Pancake Day 2: Splash Wednesday: Scenes 1 + 2:


Hello Telly Gunge. It’s playtime. Sorry I couldn’t resist. As you might have already gathered this is the first part of the sequel to my pancake day series which I published last Halloween. You don’t necessarily need to have read the original series, but it will help your enjoyment if you know some of the characters and background, and it’s not that long a series either, so I’d recommend it.

For those not familiar it’s a series based around a horror film franchise. That means I’ve written in what I call script format, where I refer to camera cuts, and the characters dialogue is written with their names followed by the text. I also skip a lot of scenes that don’t have any gunging happening, although in a slight change to the format there will be a couple of non gunging scenes published alongside gunging ones this time to help develop the story a little.

This is a first for me in it’s a spin of or follow up to a previous series which fingers crossed will be successful. I’ve not finished it completely yet, normally I like to wait until I finish a series before I start publishing, but in this case I’m confident I won’t need to make any major revisions, and I couldn’t resist the opportunity to on pancake day itself.
I have tried to do follow ups before, but have never been successful with them. I think the problem has been that I struggled to find anywhere new to go, having already seen my characters complete their story and development arch. Here though it’s a bit different. It helps that it’s not as plot heavy as some of my past projects, so I can do a lot of it just by writing gunging scenes without having to work as hard to set them up. The other help is last time this was a side project to keep me in the habit of writing when taking a break from a more serious project. This means there is still a lot to left to explore with the main character of the series; Princess Porcelain. I will be looking a little more into what motivates her and her followers, who get more than a quick name-check this time. We also get to know a little more about her past, and what drove her to do what she does.

So does this mean I’ll be continuing as a series. It is a possibility. I’ve got the seeds planted in my mind for the plot of a Pancake day 3, including what traps I’d use, and even some ideas for a plot for a 4th one. Right now though those are just ideas, and I know from experience that ideas don’t always automatically translate into me being able to write something useuable, so it’s a case of waiting and see how it goes when the time comes. For now I’m going to be concentrating on getting Pancake Day 2 finished, the first and second scenes of which you can read now:

Scene 1:

The camera starts with a shot of another camera. Some sort of security camera to be exact. It’s clumsily bolted onto an old brick wall in a dark room. We here a familiar voice call out.

Porcelain: Hello Gretel. It’s playtime!

The camera cuts to a shot where it’s looking down on Gretel, who is lying on the floor, gradually becoming aware of her surroundings. She’s an attractive red haired lady in her late thirties, currently wearing a black and white maids uniform. The camera slowly zooms out to show more of the room. It appears to be an old cellar of a grand house, the walls being made of old unpainted bricks. Gretel is on a large circular platform about eight foot across. The outer ring appears to be a foot wide ring of black plastic, the inner section which Gretel is lying on is made out of chain link. This lets us see below the platform, where there’s a six foot drop down into a deep looking pool of white pancake batter. As the camera zooms out further we see the platform is suspended in the air by four chains around the edge, hanging down from the ceiling. We also see six clear plastic cylinders hanging above the platform. The camera cuts to one of them. It’s a three foot vertical plastic cylinder, just narrow enough for someone to squeeze up. We see at the top is a six inch pool of red paint, held in place at the top by some sort of plastic film.

Gretel: Helen Mathews!
Porcelain: I think you’ll find I go by another name now.

The camera cuts to the doorway at the edge of the room. It’s barricaded by a door consisting of vertical and horizontal steel bars. Through them we see Porcelain. She’s wearing a red PVC corset style top, with a black panel and several red straps with buckles decorating the front. Below that she wears a pleated black leather miniskirt and a familiar pair of red tights and knee high, lace up, 7 inch, stiletto platform boots. Her face has been painted with a white mask across her face, with delicate rosy cheeks, blue eye shadow and now ruby red lips to give her a signature doll like appearance. Her hair has been done in an eye-catching funky style, the right side is it’s natural black and hangs down the side of her head freely. The left side has been dyed bright red and given a lot of volume sticking out a couple of inches from her face before draping down.

Gretel: Oh I heard all about your exploits Princess Porcelain. No doubt funded by all that money you stole from our big fundraiser before you disappeared.
Porcelain: Well you’ve got to admit I put it to better use than it would have been put to here. All you ever seemed to ever teach at this College is distain to those who weren’t born with a silver spoon in their mouth.
Gretel: Oh that’s typical of you Helen. You were given the opportunity of a lifetime with a free degree scholarship after it was decided you couldn’t continue to be schooled in your home town. You responded by spending all your time in conflict, and refusing to conform and fit in.
Porcelain: Well that’s better than selling out just to try to be cool like you did. You were always more concerned with how the kids saw you, rather than being the authority figure you should have been. Pandering to the most popular, rather than offering help to the more vulnerable, who might have actually appreciated it. Your attempts to be cool didn’t work by the way. All those popular kids only laughed at you behind your back. They joked that you’d drink paint thinner to get high, just to be cool, which could be a useful skill to have right about now.

The camera cuts to another one of the cylinders, this time filled with green paint at the top, before cutting back to Gretel.

Gretel: Is this supposed to scare me? Hah! I’ve worked here through four rag weeks. Your going to threaten to do more than mess me up to scare me.
Porcelain: Oh Gretel. Not for the first time you’ve severely overestimated your importance in the eyes of others. I don’t deny punishing you for your neglect is a bonus, but what I really want is you out of the way. We’ve got some big plans for this place, and we don’t want you getting in our way in your job as housekeeper.
Gretel: What’s all this crap in aid of then?
Porcelain: Be a bit more appreciative. A lot of efforts been put in to our little play session.

