I have writers block, so I'm shamefully recycling something I wrote ages ago instead of a new instalment.
World renowned explorer and adventurer Trevor Faeces has agreed to give the Other Times Guardian Angel Flat Earth Society exclusive rights to publish extracts from his autobiography “Trevor Faeces: Man of Adventure”. Trevor was most famous for his discovery of biblical pirate Noah’s holy peg leg. In this extract Trevor talks about a strange encounter in darkest somewhere unspecific in Africa
CHAPTER 23: WILLY WANKO’S DWARF PENITENTIARY
Part 1
As I staggered through the jungle, it became clear to me I was being watched. I increased my pace. From behind me I heard the undergrowth rustle, and I caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of my eye. I screamed and started running like a girl, as this is the most efficient method of travelling through a jungle at high speed. I was told this by a wise old hermit, who claimed that women are natural jungle dwellers, whereas men are more at home in wide expansive plains. And it all seems to make sense, doesn’t it? However my train of thought was cut short as the ground beneath my feet fell away and I plunged into a dark pit. As I slipped into unconsciousness I heard the faint sounds of giggling above me…
I awoke to find myself blindfolded and helpless. My hands and feet had been lashed to a pole and I was being carried through the jungle, though I estimated only a foot or so above the ground as I kept bumping into brushes and tree stumps. My captors remained silent aside from the odd grunt. I gibbered in terror.
After a while we stopped, and the blindfold was dragged abruptly from my head. I was temporarily blinded by the sunlight, but as my vision cleared I could see I was in a jungle clearing, at the centre of which was a colossal fortress. Massive walls rose high in the air, the windows blocked with iron bars. Towering towers towered up into the air, surmounted with giant searchlights. Ten foot tall barbed wire fences circled the building, with ominous shapes flapping on them in the distance. Here and there splashes of orange and purple paint had been daubed on the walls, perhaps in a futile attempt to lighten the oppressive atmosphere. I found myself dragged towards a pair of huge wooden gates, above which was a sign marked “Chokoolat Faktorie”. The sign was underlined with a red squiggly paint line, but the meaning of this was lost on me. The gates shuddered open and I was thrown inside, landing in a muddy courtyard. I staggered to my feet (which were now untied) and saw a peculiar fellow standing in front of me. He was a short man, wearing a rather grimy purple suit and top hat, and under his hat, rank greasy yellowy hair hung to his shoulders. His nose was pointy and his eyes were terrible; he had the mad gaze of a man who’s seen too much horror in the world to be entirely sane. He introduced himself.
“Hello, my name is Willy Wanko,” he said. Wanko then shook my hand. I introduced myself in return, an automatic reaction despite my confusion.
“Pleased to meet you, I’m world renowned explorer and adventurer Trevor Faeces, most famous for my discovery of biblical pirate Noah’s holy peg leg.”
I then turned and beheld my captors for the first time. They were strange creatures, around three feet tall with bright orange skin. They wore white dungarees and strange green toupees on their ugly little heads. The weird little freaks glowered back at me.
“What manner of men are these?” I asked, in wonder.
“They’re dwarfs, you fucking idiot,” Wanko replied. “Criminally insane dwarfs. This is my Dwarf Penitentiary.”
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“Have you ever wondered, Mr Faeces, why you never see dwarfs in television dramas set in prison?”
We were in Wanko’s office. It was a mess; his desk was crowded with prison files, unwashed dishes and dirty underpants. Clothes littered the room, and there was a blanket in the corner. He’d obviously been living out of this office for quite some time. I considered his question.
“Now you mention it, I can’t recall ever seeing a dwarf in a prison drama,” I replied.
“There are no dwarfs in Prison Break, or Porridge. The same applies to Hollywood films. There were no dwarfs in Green Mile or Escape From Alcatraz either.”
“Perhaps dwarfs are naturally inclined to be law abiding,” I suggested.
Wanko was taken aback by my suggestion. “No, they’re right little bastards. Take the Wizard of Oz for instance. The film was renowned for the bad behaviour of the dwarf extras. Several cameramen “disappeared” during the making of it, and Judy Garland herself was gang banged by a mob of malevolent munchkins.”
“Then what is the answer then, Wanko?”
“There are no dwarfs in prison on the telly, Trevor, because there are no dwarfs in prison in reality!” Wanko stared at me triumphantly.
“What the hell are you on about?” I was losing my patience with the loon.
