Pt. 15

I see a little silhouetto of a man, Scaramouche, Scaramouche, will you do the Fandango? Thunderbolt of lightening, very, very frightening me. Galileo! (Tom Jones: Galileo!) Galileo! (Tom Jones: Johannes Kepler!) Galileo Figaro, magnificoooooooooo.”

No sooner had the words blundered forth in Bo’s maturing-yet-not-quite-able-to-handle-falsetto-voice, than Cob put his arms around Bo and Tom Jones, and whisked them into his home.

“Let me take those gorgeous trench coats for you!” he said. “Wherever did you find denim in such a striking shade of beige? And matching jumpsuits? I must have Inga, my personal tailor and huntswoman, fashion some for me!”

“Now,” he continued, ushering the denim-clad duo into a homey living room, complete with bumble bee patterned wallpaper. “From what you have told me thus far, I feel safe in assuming that you are neither lost wizards nor Avon ladies, both of which turn up at my door several disturbing times a week. So saying, I feel not only comfortable with, but obligated to dispose of this dumpy façade so as to conduct the business at hand in a more, shall we say, harmonious manner.”

Bo and Tom Jones watched in dumbfounded awe as the matronly mountain man removed his plaid flannel attire to reveal a skin tight romper made of hot pink fur. As he peeled away his scruffy beard, Bo and Tom Jones were star struck not only with their host’s total facial transformation, but by the enormous, sparkling ethereal teeth that were hiding behind the faux chin-covering.

“F-F-Freddie… M-M-Mercury?” Gasped Bo, his face turning a shade that was somewhere between ash grey and the color of the immortal Queen vocalist’s romper.

“I thought you were dead so I bought a chinchilla and named him Beans because I like Beans and then I ate him and it was lovely but I was still so so so sad and I watched my entire collection of Winnie the Pooh VHSs and then I smelled cake so I went across the street and found a man making cake and his name was Watson and I said “Hello Watson. I ate my Chinchilla named Beans” and he said “well, how about that?” and then I punched him in the stomach and said that Freddie Mercury had died and he should at least show a little grief and then he started crying and said that I reminded him of his mother and I said "That's better."” Said Tom Jones, who obviously could not put into words the combined sorrow he had felt at the legend’s passing and his amazement to find him alive and well in the mountains of West Virginia.

“Shut up,” said Bo. And the three sat in uncomfortable silence for a moment, before Freddie Mercury began to speak.

 "Well, it has been quite a wild few decades I must say. But dearies, the afterlife just isn't all that it's cracked up to be.  The atmosphere is simply lifeless."

At this, Bo gave a polite chuckle while Tom Jones spew forth an all-out guffaw.

"So," Freddie continued, "I gave the almighty a personal performance of "Don't Stop me Now" and was told that I might return to the "real world" as long as I kept a low profile. So I floated back down to earth in a diamond encrusted gondola drawn by six golden emus and here I am!"

"Well pickle my pig!" said Bo.

"GRRRAAAAAMHHHHH!" yelled Tom Jones, who had just noticed the bees on the wallpaper and thought they were alive.

"As for your quest," continued Freddy, getting up to put a kettle on to boil and don a pair of bunny slippers that matched his romper, "I understand you are looking for the magnificent missing arm of Rick Allen. Of course I know it's whereabouts, you wouldn't be here if I didn't, but I'm afraid that information is between myself and my feline companion, Severus."

"Fine then!" snapped Tom Jones. "If that's the way you want to play it, we'll just ask the Pussycat!"

Bo lifted his beige denim hiking booted feet to make room for Tom Jones who was crawling on the ground crying, "Pussycat, pussycat, I love you. Yes I do! Now come out here and tell uncle Tommy where Rick Allen's arm is."

"Well, Mr. Mercury," began Bo, "you see, it really is of the utmost importance that you share with us your knowledge about the arm. It's crucial actually, as we cannot go on without it."

"I'm afraid I can't help you," said Freddie, handing Bo a cup of piping hot rose hip tea. "Well, I can't without asking for something in return, that is."

"We have very little to give," said Bo.

"Pussycat, pussycat, I've got flowers and lots of hours to spend with you talking about missing arms. Now where's my pussy-"

"Shut up!" cried Bo and Freddie Mercury in unison.