The camera cuts to Gretel as she stares on, angrily but silently.

Porcelain: I didn’t think it would be fare to just lock you up, even having provided food and water and a few other creature comforts next to the pool below. So I came up with this game to play. You’ll notice this door has three padlocks on it. That’s all that’s keeping it shut, at least until the electronic lock on my side activates and seals you in. All you’ve got to do is find the keys before your time runs out.

Gretel glares at Porcelain, but then dashes strait for one of the tubes. Porcelain is caught slightly off guard, but quickly recovers and steps to one side to reveal a small stand behind her with an hour glass on it which she turns over. As she does this the camera cuts to an overhead shot of Gretel’s room. There’s a loud clunk as the platform suddenly drops down six inches, causing Gretel to stumble slightly. The camera cuts to one of the tubes, with a layer of yellow paint at the top. Gretel comes into shot as she squeezes into the tube, reaching up with her hands. She tears the plastic film apart with her hands, causing the paint to fall down on to her head. The camera zooms out as Gretel crouches back down, with a look of annoyance on her face as she wipes some of the paint off. The camera cuts to the pool of paint on the rings that has 5 different keys glistening in it. We see Gretel’s hand quickly grab them. The camera quickly cuts to the hour glass and see about twenty percent of the sand has gone. The camera cuts back to Gretel as she tries the keys on the padlocks. Three are obviously too big or small, but two appear to be the right size. One doesn’t work on any of the padlocks, but one of them causes the middle of the three padlocks to snap open.
As Gretel discards the padlock the platform jolts again, dropping another four inches downwards. Gretel squeezes up into another cylinder, but this time instead of tearing the film apart completely she pierces a smaller whole in the centre, causing a trickle of paint to pour down on her, and then the floor. She then goes around the remaining four cylinders, piercing a hole in the film of each one, causing the paint to drain out. The camera cuts back to the hourglass showing half the sand gone, then back to Gretel, now with several colourful streaks of paint on her head as she crawls round on her hands and knees, looking for keys of the right size for the padlocks. With about a dozen keys in hand she heads back to the door and frantically starts to try all the keys. The fifth one she tries causes one of the padlocks to snap open, causing another loud jolt as the platform falls by another four inches. Gretel frantically tries the remaining keys on the last padlock. None of them fit. Gretel lets out a loud grunt of annoyance, and hits the door before she tries the keys a second time. As she does this the camera cuts to a close up of one of the plastic cylinders, showing a key still caught in the plastic film as a result of Gretel not tearing it apart completely. The camera then cuts to the hour glass as the sand runs out completely. The camera cuts again to the electronic lock on the door, there’s a loud buzz as the light on it changes from green to red.
The camera cuts to a side shot of Gretel, and pans down at speed with Gretel as the platform freefalls down and splashes down into the pool of pancake batter bellow. Gretel looses her footing and quickly submerges along with the platform. Seconds later she sits up in the batter, completely covered in a thick white layer. She lets out a loud grunt of annoyance as she smashes her fist down in frustration.

Roll opening titles:

Scene 2:

We fade into a dimly lit cellar. Judging by the architecture it’s the same building we saw Gretel and Porcelain in, but judging by the decor it’s in a much nicer area. It’s a large room with lots of rectangular wooden tables, arranged in a deliberate fashion, like you’d expect in a restaurant, or more likely a canteen. As the camera pans around it moves in closer on the rooms only two diners. A man and woman, who judging by the way they act towards one another are more than a couple of friends. Both are wearing stylish but practical looking black jumpsuits and are finishing off a pizza between them, and helping themselves to more wine. As we see more detail it’s apparent that these are people we know. The female is Sandy, Porcelain’s old best friend, who escaped from a trap in the previous film. Since we last saw her though she’s dyed her hair a dark purple, and now has a number of facial piercings. The male of the couple is Porcelain’s old ally Dwayne. On his feet are a pair of mid heeled black boots you’d normally expect a female to wear. As the camera shows his face we see he’s grown his blonde hair out long, and is wearing red lipstick and pink eye shadow. Before we get to learn a little more about this odd couple they’re interrupted.

Porcelain: Woo Hoo!
Sandy: Hi Porcelain. I take it things went well.

The camera cuts to Porcelain as she enters. She has her eyes closed and her arms around her body, like she’s hugging herself in ecstasy. After a few seconds she stops to reply.

Porcelain: I was a little worried towards the end, when it looked like Gretel might actually escape. Luckily though it seemed fate wasn’t on her side, it was on ours.
Sandy: Come sit down and have some wine with us.
Porcelain: That’s O.K. I’m more of a (insert product placement here) and soda girl myself.

Porcelain strides over to a nearby counter to make herself a drink, and takes a large mouthful, before joining Dwayne and Sandy, sitting on the edge of the table next to them.

