Chapter 2 An Important Roll Blip was grounded for the best part of a week. It should have been two but he whined and moaned so much, protesting his innocence in the burning soap aff air, eventually his mum and dad couldn’t stand it any longer. As there was a real risk his dad would finally end up strangling him, he was allowed out again. Not that he hadn’t been out of the house, of course. He still had to go to school and twice Mum and Dad had dragged him to the supermarket while they did their shopping. Mum and Dad were shop-a-holics and needed only the slightest excuse to be off to the stores. The trouble was Gavin and Bob were often doing after-school activities like football and basketball so they weren’t always there to ‘baby sit’ Blip. Mum and Dad didn’t want to leave him by himself because, as his mum said, “It’s not that I’m afraid something might happen to Blip if we leave him alone in the house, it’s what might happen to the house that concerns me!” Because of the soap incident, they family now needed not only a new bath, (“I wouldn’t let a pig bathe in that!” his Mum had shouted.) but were also having to have the whole of the dining room re-decorated and re-carpeted. Mum said the cost would have to come out of Blip’s pocket money. “What? I’ll be a hundred and ten years old before I’m paid up!” he wailed. “You’ll have to give me a raise so I can afford to pay it.” Shopping with Mum and Dad was always bad enough but when Dad felt he ought to go in disguise because of the marks and scratches on his face then it got really embarrassing. It was like shopping with the invisible man, when the invisible man didn’t want to walk about invisible, that is. Dad wore Granddad’s old trilby hat and a long ankle length trench coat Mum had bought for him from the Scope Charity shop. Mum had been very pleased because it had only cost £5. Blip was horrified. “Look,” he said, “I’ll give you £5 if you take it back! I mean, just look at it! It’s moth-eaten! He looks ridiculous!” But as Blip wasn’t particularly well known for his fashion sense, his advice was completely ignored. To make matters worse, Dad insisted on wearing dark sunglasses and putting a scarf around his face. Even though it was summer, he put on long motorcycling gloves to cover the scratches on his hands. If he thought all this would make him look inconspicuous he was sadly mistaken. He might as well have put a large placard on his head which read: LOOK AT ME - I’M AN IDIOT! During the fi rst visit to the store nothing much happened, other than other shoppers started to go into little huddles, pointing at Dad and whispering to each other. Dad either didn’t notice it or didn’t care because a couple of days later he was more than happy to go back in the same disguise. He even said to Blip, “See? Nobody took a blind bit of notice.” “Only the blind didn’t notice, you mean.” replied Blip grumpily. When Blip went to school the next day, he overheard some of the children gossiping about the strangely disguised man that had visited Morrison’s during the week. Various rumors were being bandied about as to why the man dressed so weirdly. One boy suggested the man was the first case of leprosy to visit Stockport, while another said perhaps he was a rocket scientist who had been badly burned testing a new moon rocket. Another said that possibly the weird man had been drinking too much orange juice and had turned a bright shade of orange. The rumor Blip really liked though, the one which he thought was the most accurate, was the one that said the man was the result of a bungled medical experiment and was now half-man half-monkey. “Close,” thought Blip, “very close.” When somebody asked Blip who he thought it might be, he certainly wasn’t going to admit to them the creepy stranger was his very own Dad, so he decided to confuse them even more by putting another daft theory into the pot. “I’ve heard,” he whispered to his mates, “lots of superstars have to do all their shopping in disguise because they’re so famous. If you ask me, it’s probably someone like Jet Fender, that weirdo rock singer.” His friends just looked at each other and nodded in silent agreement. Blip just hoped his dad would abandon his fancy dress walk-about until he was fully healed. He knew he’d never live it down if his friends discovered the real truth. So when he got home one afternoon from St. Egbert’s, and had barely got his, “I’m home!” out of his mouth before mum said, “Don’t bother taking your coat off , you’re coming to Morrison’s with me and your Dad.” Blip tried ever tactic he could think of get out of it. The family’s car had been provided free by the government because of Blip’s disability and so it was, as far as he was concerned, his car. So he tried the old ‘you’re wearing my car out’ routine.