Slick-Worm vs. The Dark Dangler

Gareth Swift rang the local pizza shop and ordered a deep pan, half pepperoni and half Margherita. He ran up the stairs and changed into his onesie, which was becoming so short it looked like the cuffs were arguing with his ankles.

Halfway down the stairs, he put both hands on the bannister and swung his legs down the last six steps, landing with a ground punch. Gaz then super-launched onto the settee and grabbed the television remote to find the film.

Two minutes later, an enormous clatter rattled the lights in the house and Gaz jumped up to see his dad, dressed in a bright blue shark onesie, lying in a heap at the bottom of the stairs.

“I think I’ve put me back out, Sunshine,” said Brian. “I’m stuck.”

“Ye’ve got socks on and it’s a wooden floor.”

“Lesson learned,” said Brian as he stood up, dressed like Super-Shark, in his retirement years. “Pizza ordered?”

“Aye,” said Gaz. He looked at his dad with pretend disgust. “What have you got on? You’re forty-five.”

“Well ye’ve got one. So, I got one anarl.”

“Please dinnet answer the door in that?”

Saturday was going to be busy, so Friday was an early night. A quick tuck in and a high five was all part of a routine Gaz had insisted on since he came to live with his dad six years ago.

“Nanight mate,” said Gaz.

“Love you… Shurrup.”

Gaz always went to sleep with a grin.

The Volkswagen needed some work done to its kitchen and the bunk beds, so the guys were up early. The respray looked tidy - two-tone - sky blue on the bottom half of the bus and cream on the pop-up roof. Two more days of work and a week of gaming then they were off on a four-week-long road trip. The campervan would smell awful by the time they got home.

So, Saturday morning and afternoon was spent on the van. Saturday evening, as always, was leftover pizza and shouting at each other around the games console.

“Ye’re so bad at the game,” Gaz taunted as Brian respawned again.

“Shut it,” snapped Brian. “Ye’re bad at life.”

Gaz had great aim, no fear and the attention span of a greedy squirrel in a nut factory. Brian had great tactics, but the reaction times of a pencil. Together, when they listened to each other though, they were unstoppable and won many games as a duo. Gaz and Brian were a real team in play and real life too. Best mates.

On Sunday morning, Gaz continued working on his script for the superhero movie he was making with Phil.

“Silkworm,” said Gaz, “He’s a…”

“Silkworm’s already a comic book character,” said Brian shaking his head. “Marvel I reckon. Look online before ye mack names up. What’s his powers?”

“Weaves silk webs from his fingers,” said Gaz.

“Uh-hu…”

“And he can climb walls.”

“Exactly like Spider-Man then?”

“Nar!” snapped Gaz. “He wears a white suit. He’s different.”

“Copyright infringement,” said his dad, teasing.

“What’s that?”

“When ye copy someone’s idea, which ye dee arl the time.”

“But he’s different, he wears a white suit…”

Later...

“You know what this looks like?” asked Ara.

“Aye,” replied Brian. “I’m horrified.”

“I’m assuming you didn’t make the mask?” said Ara.

“Nor,” replied Brian. “They made the costumes themselves.”

“It’s a pillow case?” said Ara.

“Aye,” said Brian. “Slick-Worm’s mask.”

“Looks a lot like a white hood, and that bed sheet… a gown” she replied.

“It looks bad, I knar.”

The clearing in Hatley Woods had become the scene of Slick-Worm’s dramatic capture of Dark Dangler. With little need for a green screen in the luscious grass and dense bushes, Gaz and Ara’s nephew, Phil, acted out the script in true Hollywood fashion. The Dark Dangler, Slick-Worm’s nemesis, had escaped several times before, with his haunting evil cackle but this time Slick-Worm landed a foot-high jump with a true superhero ground punch. The scene was less graceful than a big-budget blockbuster, but Brian didn’t get paid until Friday so they’d made the costume from stuff in the garage. Phil’s Dark Dangler costume was less controversial, but Ara was sure the mask was made from her favourite black tights.

“Philip has my tights on his head,” tutted Ara.

“The Dark Dangler’s a bank robber.”

“Shall I take a photo for their eighteenth birthday party?” said Ara.

“Please nar. Best get them home before the neighbours call the papers.”

“Yes indeed,” said Ara. “Phil, untie yourself and let’s go. Your mum’s rang.”

“Gaz,” shouted Brian. “Take off that bloody mask.”

“See you at seven?” said Ara.

“I’ll dress smart,” said Brian.

“Love you in a shirt.”

“Ara,” shouted Philip. “We’ve totally filmed Slick-Worm capturing Dark Dangler for the final time. It was gnarly.”

“Can I get a green screen, Dad?” asked Gaz.

“Yeah, for your birthday.”

“Cool,” said Gaz to Philip. “We can gan international. New York?”

Brian turned to Ara and rolled his eyes. “Yeah, that’s original. A wall crawler who spins webs in New York.”

“It’s silk, Dad.”

“Cool,” said Brian. “I’ll hire a good lawyer.”

“What’s for dinner, Gnarly Ara?” asked Philip.

“Beans on toast,” said Ara. “I’m out tonight, so dinner, beach for surfing, then you’re going to Gran’s”

“Radical,” said Phil. “Laters, Gazbot, off to catch some waves.”

“Catch you later Phil and Nik,” said Brian.

“Say hello to the princesses,” laughed Ara.

“You’ll see,” said Philip and Gaz together, playing air guitar.

On their way home, through Hatley Woods, Gareth and Brian Swift ran from birch zombies…