Sandy: So this is where you were sent after that awful prank back in Southbrook.
Dwayne: It seems like quite a nice place.
Porcelain: Don’t be fooled by the luxury. When your surrounded by a bunch of vile people, who won’t play with you, unless it’s to bully and torment you it just becomes a gilded nightmare.
Dwayne: We all know what it’s like to be spurned and mocked by society, and are ready to teach people a proper lesson. Just like we did back in Southbrook.
Sandy: Try not to get caught by the police this time. They now know I’ve aligned with you, so I won’t be able to keep them occupied while Porcelain busts you out of jail.
Porcelain: I know one thing about the lessons we’re going to teach. It will be a better lesson than anything the glorified babysitters here have ever taught. I’m so excited now everything’s falling into place. Gretel’s out of the way, we’re on schedule with the construction of the other playrooms in the cellar, and Gary hacked into the computers to ensure certain individuals will be returning from home a few days early.
Sandy: Where is Gary at the moment?
Porcelain: He’s out laying down a few explosive charges along the banks of the nearby river. When the time is right we can flood the access road to cut everyone off.
Sandy: Is he going to be alright out there on his own?
Porcelain: He should be. He’s always happier working on his own during situations like this.
Sandy: That’s true enough.
Porcelain: Speaking of time on your own I’ll make my move now. I don’t want to disturb your time together too much.

With that Porcelain downs the last half of her drink and exits up the stairs.

Dwayne: Is it me or has she been showing a lot of interest in us these last few days?
Sandy: I think I know why. Didn’t you see the list of people we’ve invited? You must have spotted a boys name on there.
Dwayne: I did. I noticed actually as I thought it was mainly the other girls here who gave her such a hard time.
Sandy: I don’t think that’s why he’s invited. Did Porcelain ever mention she had a boyfriend while she was here. From what I gather he was a bit of an outcast like us.
Dwayne: She never mentioned it to me or Gary. I guess she’d be less willing to talk about that with us boys, or at least those who were born male.
Sandy: To be honest she’s been a little vague on the subject with me, but I think she’s got something in mind. Maybe she’s going to set up a special play session, like she did with me.
Dwayne: Well it worked then. It’s what got you out of that bad place you were in.

By the same Author


Posted in Paint, Stories | Tagged | Leave a comment

Comeuppance – Episode 4 result


The segment opens with Sian and the two guards standing next to the chair in front of the Mucky Dip.

Sian: Welcome back to Comeuppance, with me, Sian Welby. Voting has continued apace in this tight contest, and we’re very grateful to all who have done their democratic duty. Without your participation, we couldn’t have a show, so thank you. However, polling is now closed, so please don’t try to call in. If you do, your vote won’t count and you may still be charged.

Sian and the guards approach the cages.

Sian: Ladies, we’re just doing a final verification of the scores. It’s important to get this right, after all. We wouldn’t want to persecute the innocent, would we Stacy?

Stacy: [looking worried] W..why you asking me?

Sian: Cos that’s what you TV licence people do! [Strolls on to the right-hand cage] How you doing Deborah?

Deborah: [trying to look cool] Not too bad Sian.

Sian: [dawdles across to the left-hand cage] You feeling good about this, Lizzie?

Lizzie: [twitching] Can we just get on with it!?

Sian: Wow, first time I’ve seen a lawyer not want to drag out proceedings! Ok, here goes.

The lights go down, except for three beams illuminating the cages. The dramatic background music plays.

Sian: The public have delivered their verdict, and it is as follows:





The lights go up.

Deborah: [dancing] Oh yeah! Oh yeah!

Stacy: [exhaling] Oh, thank goodness!

Lizzie: [turning very pale] I want to refer this to a judge!

Sian: And the lead has switched! Guys, take Lizzie away to serve her sentence!

The guards unlock the door of Lizzie’s cage.

Lizzie: Wait! I have right of appeal! You can’t…

The guards yank Lizzie out of the cage and frogmarch her over to the chair while she struggles with every fibre of her being.

Lizzie: Let go of me! This is kidnap and false imprisonment! Cruel and unusual punishment! ASSAULT! ASSAULT!!

While Lizzie’s protestations continue in the background, Sian unlocks Deborah’s cage.

Sian: DeborahLeavesDeborah, I hate to say it, but you’re going back to North London as clean as you came, without your curly hair full of our nasty muck. How do you feel?

Deborah: Vindicated, Sian. We payday lenders have taken a lot of [moo!] from a vocal minority, but now the people have spoken and the hand-wringers can shut the [moo!] up!

Sian: Jammy Dodger TrophyDo you mind?! We haven’t had to use the naughty word bleeper for a couple of episodes now, and that includes the contestants getting gunged! Here, have a Jammy Dodger trophy to put in your window next to your ludicrous interest rates. Thanks for coming on the show.

Deborah: Mmm not a bad bit of bling this. Do you fancy parting with that bracelet or that necklace? I’m also in the business of buying gold and jewellery.

Sian: [instinctively covers her jewellery] No thank you! You’re like a magpie! Ladies and gents, a grubby little round of applause for Deborah please.

The audience slow-claps as Deborah walks off the stage, inspecting the trophy to see how much she can make from it. Sian moves on to the still-caged Stacy.

Sian:stacy7 Stacy, the voters have spared you the Mucky Dip this time round, but you’ll be back here next week, and you may get your comeuppance yet!

Stacy: [looking sanguine after her escape] I expect every single viewer to have a TV licence by then!

Sian: [walking over to the plinth] Actually folks, it is possible to watch Comeuppance legally without a licence – through our catch-up service. Simply visit, where you can watch the comeuppances over and over again! [Arrives at the plinth] And speaking of comeuppances, it’s that time of the show again! Izzy wizzy, let’s get Lizzie in the muck!