“I’ve a good mind to write up and complain about you two.” he moaned. “My car’s going to be as unfit as I am if you keep working it to death like this.” “You’re right, dear,” said Mum cheerfully wearing the smile of an executioner, “so we’ll all have to walk there instead.” “I can’t walk that far!” protested Blip. “It must be at least three thousand miles away and I’d be a teenager by the time we got there.” “Of course you would,” said Mum calmly, “so we’ll have to take the car then, won’t we? And it can take us the two miles to the store in warmth, safety and comfort. So, instead of moaning every time we go to the shops, just be grateful.” “I’m only complaining ‘cos we have to have Dad on tow, it’s like being in the Wizard of Oz and having the scarecrow trailing after us.” said Blip. “Look, stop complaining and get your coat on will you?” said Mum crossly. “We need to get on.” “Oooh! Mum!” said Blip, staggering slightly and placing his hand across his brow like a ham actor. “I can’t go! I’m tired! I’m ill. I’ve just suddenly remembered I’ve got homework to do! I need to try and find the cats! I need to tidy my bedroom!” When he looked at his parent’s faces, Blip realized he’d gone too far. If he’d said he was going to juggle rattlesnakes in the Arizona desert, it would have sounded more believable than he wanted to tidy his room. Now there wasn’t the slightest chance they’d believe what he was saying. So, a few minutes later he was being dragged into the car. “Can’t we at least leave Dad at home?” pleaded Blip, but to no avail. He spent the next ten minutes going to the supermarket muttering under his breath how snide Mum and Dad were. When they arrived at the supermarket, nothing seemed out of the ordinary, other than it being slightly busier than normal. “They must have got some special offers on.” said Mum. “Mmmwff !” replied Dad, muffled behind his thick scarf. As they walked around the store, Blip noticed other shoppers who pointed at Dad were gathered in even greater numbers. The huddles had got bigger and the whispers louder. “That’s him!” and “It is him!” could be clearly heard, though Dad seemed to be completely ignorant of all that was happening around him, cocooned as he was in his disguise. Since she was deeply concentrating on her shopping, Mum didn’t notice either. A lot of the customers were carrying little books and appeared to be getting more and more excited as Dad continued through the store. As they moved down the aisles, Blip noticed a rapidly growing crowd of shoppers had begun to follow them. By the time they’d got to ‘Pasta and Sauces,’ there were so many people crammed into the aisle behind them, the shelves began to move under their weight. What made it worse was, now nobody spoke and there was a kind of awed silence. That is until Dad picked something up to buy, and then there’d be hushed and united whispers of approval from the crowd. “Oooh! Look, he loves Kippers!” “Oh! Would you believe it, he has the same brand of toilet paper as us!” “Look at that! He’s bought bananas, it must be him!” As soon as the Dobbs’ moved on, the crowd would fall like vultures on the same items they’d just bought and in an instant the shelf would be cleared. As Mum, Dad and Blip came to the ‘Meat pie, Pasties and Sausage Roll’ section, Blip began to feel a strange tingling running down his arms to his fingers, just like he’d had in the bath. At first, he wasn’t sure if was just nervousness as the following crowd was making him think everybody was staring at him. As he neared the sausage rolls though, the tingling got stronger and stronger. Blip always got excited whenever he saw a sausage roll. He couldn’t think of a nicer food in the entire world. Sometimes he’d even dreamt about sausage rolls but he’d never been affected like this before. Suddenly to his amazement, his arm lifted and began jabbing towards the sausage rolls. He had no control over it; it was as though it belonged to someone else. His finger even started poking his Mum to get her attention, but she just pushed his hand away irritably and got on with her shopping. Blip then felt the most desperate urge to have to a sausage roll. He’d never had such a deep craving for anything in his life before. He was like a man in the desert thirsting for water. “I NEED A SAUSAGE ROLL! AND I NEED IT NOW!” He suddenly bellowed at the top of his voice, much to the surprise of his parents, himself, and the crowd watching them. “Don’t be so rude! You can eat when we get home and not before, besides, I’m not buying any of them.” said Mum crossly. She clutched her throat as if she was going to be sick. “I don’t know what it is lately but even just the thought of a sausage roll makes me want to throw up.” “But I’m starving!” Blip said clutching his fat tummy as if to demonstrate it needed a lot of fi lling. But Mum and Dad just ignored him and moved on down towards the ‘Jellies and Custards.’ The huge swell of people went with them, and as they did, Blip was pushed out of the way, squashed up against the shelves. While he waited for the horde of people to pass, his eyes went up to the shelf with the sausage rolls on it. As he did, one of them nodded to him! Blip rubbed his eyes in disbelief but there it was, a sausage roll nodding and winking, jumping and dancing, completely unnoticed by everybody except Blip. When he thought back to it later, he couldn’t remember whether the sausage roll had actually spoken or whether he’d just heard the words inside his head, but whichever way, he knew the roll began to talk to him. “Good afternoon.” it said, as though it was the most normal thing in the world for it to speak. Blip just stared at it open-mouthed, unable to believe his eyes. Th en he picked it up, checked it to see if there were hidden wires or a microphone or something. It was quite obviously some kind of trick someone was playing on him. “Are you happy now?” the roll said. “Do you think you’ve poked me enough?” “But you’re talking!” gasped Blip. “Would you prefer I use smoke signals or something?” Blip just shook his head still not believing what he was seeing. “Anyway, it’s nice to meet you.” the sausage roll said. “It’s the first time I’ve met a hero, though I must say I’m not particularly impressed. For a start, I thought you’d be older, taller and, if you’ll forgive me saying so, a bit slimmer around the waist. But they must know what they’re doing choosing you. So anyway, I’ve no time for idle chit-chat, open one of your pockets and let me jump in. I’ve got a message for you.” Blip leaned forward and whispered to the sausage roll. “What are you talking about? I can’t just put you in my pocket! That would be stealing!” Th e sausage roll sat wearily down on a meat pie. “Don’t be silly! How can it be stealing when I’ve asked to be taken away?” “Oh yes!” hissed Blip. “And it would be me that would be taken away if I start telling the till girl I’m not buying a sausage roll, I’m just taking it out for the day!” Just then Blip realized he wasn’t alone. Standing by the side of him was a tiny old man, with an unkempt beard and bright blue eyes that stared at him unblinkingly. He wore brightly colored clothes that were several sizes too big for him and smelled strongly of mint and mothballs. He had the wrinkliest face Blip had ever seen and was wearing what was obviously a knitted tea cozy on his head. He tapped the side of his nose with a bony finger and gave out a tinny laugh. “There’s absolutely no point in talking to sausage rolls, Laddie! Didn’t you know? They can’t understand a word you say!” He walked away still cackling to himself and Blip watched him go, feeling very foolish. Th e old man suddenly stopped and turned back to him. “Now, the cucumbers—they’re diff erent all together. I always get a good conversation out of cucumbers!” and off he wandered again, laughing loudly. “That’s it! That is it!” thought Blip. “I’m going to end up as puddled as he is!” He started to move away from the counter. He almost said goodbye to the sausage roll but stopped himself just in time. He went to try to find his parents and wondered how he was going to get through all the crowds that were there. As he was moving down the aisle however, he heard scrabbling, scratchy, kind of noises then realized the sausage roll was following him! Like an Olympic athlete it was jumping and climbing, swinging and running along the shelves over sausages and cheeses, over breads and over sauces. “Will you stop following me!” said Blip in a loud whisper. “I’m not taking you with me and that’s final!” The sausage roll said nothing, probably because it appeared to be out of breath, but it still followed him, leaping and bounding from one product to another. Th ough Blip had to admire its agility and persistence, it was starting to annoy him. “Will you stop following me?” Blip repeated looking around to make sure no one was watching him. “You’re not coming with me!” The panting sausage roll waggled its hips provocatively. “Oh yes I am!” It sang cheekily, like a naughty schoolboy trying to drive his teacher insane. “Oh no, you’re not!” said Blip crossly. It was beginning to sound like a pantomime. “It’s typical!” he said, “I’m probably the first human in history to talk to a sausage roll and it’s my luck to get one that’s a pain in the neck!” The sausage roll looked off ended. “Listen pal! If it wasn’t for the fact I’ve been ordered to give you the note, I’d&ldots;” “Note? What note?” said