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booshslashhavenTitle: Vincent Noir and Howard Moon Are... Confused
Pairing or Characters: Howince-ish
Summary: The Zooniverse is under new management, and Vince and Howard find themselves getting confused. Featuring head wounds, Bob Fossil, and philosophical musings.
Word Count: 2,494
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: just the usual oddness
Challenge: none
Disclaimer: Oh, how loudly I disclaim! I throw myself, prostrate (not the second 'r'!) at the great and powerful feet of The Mighty Boosh, which is in no way mine!
Author’s Notes: Okay, no worries everyone, I'm back to doing surreal humour. It's okay.
Chapter One: http://community.livejournal.com/booshslashhaven/855960.html#cutid1
Vince was hopping between benches and little bits of railing keeping visitors back from the pens, balancing on anything he could as he followed Howard along the way to Fossil’s office.
“Vince, don’t do that. It isn’t safe.” Howard snapped.
Vince was about to come back with a stinging retort about his personal safety when he slipped, hitting his head.
“Vince!” Howard scooped him up carefully, patting his cheek, pushing his hair back from his face.
“Don’t touch it!” He batted Howard’s hands away.
“Vince, you’re all right!”
“Am I?” He blinked.
“Aren’t you?”
“You’re repeating me.” He poked Howard in the chest. “Okay, what’s up, doc?”
“Excuse me?”
“Where are we going?”
Howard frowned. “Fossil’s office.”
“Right. I knew that. I’m a gifted child.” Vince hopped to his feet, pasting a dazzling grin in place and flashing Howard a thumbs-up.
“How’s your head?”
“Why, is my hair not okay?”
“It’s fine, Vince, but are you hurt?”
“Am I bleeding?”
“Are you?” Howard felt a panic creeping up. He felt the back of Vince’s head. There was a knot forming, but no wet stickiness.
“You’re repeating me.” Vince repeated, poking Howard in the chest again.
“Don’t touch me, sir.”
“Hey, can I ask you a question?” Vince tugged at Howard’s sleeve.
“Do you think it’ll help?”
“Who am I?”
He was playing. Of course he was playing, had to be. Howard could feel the panic gripping him hard now. “Don’t you know?”
Vince shrugged, utterly nonchalant. “I know all the important stuff, yeah. Like, I like sweets, I got jazz allergy, Gary Numan’s a pop star but he’s also got a pilot’s license. It’s just the name and age stuff got me mixed up.”
“You mean you don’t know who I am?”
“Geez, Howard, ‘course I know who you are!” Vince laughed at him. It was annoying, but a relief as well. Vince stopped laughing for a moment and glanced up at Howard through his fringe. “I do, yeah?”
“You do, little man. Now try not to hit your head again before we get to Fossil’s office.”
“Right!” Vince grabbed Howard’s arm and started skipping, dragging him forward. Howard was about to protest, but Vince was leading them in the right direction. He decided to just go with it. After a moment, though, it seemed his distinct lack of cheer actually penetrated Vince’s dense fog of sunshine and lollipops.
“What?” Howard grumped.
“What’s the matter with you today?”
“When?”
“All day! Since before I knocked my head, yeah? And now. You’re dead uncheerful.”
“Dead.” Howard snorted. He felt very philosophical. “Am I dead? Do we die? Of course we die, but are we really dead?”
“Didn’t hit my head that hard.” Vince snorted.
“What’s your name?”
Vince bit his lip. “I told you, that’s the part that’s fuzzy. Ask me something about Bowie, I know all about that! I remember you being grumpy this morning! I told you, I remember most everything, I just got a little jiggled in the mind tank when I took that spill back there. Howard, have you got a home?”
“Why do you ask?”
“Hm?” Vince’s head dropped to one side again. Howard inspected his pupils. They were both huge, but they seemed to be the same size.
“What does it matter where I live? I mean, so long as I live somewhere, that’s all that’s important!” But the truth was, Vince’s question brought out all sorts of niggling doubts, because Howard was sure he did have a home, a real one. And yet every morning he woke up in the keepers’ hut with Vince. That much he knew was true.
“What if I wanted to go there?”
“What’s your name?” Howard ground the words out, exasperated. But Vince didn’t answer, didn’t even seem to be paying attention at all, and Howard seized him almost violently. “WELL?”
Vince pulled away. “What’s the matter with you?”
He was going off in the wrong direction now, his rainbow mood spoilt. Howard took a step after him. “Vince!”
“What?” Vince whirled back around. “What are you smiling at, you goofy gibbon?”