The fateful music plays as the scene switches to the edge of the Mucky Dip. The camera takes in the lumpy morass of grey-blue, red-pink and straw-coloured goo before ascending. A metre up, it meets Lizzie’s small bare feet, her toenails painted the same rouge shade as her fingernails. The camera proceeds up her dark trousers and past her lap. Lizzie sits with her hands on her hips. Onwards, the camera pans up her jacket and white shirt. Lizzie’s flame hair is tousled after her struggle with the guards. Her thin lips pout and her eyes roll upwards – perhaps to express her displeasure at the situation, or maybe to avoid looking at the muck.

Lizzie awaits her comeuppance

Sian: Dear me, she looks like a teenager who’s just been grounded!

Lizzie: [through gritted teeth] You are one button-press away from a very expensive lawsuit.

Sian: [holds up a piece of paper] Sorry Liz, but we have a contract here with your signature, agreeing to everything that’s about to happen to you! [Places hand on button] On behalf of everyone who’s been preyed upon by personal injury lawyers…

Sian and audience: HERE IS YOUR COMEUPPANCE!!!

Sian pounds the button, setting off the usual pyrotechnic spectacular. Hands still on hips, Lizzie drops to her demise. A huge cheer reverberates around the studio as gunge splashes skywards. A tsunami of the sickly colours surges over the rim, the lumpy mixture crawling down the side of the vat. An unsavoury squelching sound effect plays while the cables jiggle about. Then the cables tighten and winch their victim upwards, while the Fanfare of Humiliation plays.

To everyone’s amusement, Lizzie still has her hands on her hips, but that’s the only thing that is unchanged. The smart, smarmy, suit-sporting solicitor is now a manky muck-mangled mess, wearing the three unappealing colours in generous and roughly equal measure. One foot and leg is a coated in the fleshy pink-red, the other slathered in the dirty grey-blue, and there is a great pile of straw-coloured slop in her lap. Lizzie’s jacket looks like a Jackson Pollock painting, with overlaying stripes and splodges of the various colours. Her slimy, saturated shirt brings out the shape of what is a relatively ample bust for a petite woman, her boobs further emphasised by a coating of pink-red gunge in contrast to the surrounding blue. At her unbuttoned neck, lumps can be seen to run down inside her shirt.

A great mound of malodorous blue goo is piled atop Lizzie’s head. As for her face, this is coated with some particularly sicky beige gunk, with a little spot of off-pink on her nose. On one side, her basic facial features can be seen embossed in the gunk, albeit distorted by lumps, and a single eye blinks in shook. The other side of her face is completely misshapen, and it is only Lizzie’s gaping mouth that reveals her hair is plastered over this side.

Lizzie’s hands finally detach from her hips. They rise in front of her, claw-like as she spasms in the seat, then move in to rescue her face. She peels back the gunky curtain that is her hair, gagging at the taste in her mouth.

Lizzie: Greeeughhh-hhugghh-hhugghh! [Moo! Moo! Mooooo!!]

Sian: Oh dear, Daisy the cow is getting quite a workout tonight! Talk about a sus—OOHHHH!!

Sian reacts as four cream cannons erupt at the rim of the Mucky Dip – one in front of Lizzie, one behind, one at each side. The cheering of the audience crescendos to new heights as copious amounts of stale cream blast upwards at Lizzie. Within two seconds she is completely white.

Sian: My oh my! I didn’t know about that feature! Talk about a suspended sentence! An extremely popular comeuppance, judging by the reaction, and one that’s worth enjoying again in slow motion.

First up is the slow version of Lizzie’s comical hands-on-hips descent. Although her bodily stance is largely unmoved, her face can be seen to transform from defiance to dismay, as she realises that her legal threats have failed to save her and her gunging is a reality.

Sian: And the bird’s-eye shot!

The replay shows the mucky morass shimmer and shake as Lizzie’s feet penetrate, followed by a huge splash as her thighs and backside go in. Her ginger hair drapes on the surface for a moment, whirling in the vortex, before it too succumbs to the slop.

Sian: And finally the poolside view!

The rimside camera shows that Lizzie’s red-painted toenails are the first thing to enter the muck, followed by her feet and then trousers. Her pelvis and arms make a massive splash and there is just time to see her face in a grimace before sludge coats the camera.

The scene returns to present, Lizzie has wiped the worst from her face, but is otherwise throughly coated in the white cream and her gungy undercoat. The red of her hair is nowhere to bee seen. She shakes from a mixture of the slop’s cold embrace, sheer disbelief and immense humiliation.

Sian: So justice has been served, juris horribilis. Liz, you can slither back to Scotland and pursue your next compensation claim in your present state. With a smell like that, you’ll surely be in contempt of court! Ha ha ha!

Lizzie: [snaps, throwing her arms up] My next court case will be a claim against you, Welby!

Sian: Waste your time if you want. Anyway Liz, you were a good sport to sign up for this, even if you were less sporting at taking your punishment, so we’re grateful to you for that.

Lizzie: We’ll see who’s [moo!] sporting in court! This ain’t over! I’ll—glub!

The cream cannons let rip again, straight into Lizzie’s open mouth.

Sian: She’s right about one thing; it ain’t over! [Moves to the front of stage] And that brings us to the end of another very satisfying episode of Comeuppance! Don’t forget, this show is for you the people, so tell us what you think of the show and which professions you’d like to see face the Mucky Dip! Thank you for watching and good night!