Blip, interrupting. “Th e note in my pocket, of course!” said the sausage roll impatiently, tapping itself in the middle. “Well, what’s in it?” said Blip. “I’ve just said: the note!” replied the roll, even crosser. Blip sighed. “No, I meant what’s in the note, not what’s in your pocket!” He stopped short. “And since when do sausage rolls have pockets?” “Ever since we had to carry notes to people like you, that’s when.” replied the roll. “Ok, mmm, I suppose that makes sense, but what I meant was, what does the note say?” “How in sausage meat would I know? Nobody tells me anything! I’m only a message carrier after all.” Th e roll said sulkily. Blip lifted the sausage roll close to his mouth so he could whisper even quieter. Upstairs in the offices, one of the security guards was watching him through a TV monitor. He called his mate over. “Eh Bert! Just look at this! There’s a young kid ‘ere ‘avin’ a right ol’ conversation wi’ one o’ th’ sausage rolls!” Bert just casually looked up from his newspaper. “Ay! Nowt surprises me nowadays. Anyway you shouldn’t be watchin’ ‘im. What’s goin’ on wi’ Jet Fender? Is ‘e still shoppin’ in th’ store?” Downstairs, Blip whispered to the sausage roll, “So how am I going to get at the note?” He held it out at arms length and licked his lips. “Do I have to eat you?” “Don’t even think about it! You’d be sick as a pig if you tried!” sneered the sausage roll. “You don’t really think I’m edible do you?” “Well, you look pretty tasty to me. I’m prepared to give it a go.” said Blip, who was now starting to feel seriously hungry. “Anyway, the sausage roll I found in the soap had bites taken out of it, so you must be edible!” Th e roll shook its head. “Take my word for it, the plonker who ate it has still got his head stuck down the toilet and will have for the next three weeks! Serves him right the greedy pig! You don’t really think I’m a real sausage roll do you? Why do you think that the soap-sausage-roll drank all your bath water and then exploded? Why do you think you’re able to stand here chatting to me, eh? It’s not exactly run of the mill behavior for a food item is it? C’mon, think about it Einstein! WE ARE NOT EVERYDAY SAUSAGE ROLLS! WE ARE VERY SPECIAL SAUSAGE ROLLS!” Blip felt silly and mumbled. “I suppose so.” The sausage roll looked pleased with itself and said, “So I’ll take that as an apology then?” “Well, if you’re not a real sausage roll, what are you?” said Blip sullenly. Th e sausage roll narrowed its eyes and thought for a second or two, scratching its head. “Mmm, well, the first thing to tell you is good news. I’m not a wild piece of your imagination, you’re not going daft. I’m as real as you are.” “Well that’s a relief!” said Blip. “I thought I was going to end up in a padded cell. If I was to tell anyone I’d been chatting to a sausage roll, you can bet your life that’s where I’d be going.” The roll giggled, “Yeah, you wouldn’t blame them, would you?”It beckoned Blip to come closer. “The technical name for me is a metamorphic transubstantiation of a mystical incantation.” Blip’s eyes went blank, “but I see from the look on your face, you’re either impersonating a goldfish or you can’t understand a fl ipping word I’m talking about. So let me simplify it by saying I’m a solid formed magic spell, oh!” The roll suddenly looked cross with itself and gave itself a slap across the face in punishment. “Drat! I was particularly asked not to use words like ‘spells’ and ‘magic’ ‘cos it’ll confuse you, but now I’ve gone and done it.” Blip must have still looked dim because the sausage roll explained even further. “Look Blip, there are certain people—people who I’m not allowed to tell you about, who need you to help them.” Blip opened his mouth to ask a question but the roll interrupted. “No, don’t ask what they want, you’ll be told soon enough. First though, they felt it was important for you to be shown the world is far stranger than you can begin to imagine.” “Well, that bar of soap was pretty strange,” said Blip, “and I’d have never imagined my self one day having a deep conversation with a sausage roll, of all things!” The sausage roll looked off ended. “Sorry, but it’s true. I’d have said that was impossible until today.” “No, not impossible—improbable, unlikely, unbelievable maybe, but not impossible. Trust me Blip when I say very, very few things in this universe are impossible. And so, the, er, people who need to talk to you, felt you needed a crash course in the impossible before you met and that’s why they’ve sent me here.” “But why would I need ‘a crash course in the impossible’?” said Blip, not entirely sure that he liked the sound of it. “So you’ll find it easier to accept the things you’re going to be told.” said the roll, looking