“Well you must remember, you answered.”
Vince grinned. “Yeah!”
“Unless you were just going to turn around for anything.”
“Well I’d’ve turned around if you said ‘fire’.” Vince had reoriented himself now, and was ahead of Howard on the meandering path towards Fossil’s office.
“George!” Howard shouted.
“What?” Vince turned, rolling his eyes.
“You idiot.” Howard nearly tapped him upside the head, but remembered the bump and stopped short. “Look, you’re Vince Noir, all right? Rock and roll star. Try and keep that in your shiny little head.”
“Vince Noir, rock and roll star. Yeah, I like it. It rhymes. Like, I tried other stuff, but none of it rhymed. Didn’t feel right.”
“I’m not so sure you’re all right, Vince. I think we should get your head seen to.”
“Nah, we’re almost there. I can remember my own name now, Howard. Vince Noir, rock and roll star. Vince, like... in ‘invincible’!”
“Yeah, well, don’t test it.” Howard dropped an arm around the smaller man’s shoulders. “No more knocking your head into things.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
When they finally arrived at Fossil’s office—a journey that seemed to have gone on uncommon long—the man himself was dancing. His shirt was unevenly buttoned, half-undone, too many glimpses of sweaty and jiggling flesh everywhere. Still, Howard supposed, one had to be thankful for the little things. At least this time, it wasn’t Toto.
‘—used to say quite a bit, that as a monarch he was most unfit, still and all you had to admit, that he loved his mother—‘
Fossil shut the music off and turned to them. “Moon, Vincey! I think now you understand why we have to do this thing.”
“Do... what thing, exactly, Mr. Fossil?”
“Avenge my Bainbridge!” He howled, stomping.
“I don’t know...” Howard shifted uncomfortably. “If anything, Bjorn Bainbridge seems to be less evil than the old Bainbridge...”
“Yeah.” Vince nodded. “He seems really nice.”
“Well, now, remember, Vince; a man may smile and be a villa—“
“Hey, that’s my line! Quit stepping on my lines, Moon!”
“Your line? I... I’m sorry, Sir, I wasn’t aware you were familiar enough with the works of the immortal bard for that to be your line.”
“Hey, I know all about immoral beards!”
“I don’t doubt that, Sir.”
“Hey, what’s the deal with this ‘Bjorn Bainbridge’, anyway?” Vince hopped up on the desk, crossing his ankles. “That doesn’t sound like a very British name.”
“You didn’t know? Dixon Bainbridge comes from a long line of hearty Viking stock!” Fossil enthused. “One of his ancestors once kicked Tycho Brahe in the balls!”
“Tycho Brahe? Famed astronomer Tycho Brahe?”
“In the balls!”
“How is that something to brag about?”
“You’ve never done it!”
“Look, Mr. Fossil—“ Howard began, but Fossil cut him off.
“Hey, I know everyone’s saying I’m crazy, but I’m not so crazy I don’t know what’s what, Moon. Like, I still know the difference between a flappy screaming beak claw lady and one of those big house-buildy knives!”
“A hawk and a handsaw?” He raised one eyebrow.
“Yeah. Hang on,” Fossil dug his Dictaphone out. “Say that again.”
“A hawk and a handsaw.” Howard repeated.
‘A hawk and a handsaw.’, the Dictaphone parroted. Fossil smiled in triumph and pocketed the device, then scowled at his two keepers. “Don’t you have some dung to shovel?”
And with that, he swept out of his own office, leaving Vince and Howard alone.
Vince snorted, tossing his head. “Well, I don’t care if he can tell a hawk from a handbag. I can do that! Handbags don’t talk and hawks are dead unfashionable.”
“Handsaw, Vince. A hawk from a handsaw.”
“That’s just boring.” Vince snorted. “What would I do with a handsaw?”
“What would you do? Probably nothing.”
“I’m not exactly a master of the constructive.” Vince agreed.
Howard rolled his eyes.
Vince merely waggled his eyebrows in a suggestive manner until Howard shoved him off the desk.
“Come on, let’s go.”
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
“Well, out with it.” Vince prodded Howard. “You’re thinking again.”
“Don’t touch me, don’t ever touch me.”
“Is it about handbags?”
“Saws, Vince, handsaws, and no. I’m not thinking about handsaws, I’m not thinking about hawks, or winds, or Tycho Brahe, or anything!”
“You’re upset because I didn’t listen to you and I hit my head coming off the bench.” Vince said, sly knowing smile creeping across his face.