The funky outro music commences and the camera zooms out from the stage, away from a waving Sian and over a jubilant audience. The scene then switches to Stacy, biting her nails as she looks up at the messy carnage through the bars of her cage. Then the camera is back on Lizzie, scowling as she tries to wring the muck out of her hair. The crew keep switching the cream jets on and off to tease her. The parting scene is a slow-mo of Lizzie’s head, shoulders and torso emerging from the muck, slathered in the nasty gunge.

Posted in Foam/soap, Gunge, Stories | 6 Comments

Comeuppance – Episode 4 update

The segment starts with a close up of Sian’s face. It is screwed up in disgust and her neck is awkwardly twisted, as if she is trying not to face something. The camera zooms out, showing that Sian is up a ladder against the mucky dip. A wooden plank in her hands, she stirs the contents like a cauldron.

Sian Welby

Sian: Euugh, hi there folks. This is far closer to the Mucky Dip then I’d like to be, but the crew warned me it was getting over-congealed in here.

She inches her face towards the vat and peers in with her lips pursed.

Sian: I think that’ll do it. Pwwwfff! The smell gets really bad when you churn up all these dregs!

Sian pulls out of the plank, feigning a struggle against the muck, complimented by a sucking sound effect. When she finally retrieves the plank, the goo covering it is predominantly greyish blue, with pinkish and straw-coloured streaks. Lumps deform downwards like stalactites before plopping off, and an object dangles from the end.

Sian: What on Earth is that?! Looks like an old sock!

The audience laughs. Sian descends the ladder and hands the plank to one of the guards.

Sian: Is that one of yours, Charlie? Take it away and destroy it in a safe manner! Dear me, the things I do for this show! [Approaches the cages] But of course, it will be far, far worse for one of our contestants, and deservedly so! Ladies, voting has been brisk as always, and I have here the midway scores, which may offer you a glimmer of hope or pang of despair accordingly. But before I reveal them, I think you should see what I’ve just seen. So without further ado…


Sian: Indeed! Let’s preview that goo!

The bird’s-eye camera makes its usual spiraling zoom into the Mucky Dip. The gunge is made up of patches of a dirty greyish blue, a stale straw colour, and an unappealing reddish-pink. The colours have been swirled into intermingling streaks where Sian has stirred the goo. The scene then switches to the rim-side camera. The surface has a toe-curling lumpy texture and a dull finish, looking slightly crusted. Furrows are still visible where Sian has stirred. While all this is shown, an inset box cycles through the chastened faces of the three women.

Sian: Oh yes, let me tell you, a most unpalatable waft comes up when you break the skin on the top! Hold that image in mind, ladies, while we take a look at the midway polling:


Stacy stands stunned, her mouth slightly open. Her eyes keep flicking away from the screen and then back again. She clearly wasn’t expecting this result at all. In the adjacent cage, Lizzie too looks perturbed. She gazes upwards and whispers something that probably isn’t family-friendly. Deborah, by contrast, clenches her fists and hisses “yes!”

Sian: It’s another close one and that’s how we like them! Stacy with a nudging lead, but Lizzie very close behind. And Deborah… really Deborah I wouldn’t look too pleased, because you’re not that far behind. Stacy, are you alright there? You look like you’ve seen a ghost!

Stacy: I, erm… I…

Sian: [Turns to the camera] Stacy’s right to worry. But though we may be harsh on this show, we always strive to be fair. That’s why I’m going to give each of our contestants 15 seconds to address you the public directly, to explain why you shouldn’t condemn them to the Mucky Dip. [Turns back to the cages] Deborah, the nation has lent you its ears; let’s hope it doesn’t charge too much interest.

Deborah: Deborah4[in animated fashion, waving her arms] I came on this show cos I’m sick of hand-wringing nanny-staters giving us lenders grief! My clients are grown-ups and if they wanna be mathematically-challenged schmucks then they got every right to be math…

The klaxon blasts and the audience boos. Deborah makes an obscene gesture at them.

Sian: No need for that, if you don’t mind! Now Lizzie, if you would please make the case for your defence.

Lizzie: lizzie5[sternly] There’s a wee thing called double jeopardy which means I shouldn’t be here facing retrial. A vote for me is a wasted vote, because I will find a loophole that lets me wriggle out of this – just you see!

The Klaxon blares and the audience boos loudly.

Sian: [scoffs] Well good luck with that Lizzie, because we have some excellent lawyers too!

Lizzie tries to look dismissive but her blinking shows she’s rattled.

Sian: Now Stacy, it’s your moment to plead with all those viewers you extract licence fees from.

Stacy: Stacy[shaken but defiant] Now look here! I don’t know why anyone should vote for me! If you’ve already bought your TV licence, you have nothing to fear from me. And if you haven’t, then you shouldn’t be watching! SWITCH OFF!!

The klaxon snarls and the audience boos profusely.

Sian: Stacy, has it ever occurred to you that your paid-up customers might be just as fed up with the TV licence?

Stacy’s frown indicates it hasn’t occurred to her.

Sian: [turns to the camera] And that’s all there is to say folks. The Mucky Dip is ready and waiting, but only you can decide who goes in it. Keep those votes coming in and don’t miss the concluding part of the show, when one of these women behind me will get her comeuppance! Ooo yeah!

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The Benton Academy VS Manchester Academy Football Game

The Benton Academy VS Manchester Academy Football Game.
A Sequel to ‘The Pie Pod’

Lana took a deep breath as he peered toward the wooden four posted tank that had been rolled into the middle of the field. The first breath of autumn was blowing across the field and the faint noise of people booming or cheering from a thousand or so voices filled the air. The longer she peered toward the tank, the longer her cheeks started to flush with color. It was a deep blush that was quickly starting to match the color of her hair.