serious. “So, are you magic then?” asked Blip. The roll winced as though the word had stung him like a wasp. “Yes, er, well, no, almost, er, sort of yes and sort of no.” It said, now hopping about as though its feet were on fire. “Oh good, that’s cleared that up then!” Blip said. The roll looked apologetic. “Sorry, it’s just that the, er, ‘m’ word, tends to confuse things. That’s why I was asked not to use it in the first place.” It gave itself another slap across the face. “But I have and once a word’s escaped from your mouth they never go back in, do they?” “So, if you are, or you aren’t, the ‘m’ word, what are you?” asked Blip. “The trouble is&ldots;” said the roll, giving a deep sigh and looking slightly sorry for itself, “&ldots;magic, there I’ve said it, is the easiest way to explain what I am and why I’m here. But the trouble is as soon as I use that word, you’ll start to think of witches and wizards and flying brooms and all the kind of daft stuff you read about in your kids’ stories, won’t you?” “Of course not!” said Blip, trying to brush away the image of a witch on a broomstick from his mind. The roll had its eyes tightly shut as though trying to find out the best words to use. “Magic is just another name for a special type of natural force in the universe.” It said fi nally. “It’s stronger in some places than in others. In fact, it’s as weak as dishwater around here but its here nevertheless.” Blip looked up as though expecting to see little bits of magic floating down like snow flakes. “This special force ‘Magic’ is hard to get hold of. It can’t be used as easily as electricity, for example.” said the sausage roll. “And it’s as slippery as a greased eel; it needs a lot of skill to use it. This is a good thing, for heaven knows what the world would be like if any Tom, Dick or Harriet got their hands on it.” It shook its head. “It doesn’t bear thinking about.” “But ‘Magic’ when it’s in the right hands, can be tremendously powerfuland allows them to do great things. So this power has been used to bring me here to pass this message on to you. I was chosen to bring it because apparently I look like one of those sausage rolls you seem to like so much.” “What do you mean ‘apparently’?” said Blip, looking at it appreciatively.“You’re one of the tastiest looking rolls I’ve seen in a long while. Your crust is done perfectly.” The roll stepped back nervously not entirely happy at the way Blip was looking at him. “It’s not my ‘crust,’ thank you very much. This is my skin and it’s only got this color ‘cos I regularly use a sun bed.” “You mean you’re not a real sausage roll?” said Blip, almost sounding disappointed. The roll just stared at him with its eyes wide open and a sarcastic look on its face. “Oh, ok.” said Blip. “So there you have it,” continued the sausage roll, “it was thought that, since you love sausage rolls, if it was me that came to deliver the message, you’d pay more attention.” “Oh, you’ve got my attention, all right.” “Good,” said the roll, “then, now that I’ve explained everything, will you kindly please let me jump into your pocket so we can go somewhere quiet and I can give you the message?” “Can’t you give it to me here and now? I mean, it’s pretty quiet where we are, everybody’s busy following Mum and Dad so we can&ldots;hold on! Why are they following my Mum and Dad? And what’s all that noise?” said Blip, hearing a great cheer from near the front doors. The Dobbs’s had finally got to the checkout, only to discover the store manager, the assistant store manager, all the various department managers and most of the staff, including cleaners, stackers and trolley boys were waiting for them. They were all lined up, looking spic and span, and rather nervous. Several of the men were rubbing their shoes on the backs of their trousers while the ladies were adding a last touch of makeup or fussing with their hair. “Who are they waiting for?” said Mum. “Mmmprhh.” said Dad. He was just starting to put his items onto the checkout roller, when the manager rushed up to him with a smile that threatened to cut his head in two. “Mr. Fender! How thrilled, how delighted, how privileged we are to have you in our humble store.” he said ingratiatingly. “Please allow us to give you these items with the compliments of the company. And if that’s not good enough, well, then, er, we’ll pay you to take them away!” “Bbggrff y?” said Dad, who was probably looking very puzzled under his disguise. “May I now have the pleasure of introducing you to my staff ?” continued the manager, grabbing Dad by the arm and dragging him over to the waiting line of excited workers. When Mum started to follow, the manager called to several security men and nodded in her direction. “Get her back with the