hurting ducks. All day."
Since the Evel Knevel incident, Wilcox had become used to lying to The Guild.
"What if I told you." Said the other man, his fists clenched. "That when we found the old woman, a copper spirit had been embedded in her jaw!"
His eyes were like electronic pin-point needles of blue.
Wilcox shrugged.
One of the men got a message on his walkie talkie, and they had to leave urgently as a hen party, made up entirely of convicted murderers, had been seen trawling the pubs downtown.
"We'll be back, Wilcox." Said the horrible one. "You're not getting away with it. Not this time!"
After they'd gone, Wilcox swallowed one of his own shoes. He could feel it in his stomach, like a big splinter.
He was afraid of coughing the shoe back up, as instinct told him that to do so would be to cough up the devil himself.

Mr. Pebbles, tubes removed, sat upright and in charge, in his favorite chair. A Swing Out Sister album played on the stereo while they enjoyed the moth mutton and moon-dried, minted crab breads. All The Petrol Club were present: Spock, Ego Mike and his wife, the blonde chinaman, the man from the chemists, a dazzling beggar and a few blotchy retards. All except Wilcox.

Wearing a mechanical hat, the beggar was trying to convince the others that Martin Luther King was killed - not because of his civil rights work, but because he once looked at a pony - when Mr. Pebbles interrupted.
"It's time to get down to business. We know why we're all here." Mr. Pebbles was talking out of the tumor that had grown where his penis used to be. The tumor had a small, shiny moustache.
Ego Mike's wife started to speak but had to stop as she coughed up a sherbert bon-bon.
(She now had clockwork ovaries).
"I think we all know," She began again, "that Wilcox killed Evel, Frank Sinatra couldn't have done it. And now that bastard's topped poor Spock's Mum....."
(Frank Sinatra was in Barcelona at the time of Evel's murder, looking at ingots).
They all looked over at Spock, who was crying a bit and stroking one of the cemetery rabbits he had brought back from his Mother's grave.
"I have an idea." Said the blonde chinaman, his left hand was on a suede bible.
He produced from his bag a length of rope that looked like some kind of snakeish, psychic belt.

Wilcox, now with a Purdy-cut, preferred to keep all of his machines in purple water, and had just finished topping up the tanks when there was a knock at the door.
Assuming it was The Gun Monkey (he had ordered a pistol, anticipating trouble, the previous day) he opened the door without first checking the spy-glass, and was confronted by The Petrol Club.
Spock was first to elbow his way in, pidgeon lipped, he had hold of Wilcox by his new haircut, forcing him back into the living room. A sickly beer-child was curled up, eating an oyster in just his pants on the settee, watching 'Daktari.' He looked up with wide eyes as the lynch mob barged in.
"Get out, you silly boy!!!" Shrieked Mr. Pebbles, and the boy ran down into the yard to search for diamonds while they were all busy.
As a group they were very potent and they gave Wilcox a brutal beating with their sweaty fists. The Chinaman strapped him up tightly with his snaky rope, and squirted amoebae's onto areas of his skin.
They trashed his flat infront of his swollen eyes, throwing mercury across the furniture and stuffing cheese into his scart sockets. Spock chased and eventually strangled Wilcox's cat with a peculiar glove that he ordinarily reserved for gesturing at girls.
Wilcox was left, pummeled, half conscious and murmuring on the carpet, amongst the pulped bananas that had grown from the kit kat residue.

He woke at midnight, an Elizabethan raven with dancing eyes sat across his breast. Tied tightly & unable to move, he was aware of goblins and, for some reason, filthy gypsies in the room, climbing in through the window. They were nibbling pennies and black carrots, in as threatening a manner as possible. They regarded him icily from the corners of their eyes, but did not speak.
"Gypo's! Fucking Gypo's! Fuck off you cunts! Fuck off out of my property! Fuck off! Fuck off! .........." He cursed at them, incredulous, but absolutely terrified.
They found the syringe (left behind on a shelving unit by the guildsman), and injected Wilcox, in the scalp, with its' terrible-looking contents.
The other residents of the building, tense and still wide awake, pulled their duvets over their ears to muffle the screaming and commotion.

"Oh, sweet Mother." Spock whispered into his pillow. "What have we done? What have we done?"
Beside him, gleaming green and smooth in the bed was the wonderful apple that enveloped his beloved Mothers heart.

Wilcox, meanwhile, found himself floating across the meadow towards the dark rainbow. Slippery as a week-old corpse, he was held aloft by jubilant, tiny hands. Gypsies lead the way, smoking cocoons. Getting nearer now, he could hear the laughter of the one thousand evil children that stood beneath the golden trees.
"Captain Of The World! Oh, Captain!" He cried. "Father; come and rescue your prodigal son!!!"
The electric buzz of the rainbow grew unbearably loud, and as he entered the photon cloud that surrounded the point at which it touched the earth, he was aware, not of a 'pot of gold', but of Frank Sinatra. The old crooner knelt in his praying pit, hard as nails and kissing a medal. As Wilcox was carried to him, he looked up and opened his arms.
Bald as a Greek gibbon, with an orange mouth and sharp little teeth (like the kingfisher from the banister) Sinatra said: " Velkum home son........."
(He had a bit of a German accent).

Wilcox became aware that he was now a dragonfly, buzzing through the open upstairs window of a familiar house.
There were raised voices: "Oh God! Mr Pebbles! Oh Christ!"
Three men were at he top of the stairs, jostling and grabbing at each others skins in a massive embarrassment of violence.
Wilcox hovered for a second over the shiny, green 'fruit d'homme' before wrapping his six new legs around it and flying back out through the window.
One mans voice followed him as he headed for the trees with his treasure: "You're useless Wilcox! We don't want you here! You're as unnecessary as mudflaps in paradise!"