“So, you must scared.” A voice beyond Lana said. The voice belonged to a young women, around the age of eighteen or nineteen. The women had long blonde hair that reached down to the small of back, she wore a simple cotton dress that was pastel pink in color. Plastic matching pink, plastic sandals completed her outfit.

“Not really.” Lana said shifting her eyes toward the source of voice, the voice belonged to a classmate, her name was Sarah and she was a grade or so above her. Among the folks at Benton Academy she was considered by all the queen. Her request, where often treated as royal degrees and her suggestions where treated with the same relevance as the ten comments.

“Good, because right now there bringing our hostage over now.” Sarah said peering toward a young women with raven colored hair. She was flanked by the whole twelve women squad of the Benton Academy cheerleading squad. The cheerleaders dressed in there white an’ scarlet uniforms all wore grins upon there face as the smirked toward the women at there center.

“She looks scared.” Lana stated as she peered toward the women. She was dressed in a simple outfit, a light cotton blouse, daisy yellow in color. A simple white skirt that reached down to her knees, cotton stocking and Mary-Janes with a big brass buckle completed the outfit.

“She does, I’m sure she some kind of poor freshman that been drafted or forced to take part. She too simple really, not the type that would attend these sporting events. Poor girl, I’m sure she knows at the end of the night, she going to be totally covered in are school colors.” Sarah said taking a deep breath as she grinned softy. “And I was hoping to slime one of those stuck up cheerleaders.”

Lana did not say a word as she watched the cheerleaders guide the girl over to there side. Smiling a little she took a seat down at one of the plastic chairs. Lana then raised her eyes to catch sight of a honor guard of cadets dressed in there ‘Class A’ uniforms. There must have been eighteen or so of them. All marching in step.

“There quite a sight.” Sarah said peering toward them. “Look at them, they must have taken all day to polish there drill rifles to make them shine like that. And look at those swords, I know those swords have no blade, but they make quite the sight.” She added as she peered toward the cadets who wore swords, strapped at there waist. Most of them had small silver disk pinned to the shoulder boards of there coats. Marking them as commissioned officers in academies JROTC program.

“Right..” Lana said taking a deep breath as watched a captain, she guessed he was a captain because he had three round disk pinned to his shoulders. Quickly she drew her eyes toward the cadet. Slowly he strolled toward the front of the bandstands.

“As agreed upon by both the homecoming courts of Benton Academy and Manchester Academy, are hostage has been delivered. One Heather Elizabeth Upton. We now require you to hand over your hostage, Lana Taylor Edwards.” He paused and took a deep breath. “Both of whom, have given there constant to slimed in the winning schools colors.” He speech was formal and stiff.

Lana took a deep breath as she stepped forward. The captain of the guard took a deep breath as he motioned for three of the men under in his command to go and take Lana by the hand. The jester was understood by those who it was aimed at, for soon, three cadets wearing swords stepped out. Two of them took Lana by the hand. Smiling a little they wrapped there glove covered fingers around her shoulders as they guided her toward the platoon of waiting cadets.

It took only two minutes for the armed squads to make there way across the field. Without saying a word, the two cadets that held Lana tight in there hold, quickly dropped her into a wooden chair that had been set up among cheerleaders. A post of six cadets armed with old M1 rifles then took there position. It a clear sign to all, the tour de force had been mention to inspire fear and loathing in the other team. The display screamed, ‘Look Raiders, we have one of your own students under arm guard. And there nothing you can do to save her.’

Lana for the most part could only look on, as the opening kick was made and the football game got underway. The minutes seem to drag by as Benton Academy made one bad play after the next and one touch down after another was scored by the hated rival of Manchester Academy. The cheerleaders on the other side had taken to chanting “Go team go! Free Heather! And slime the hostage!”

Lana could only blush at these chants and shifted her weight from on part of her bottom to the other. Right now the prospects of getting out of her clean where slipping through her fingers. Each touch down scored and each yard given up inched her a little closer to a very slimey fate.

But on the other side of the field, Heather was cheering the battered and bruised players on, promising each one a kiss on the cheeks of they delivered her from the hands of enemy. Her pleads seemed to embolden the players and like Wildman they guarded the leather football. Beating back with all there strength the greedy hands of there attackers.

The score at halftime foreshadowed a victory by the home team. Manchester Academy was leading with a score of thirty four to a score of fourteen. The brief paused in the action, allowed for Lana to collected her thoughts before the second half of the game resumed. Taking a deep breath she reached into her pocket and pulled out a long string of glass beads.

By her very nature, Lana was something of a carefree person, the last time she had attended Mass was some weeks ago, when her mother had dragged her and her sister from there nice warm beds. Indeed she could still remember being dragged from her nice warm collection of blankets and pillows, being forced into the shower, having ice cold water poured upon her body. Squeezing herself into a nice proper dress and being hauled into the awaiting car.

Then enduring the twenty minute trip from there little cottage in the sticks to downtown Yazoo City, and then worst of all having to sit in the musty, incense filled church and listen to the Proper Latin Rite being read by one Fr. O’keen, one of the last of the classic Irish Priest. She recalled nothing of the service, only recoiling in confusion as Fr. O’keen had offered her the host. She still pondered when Erin switched from exporting priest to pork. As most of pork products brought into the house had the label ‘Proud product of Ireland’ as if the merchant was proud to sell pork from the stepchild of the Islas.