“It was the railing.” Howard corrected. “And don’t talk like you know. You don’t know my thoughts. To illustrate: Zhuangzi and Huizi were strolling along the dam of the Hao Waterfall—“
“Never met ‘em.”
“Of course you’ve never met them, Vince, they’re dead.”
“Jazz musicians?”
“Philosophers. They lived in the three hundreds. BC. And they were strolling along the dam of the Hao Waterfall—“
“In China, yeah?”
“In China. And Zhuangzi said, ‘See how the minnows come out and dart around where they please! That’s what fish really enjoy!’—“
“Genius.” Vince chuckled. “Could they talk to fish in China?”
“No, that’s the point of it—at least, that was Huizi’s point. He says, ‘You’re not a fish, how do you know what fish enjoy?’”
“I talk to fish, Howard.”
“And Zuangzi said ‘You’re not me, so how do you know I don’t know what fish enjoy?’. And Huizi, he comes back with this little gem of ancient wisdom: ‘I’m not you, so I certainly don’t know what you know. On the other hand, you’re certainly not a fish, so that still proves that you don’t know what fish enjoy!’”
“What point are you trying to make, exactly?”
“Well, that was what Zhuangzi said. ‘Let’s go back to your original question, please. You asked me how I know what fish enjoy, so you already knew I knew it when you asked the question. I know it by standing here beside the Hao.’”
“But what does that prove?” Vince pressed.
Howard sputtered for a moment, but Vince had already moved on. He was shaking the magic mirror ball again.
“All right, then, what’s it tell you?” Howard sighed.
“Hm? Dunno.” Vince shrugged and pocketed it again.
“What do you mean ‘dunno’? You just—You were—Oh for crying out loud!
Fossil moved past them, and Howard jumped slightly, but they went unnoticed. Naboo and the whole of the board of shamen were trailing along behind him, and Howard could catch words like ‘revenge’, and ‘potion’, and ‘truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth’.
“This is going to end in tears.” Howard predicted.
The head shaman stopped, leveling them with a glare. “You there! The mortal fools who declined to participate in our Ritual!”
“I don’t see what the big deal is.” Vince tossed his hair and posed, a study in attractive insolence.
“The Rituals of the shamen are not to be easily tossed aside.”
“They know nothing of the Ritual!”
“This is an outrage!”
Howard shrank back from the complaining board, shoving Vince behind him lest he once again wander headlong and happy into danger. “I see you’ve found Naboo.” He said.
“So you do.” The head shaman sneered, then motioned for Vince to step forward.
He did, despite Howard’s efforts. “What?”
“Mortal!”
“Oh, boy.” Naboo rolled his eyes. “This’ll be good.”
“You think to mock our ways, to decline the offer of a lifetime, of the highest magic! But as I have told you before, we are the board of shamen! We can turn ourselves into the mighty hawk—“
“Yeah, Naboo told me once. He also said he might go work in Dixon’s instead.”
“Is this true, Naboo?”
“Story for another time.” Naboo said quickly. “You were dealing with mortal fools?”
“Right. We can turn ourselves into the mighty hawk, into the humble bumblebee—“
“Humble bumblebee.” Vince repeated, sniggering. Howard smacked his arm lightly.
“Into intangible mist!” The head shaman thundered. “You can never be assured of your safety when you make an enemy of a shaman. You can never be assured of your privacy. Wherever you go, you will second guess yourself, for we may be there. Time is an illusion to the high shaman, your past, present, and future are alike to him! And in your most secret, filthy little moments, remember; Tony Harrison might be watching you!”
“I’d get off to it, too!” Harrison piped up. “Yeeeah!”
Vince uttered a small ‘meep’ like sound and clutched at Howard. Catching himself, he passed it off with a laugh and a shake of the head, leaning against Howard casually until he was shoved off.
“Yes, well.” The shamen drew back in on themselves before turning to face Vince and Howard again. “We have business, so you must excuse us. Our shamanistic duty calls. Voodoo—“
“And potions, and chants, yes. All right, enjoy yourselves.”
“And you as well. Whatever you’re doing...” Another sneer.
“Well, Vince is just getting over a bit of a concussion, just a small one. I suppose we’re just, finding our feet still.”
“I would be more worried about keeping your heads.”
Howard gulped. “Right then.”
“Call it a hunch.”
The board swept off.
“Humble bumblebee,” Vince began.
“Humble bumblebee, buzz buzz in the garden now,
Unaerodynamic, fully automatic,
Humble bumblebee, buzz buzz past the garden gate,
Out onto the motorway,
Lorry window danger!