others. She can take her chance like everybody else. Tch! The things fans will do to get an autograph!” The men went over to Mum, grabbed her under the arms and dragged her, squealing and complaining, back into the cheering crowd of shoppers, the heels of her shoes etching deep track lines in the shops linoleum floor. The aisles were crammed with hundreds of people, all clutching their little autograph books and only held back by police and security men who had been brought in to help out. Dad raised his arm to tell the guards to leave his wife alone but the shoppers thought he was waving to them, so gave out a great cheer that drowned out his muffled calls. The next thing, he found himself shaking the hand of every one of the two hundred thirty-eight people who lined up to greet him. Dad was so puzzled and confused he was just carried away with it all but after a very short time he found himself beginning to enjoy all the attention. When the last hand had been shaken, he was led outside where a vast army of photographers, interviewers and television cameras were waiting. The million flashing cameras would have blinded him if he hadn’t have been wearing sunglasses. Reporters shouted out a barrage of questions, to which Dad answered, “Wffrgg?” and “Grrttd!” The reporters laughed in delight and scribbled down what each one thought he’d said, which ranged from: ‘I think Stockport is the greatest town in the entire universe’ to ‘I think I’ll have another facelift next week.’ and ‘Bubbles, my pet orangutan and I are getting married and will be going to Blackpool on honeymoon!’ Th e manager finally held his arms up and told everybody “Mr. Fender has had enough now!” He turned to Dad and beamed at him. “Thank you! Thank you! Thank you, so much for coming! Please feel free to call whenever you’re in this country again. But before you go&ldots;” He blushed slightly and then held out his own autograph album in a trembling hand, “...would you be so kind as to sign this for me?” He shoved a pen into the thick mitt of Dads glove. Dad made a couple of squiggles and the manager took it back, looked at it for a moment, with tears in his eyes said, “I’ll treasure this for the rest of my life.” Then started to sob uncontrollably and had to be led away to have a lie down. Dad looked around, wondering where Mum had got to, but then the assistant manager said to him, “Don’t worry Mr. Fender, your transport has arrived!” As onto the forecourt glided the longest, poshest, gold-plated limousine that Dad or indeed anybody in Stockport had ever seen. A uniformed chauffeur got out, opened one of the cars’ many rear doors and with a salute signaled Dad to get in. The assistant manager put all the groceries into the boot then banged on the roof. As the TV cameramen and photographers crowded around the car, Dad gave one final royal wave, and then was whisked away! “All that noise is to do with your Dad,” said the sausage roll with a grin, “it seems everyone’s got it into their heads he’s Jet Fender in disguise.”The roll started rocking with laughter. “As if!” “Jet Fender? Whatever gave them that idea?” “You did! You nitwit!” chortled the sausage roll. “Me? What have I got to do with it? I was only joking when I said the guy in the weird clothes might be him but I certainly didn’t start broadcasting it. So how come all these people got to get the idea?” “That was you again!” giggled the sausage roll. “Me?” cried Blip. “Why do you keep blaming me?” “Because,” said the roll, with a big grin, “when the sausage roll exploded in your house, some of the ‘magic’ that had been holding it together must have stuck onto you. So when you spoke to your mates, it acted like a sort of spell. Even though it wouldn’t have been particularly strong, there was enough to make it work. So you as good as went and put a spell on the whole of Stockport! Pretty clever stuff .” “It wasn’t clever! I had absolutely no idea what I was doing!” “Perhaps not, but that’s the way the sausage rolls crumble! Fortunately there’s not too much harm done and to be honest I think it’s brought some much-needed excitement to the town. They should all be very grateful.” “Grateful? Grateful? My Mum and Dad are going to go absolutely bonkers if they ever fi nd out I was behind it! But anyway, where are they?” said Blip standing on tiptoes and trying to see over the crowds. “Aaah!” said the sausage roll apologetically. “Aaah? Aaah? What exactly do you mean by ‘Aaah’? Where are they?” “Oh, don’t worry. They’re both ok.” said the sausage roll then whispered, “Sort of!” “Sort of? Sort of what?” The sausage roll looked slightly embarrassed. “Er, sort of, um, your Mum’s just been taken away in a police van and your Dad’s on his way to Hong Kong.” “Hong Kong?!”