“Every prison in the world is entirely devoid of dwarf inmates. The reason for this is simple, they were deemed too dangerous for a normal prison to cope with. What was needed was a high security prison, far away from civilisation, where criminal dwarfs could be safely rehabilitated. A huge facility where every crime committing dwarf in the world could be sent, governed by the foremost dwarf expert in the world.” Wanko’s eyes gleamed with misplaced pride. “This is it, Trevor, the culmination of my life’s work! Willy Wanko’s Dwarf Penitentiary! As approved by the UN.” Wanko pointed to the UN Approval certificate mounted on the wall.
“Then something went wrong?”
“It wasn’t my fault! Something happened, something unforeseen, something terrible, so terrible it drove all the dwarfs insane. Not just insane, but insane in exactly the same way. Which is pretty strange when you think about it. Something so terrible it caused a prison revolt, which in turn has lead to me being imprisoned here. Something unspeakable.”
“So unspeakable you won’t tell me about it?”
“Nah, I’ll tell you about it, naturally.”
“Go on then.”
“OK then I will.” Wanko stared at me for a while. Then he started speaking again. “As part of the rehabilitation process we gave the inmates new names, proper dwarf names, like out of Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs,” Wanko said, looking thoughtful. “In theory this would make them more docile and easy to manage. Unfortunately one of the dwarfs took his new name to heart.”
“What name was that?” I asked.
“Escapey the Dwarf. Naturally, he started escaping from the prison at regular intervals. In hindsight I probably should have chosen a different name. We’d always find him wandering in the jungle, totally lost. Except for the last time…”
I waited for Wanko to continue. He continued.
“Yes, his last escape was his most successful. He evaded capture for several weeks. I thought I’d seen the last of Escapey the Dwarf. But then, on one fateful day he returned. Escapey staggered up to the penitentiary gate, and collapsed. But he was different, horribly changed. His skin was bright orange. He’d been Tangoed.
“Oh my god!” I gasped in horror.
“Indeed.” Wanko shared my horror. “The Tango Man had gotten Escapey. There wasn’t much we could do for the poor dwarf. We carried him into the prison infirmary, where he lapsed into a coma - a persistent vegetative state – basically lying on his bed occasionally weeing himself. We just left him to it. I thought that was the end of the whole beastly affair, but the horror was just beginning…”
“Go on,” I pressed Wanko to continue his story. Which he did.
“We caught glimpses of something moving in the background of the CCTV footage from the prison cameras, something orange and fat - The Tango Man had followed Escapey back here! All too soon other dwarfs were being Tangoed, at first lone dwarfs, but eventually groups of them. At one stage an entire exercise yard full of criminal dwarfs were simultaneously Tangoed. All of them slipped into comas. The UN placed us under quarantine, totally cut off from the rest of the world. We stacked the coma dwarfs on top of each other in the infirmary and waited. Then one day the random Tangoings ceased, as if the Tango Man had moved on. By this stage most of the dwarfs were bright orange and weeing themselves in the infirmary, certain to die. Luckily they were all criminals though so that didn’t bother the authorities.
But then one night, one terrible fateful night, they all woke up. Every single Tangoed dwarf. But the Tangoing experience had driven them all irreversibly mad. They ran riot through the penitentiary, seizing control in a few bloodsoaked hours.”
Wanko was interrupted by a commotion in the prison yard outside. We moved over to the window to have a look. The dwarfs outside seemed to be moving in formation. Then they burst into song –
Oompa Loompa, doompadee doo
We have a horrible fate in store for you
Oompa Loompa, doompadee dee
Forget about escape you’ll never be free
What do you get when you enter our lair?
We’re going to pluck out all of your hair.
Then we’ll chop off both of your legs
How do you like them eggs?
I don't like the look of them
I don't like the look of them
I don't like the look of them
Oompa Loompa doompadee dong
If you are lucky you won’t live long
Eventually we’ll have your knob off too
Like the Oompa Loompa doompadee do
I turned away from the window, disturbed by what I’d seen and heard. “They’re insane!” I cried out in horror.
“Yes, totally insane,” Wanko agreed. They think they’re running a chocolate factory.” He opened a drawer in his desk, revealing dozens of chocolate bars in wrappers. They looked lumpy, and there was a strange smell. “They don’t know anything about making chocolate though, so they use chocolate substitute. Their own shit. It is brown after all.”
“That’s pretty disgusting,” I said, shaking my head in disgust at their disgusting doings on. Wanko started trembling and went pale.
“You don’t understand, there’s nothing else here to eat. There’s nothing else to eat!” he cried out and started weeping hysterically.