Not that any of this mattered. But it did help her pass the time and endure the horrible halftime show the brass marching band put on for the entertainment for those who had turned out to support the players. Despite the intense rivalry between the two, both sides applauded. The slaughter resumed again.

And what a slaughter it was, control of the ball never left Manchester’s hands, as a result they scored one touch down after another after another. By this time, the defeat was a real possibility for Benton Academy along with seeing there hostage being slimed in twenty gallons of green, pastel colored slime. The slime was a classic mixture of cake batter and eggs and cooking oil.

“Hey.” A voice behind Lana said. The voice belonged to a young girl with chestnut brown hair, “No hard feeling right.” She said offering her hand to Lana, her pale blue eyes seem to almost twinkle in the light cast by bright floodlights.

Lana blinked and blinked again as she peered toward the young girl. Quickly her baby blue eyes locked with the hers. Without saying a word she reached down and took the offered hand and forced herself to smile, what else could she do. “Nan.” She said grinning a lopsided grin. Still smiling she squeezed the offered hand and then allowed her arms to drop at her side.

“Good,” The girl paused as she peered toward the odd looking tank that was being loaded now with forest green slime. Bucket by bucket was being passed to one, solo student who was filling the reservoir above the tank. “Man.. It must be like, like having your foot stuck between two railroad ties, and peering toward the headlamp of a oncoming train.” She said signing, she then rolled her shoulders a little. “Glad its not me.” She quickly added before going off to the sidelines.

“Something like that..” Lana said taking a deep breath as she stood up. Quickly she started to smooth out the wrinkles that had formed in her clothing. In the course of her conversation with girl, the game had ended and home team had won a stunning victory. The tank was also now fully loaded and was in the process of being wheeled into the center of the field.

“And what a game that was, ladies and gentleman.” A loud voice proclaimed over the sound system. “The final score, Manchester forty one to Benton Academy twenty one. Now, before we close for the evening, I would like to call your attention to center of the field. Before the game, both sides gave up one of there students as a hostage.” There was a pause. “ The hostage from the losing school would, covered in what the young folks are calling slime.”

“Guess that my cue.” Lana said taking a deep breath as she stood up and pushed the plastic chair back, releasing her breath she allowed herself to taken by shoulder as two cadets.

“Sorry about this.” Whispered the one on Lana’s right.

“Just following orders..” Quickly added the one on Lana’s

“No hard feelings.” Lana said sweat dropping a little as she was lead onto the field. Taking a deep breath she watched the one of the two, the one on her right leave her side to open the clear plastic door. Once the door was open, she stepped inside and eased her bottom down upon the heavy wooden stool, that had been placed just above the dripping tank. Once she was seated, she folded her hand in her lap and closed her eyes as she heard the heavy plastic door being closed.

Once Lana was sealed inside her plastic tomb, a loud count down started. Lana felt her cheeks turn a bright red as she peered toward the tank sitting above her head, a soft whimper escaped her lips as the seconds slowed down and time itself seemed to stop almost. Her eyes grew wide as a heavy rain of forest green slime fell down upon her head.

Being heavy, the slime rolled down her head, and down her back, it clung to her hair and her skin. A sudden shutter ran down Lana’s back as she felt some of the slop running down her back, her blouse was totally covered and the thick mixture clung to her hourglass like figure. As the last few drops dripped down on her, Lana felt a sudden rage building inside of her. Just like that night at the county club. She though as she felt the green sludge pool around her ankles.

It took a solid minute for the shower of slime to slowly stop. Once the vault above her head was empty the plastic door open and a sudden blast of early autumn hair smacked Lana in the face, signing she forced herself to rise up from the hard wooden seat and gently she made her way onto the grassy field.

Once she felt herself touch the cold, damp earth, a feeling of safety washed over her, the worst of it was over for now at least. She’ll spend the part the weekend cleaning herself up, and then come Monday she sink back into the hollow halls of academia. Then she’ll do her best to keep a low profile and her nose clean, and maybe, just maybe when the fall carnival came around, she’ll not be drafted into playing a part.

The End.

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Comeuppance – Episode 4 introduction



The show opens with a high-heeled Sian strutting out onto the stage, smiling and waving as the audience clap and whistle.

Sian: Hello! Thank you very much! I’m Sian Welby, and it’s my pleasure to welcome you to another episode of Comeuppance, the show where the downtrodden take power and the wicked get mucky!

More cheering from the audience.

Sian: I’m sure most of you know how the show works by now, but for those unlucky enough to miss the first three episodes, here’s a quick run-through. We meet three contestants representing disliked professions, you the public vote on which makes your blood pressure surge the highest, and that person gets their just desserts in our yucky, Mucky Dip!

The camera sweeps over the rim of the tall, cylindrical vat, above which the chair is parked. Presently there’s too much dry ice mist to see what’s inside.

Sian: Oh yes, in that vat lurks the slopiest, slimiest, stinkiest punishment on all of television! It makes “I’m a Celeb” look like a weekend in a luxury spa. There’s been plenty of speculation on social media as to what exactly goes into our muck, but from the guesses I’ve read so far, you’re not even close! But whatever it is, one of our three contestants will be getting well acquainted with it! Let’s meet them.