Bumblebee humblebee prat,
Bumblebee humblebee splat!”
“Is this really the time?” Howard stopped the crimp.
Vince hung his head for a moment, then looked up. “Hey, Howard! You remember my magic mirror ball?”
“No.”
“Yeah you do!”
“Yeah.”
“Howard, do you ever wonder what it’s like being dead? Do you think you’ll come back as a ghost? Howard, what if I fell off the bench and went in a coma and you thought I was dead and you buried me and I woke up underground, would you come dig me out? Howard, how much air do you think’s in coffins? Howard, if you went in a coma and I buried you and you died, would you definitely come back as a ghost and haunt me? Howard, do you think Bainbridge is a ghost right now? Do you think—“
“I don’t think anything. Come on, stop being morbid, it’s not like you. And if you went in a coma, I’d take you to the doctor.”
“But you think I’m dead!”
“I’d still take you to the doctor. To be extra sure. All right?”
“All right.” Vince tossed the magic mirror ball from one hand to the other. “I’d take you to a doctor, too. I did before when I found you and then you did haunt me and then I brought you back to life, remember?”
“I remember, little man.”
“Hey, Howard, my magic mirror ball thinks you should let me style your hair.”
“Sod your magic mirror ball.”
~~~tbc~~~
~Glas
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no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 12:22 pm (UTC)like your story))
no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 10:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 01:50 pm (UTC)Brilliance defines this tho, too funni!
brie xx
no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 01:52 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 10:19 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 10:17 pm (UTC)Thank you!
no subject
Date: 2009-06-10 07:06 am (UTC)Being Evil is much more fun. Not as much stress. Evil people hardly ever get cancer.
Still, you know what would be even MORE evil? If you were only SAYING the story was 'Howince-ish' and making us all be hooked on your Awesome story despite that fact, but really you're gonna introduce some hard-core Howince in later and watch us all reel in a giddy mix shock and pleasure at the surprise development!! Whoa, you'd be pure EVIL! More evil than dolphin-raping, stump-fucking Baboyagoo!!!
That is what you're going to do......right?
RIGHT?????
Please?
Eternally hooked and shamelessly begging. Yep. You're evil.
xx
no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 01:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 10:21 pm (UTC)I'm super happy with how fast those first two chapters made it through the mod approval queue! But last night I caught up with myself, so now I have to buckle down and finish writing chapter three...
no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 08:57 pm (UTC)“I don’t see what the big deal is.” Vince tossed his hair and posed, a study in attractive insolence.
“The Rituals of the shamen are not to be easily tossed aside.”
“They know nothing of the Ritual!”
“This is an outrage!”
Wherever you go, you will second guess yourself, for we may be there. Time is an illusion to the high shaman, your past, present, and future are alike to him! And in your most secret, filthy little moments, remember; Tony Harrison might be watching you!”
“I’d get off to it, too!” Harrison piped up. “Yeeeah!”
Those bits made me laugh so much! lol
xxx
no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 10:24 pm (UTC)It's an unsettling thought, Tony Harrison watching your secret, filthy little moments. Well, okay, the good folks of this comm might not mind...
Thanks much! Glad you enjoyed it.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-09 10:33 pm (UTC)I don't know Tony Harrison watching my dirty moments is kinda hot. I think it's cos it's noel under the tentacales and make up lol.
xxx
no subject
Date: 2009-06-10 09:24 am (UTC)What? Who said that? *looks around*
no subject
Date: 2009-06-10 12:33 pm (UTC)xxx
no subject
Date: 2009-06-10 03:37 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-10 09:26 am (UTC)Actually, after staring at it for a while, I want to recaption that picture 'Invisible Howard'. *hangs head* I can't help my mind being in the gutter, it's attached to my body!
no subject
Date: 2009-06-10 11:45 am (UTC)And is that a Tom Lehrer song Fossil's dancing to? The one about Oedipus Rex?
If so; nice taste!
no subject
Date: 2009-06-10 10:34 pm (UTC)Yeah, that's Oedipus Rex, all right. A bit highbrow for Fossil, perhaps, but I just really wanted to use it.
no subject
Date: 2009-06-12 04:23 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-06-12 07:33 pm (UTC)*is mesmerized by Vince and his banana*
no subject
Date: 2009-07-25 09:19 pm (UTC)“A hawk and a handsaw?” He raised one eyebrow.
That almost had me in tears. The dialogue is FANTASTIC. Love it. Genius, the lot of it. 8D