The personal injury lawyer
Sian: Reappearing in the Comeuppance Court is last week’s runner-up Lizzie, a 27-year-old personal injury lawyer from Dundee.

The two men in guard uniforms wheel on a cage containing Lizzie, while the audience boos and hisses.

Sian: Lizzie, did you hear about the personal injury lawyer who was in a traffic accident himself?

Lizzie: No.

Sian: The ambulance braked suddenly!

There follows a muted snare drum sound effect and a smattering of groans.

Lizzie: [with arms folded] Ha ha. You know, I’m not at all pleased to be dragged back here again. Time is money and you’re wasting it. You’re lucky I’m not charging you to answer these questions, because my rate’s fifty pounds a question.

Sian: You charge fifty quid just for answering a question?

Lizzie: Yes. That’s a hundred you’d owe me by now.

Sian: Ok, let me try a more probing question. Last week the public showed their strong disapproval and voted you within a whisper of a comeuppance. Did this give you cause to examine your conscience?

Lizzie: Sorry, my what? I’ve heard of cross-examining a witness, but I’ve no idea what you’re talking about. By the way, that brings you up to £150.

Sian: [incredulous] Huh? How can you charge me when you didn’t even answer the question?!

Lizzie: Because I can. That’s two hundred and fifty.

Sian: Why two hundred and fifty?

Lizzie: That “huh?” was definitely a question. Three hundred!

Sian: I think we better leave it there. I’ll ask the audience a question instead: would you like to see Lizzie dunked in our foul muck?

Audience: YESSSS!!! [cheering wildly]

Lizzie snorts loudly, but there’s a quiver of her lip that she can’t quite hide.

Sian: [smiling as she turns to the camera] I’d say that’s a unanimous verdict, and no doubt you folks at home have a similar answer. But before you dial in, let’s meet the other contestants; they may be even more deserving of a comeuppance!

The TV licensing enforcement officer
Sian: Our second contestant is Stacy. She’s 26, from Bath, and she’s been a TV licensing enforcement officer for three years.

Stacy is wheeled on to the standard boos and jeers.

Sian: Full disclosure, Stacy: we’re a commercial broadcaster and the BBC is one of our rivals, but there’s no denying that the TV licence has come under fire in recent years. Some call it an archaic tax that feeds a bloated organisation and makes no sense in the internet era.

Stacy: [shrugs] I don’t care about the pros and cons, Sian. It’s the law to have a TV licence if you watch TV, and my job is to enforce the law. You can’t say “I think that law is silly so I’m not going to obey it”; it doesn’t work like that.

Sian: But do you have to be so heavy-handed? We’re getting tweets from viewers saying they are continually hounded by you people, even though they’ve told you a hundred times they don’t watch TV.

Stacy: Viewers, eh? Who don’t watch TV? That’s a good one! I’m going to make a note of those tweets and investigate every single one. [Looks directly into the camera] Now listen up! if you’re watching without a licence, you’d better get one before I catch you. Because believe me, catch you I will! [Jabs a finger at the camera] Yes, I’m talking to YOU!!

The audience boos.

Sian: Ooooo, scary! Well Stacy, as much we don’t condone breaking the law, there may be more temptation if you find yourself above our Mucky Dip. It’ll be compulsive viewing!

Stacy responds with a pouting smirk and a small shake of the head.

Sian: [faces forwards] But before you phone in to condemn Stacy, or indeed Lizzie, it’s only fair you meet our final contestant. Let’s bring her on!

The payday lender
Sian: The last of tonight’s contemptible contenders is Deborah. She’s 25, from North London, and she’s run a payday loans business for the last five years.

There is much booing and hissing as Deborah’s cage is wheeled on.

Sian: Deborah, I’ll get straight to the point. According to your website, the interest rate you charge on your loans is more than 6,000%. Six thousand percent!

Deborah: [yawns and waves a hand dismissively] That’s just an illustrative annual rate that the law forces us to publish. It doesn’t really mean anything because most of our loan periods are much shorter than a year… if the customer pays on time, of course.

Sian: But even if it were for only one day, that’s a scandalous interest rate!

Deborah: Boo hoo. If it makes you unhappy, you can always undercut me. Why don’t you lend your money to these individuals at a nice low rate? Eh? Not keen? [Looks out to the audience] What about you hypocrites? Any takers?

The audience boos back at her.

Deborah: Yeah, I hear a lot of noise, but there’s no money where those mouths are! Fact is, Sian, I lend to individuals no-one else will lend to. It’s only thanks to me, putting my dosh on the line, that they can borrow at all!

Sian: But some people really shouldn’t be racking up debt.

Deborah: [shrugs] They’re adults. I’m not their nanny. They’re responsible for their own decisions and the consequences.

Sian: I’m glad you believe that Deborah, because the consequences of losing this show are very severe, and attract more interest than one of your loans!

Deborah sticks out her tongue and waggles her head in a contemptuous fashion. Sian walks forward to address the camera.

Sian: Well you heard it all there. Three very unrepentant sinners. In an ideal world they would all get their comeuppance, but sadly there’s only space for one on that seat up there. You, the British public, must decide who fills it. Should it be Lizzie, the personal injury lawyer whose middle name is fee? Should it be Stacy, the TV licensing officer who pesters you with letters and house-calls? Or should it be Deborah, the payday lender whose interest rates are nothing short of shocking? The numbers are up on your screen. Get voting!

Poll closes at 10 pm on Saturday 6th February. You may vote once every 12 hours if you so wish.

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