Chapter Twelve. A Parliament of Owls in Full Attack

There was nothing but scratching and feathers for what seemed an eternity. The swooping masses came in droves. There were Finches, Pigeons, a tower of Falcons and a parliament of Owls all in full attack. Blissful E. Bear was barely able to see let alone fathom the swooping and lifting of bodies before him. He felt a hand clutch his paw and drag him to shelter, a group of wheelie bins and a few empty bottles of clean-skin wine. The noise was likened only to standing in the flight path of a dozen 747s landing at once. When the racket finally subsided there was a layer of white droppings, one standing canine and the worst nightmares of a car dealership.

"So that wasn't so bad," Leonard remarked taking a drag from his cigarette, sitting on the bonnet of one of the sedans, next to him looking dazed, was the bruised and battered resemblance of Blissfuls's brother Matt.

The cloaked woman in red stood and dusted herself off, Blissful lifted himself awkwardly to his feet and walked towards the car.

"I've never felt so much like Tippi Hedron in all my life," the 1950s pinup cringed.

"Who?" Leonard asked.

"Forget it," she replied. "Just help me get out of this shit-covered hood."

As Blissful got closer to the car he saw that the bruising under Matt's left cheek was so substantial he looked as though he had been given a third eye. He gripped his human half-brother with all his might and felt his brother's limbs respond as ably as they could.

"It's good to see you again," Blissful sighed.

Matt's hand snapped tight against Blissful's shoulder.

"There's something you need to know about our parents," Matt whispered with a deathly seriousness.

Chapter Eleven. Anyone Got a Light?

The redhead let out a shrill cry, "There's no way they could have anticipated us!"
The sparrow-faun stretched its impressive wing-span and at once ascended into the night.
"Where is he going?" Blissful E. Bear shouted after the creature.
"She is going to hopefully save our necks."
"And what about the pooch?" Blissful asked.
The two cloaked ladies exchanged the quickest of glances, before dropping the dog onto its paws, watching it with fervor. The white mess of hair looked back at its audience with little more than a passing glance before proceeding to chase a flea on its upper thigh.
"Is that it?" Blissful sighed. "One cowardly godzilla-sparrow and a flea ridden mutt?"
"Hey! This dog is cleaner than you'll ever be, bear!" The redhead scolded.
"Not to be a bother," the 1950s pinup interrupted. "But I think we have more pressing matters at hand."
The convoy was getting closer, the group were seconds away from a wash of headlights, and a promise of uncertainty. The power lines were punctuated with a dozen little birds, Blissful noticed, and as he watched, more seemed to scuttle down and settle.
"Is that something to do with our not so hero-like bird friend?" Blissful asked.
"I sure hope so," the redhead sighed.
Suddenly, the small white dog lost all interest in attacking its hind leg and grew before them into what appeared to be the missing Blues Brother, suited all in black. Its face the only part still canine.
"Man that stings," the hound spoke.
"Really?" said Blissful. "You're a talking hound and that's the first thing you say?"
"Who brought this guy?" The hound retorted.
The cars screeched to halt before the four of them and out jumped six henchmen, all curiously wearing overalls. Behind them, strolling leisurely were two ginger-haired women in business suits. In the back seat of the car, there was a figure, sitting gagged and bound. Blissful felt his blood run cold. The trees above them were now strewn with the silhouettes of a hundred tiny, fluttering wings.
"Let me handle this," The hound assured, and wandered up towards the group before them, before reaching into his pockets and pulling out a cigarette. "Anyone got a light?"
"Stay right where you are Leonard, we know your tricks."
Blissful turned to the redhead. "His name's Leonard?"
"A guy can't ask for a match?" the hound jeered, all the while trying to edge closer to the sedan holding Blissful's brother. "Oh," Leonard realised. "I already have one."
He ignited the lighter and as he did, the flock of birds surrounding them descended in a cloud of feathers.

JH

Chapter Ten. Afraid of Giant Birds

The cloaked troupe moved stealthily through the ghettos of Harper's Wood. Blissful watched the two hooded ladies move ahead of him, he was still wondering how bringing a chicken and what looked to be the terrier from Back to the Future, "Einy", was going to help their rescue of Matt.

He still knew neither of their names, but somehow trusted them, or at least the redhead, implicitly.

"Just so that I know the plan... why the puppy and chicken little?" Blissful E. Bear asked the leading pair.

The two cloaked figures ahead of him stopped and turned, very slowly.

"Show him," the redhead said to 1950s pinup.

"Here?"

The redhead nodded.

The chicken in the woman's hand flapped from her grasp and seemed to turn before their eyes into some kind of mythical faun, but of the bird-kind. Legs clad in tights, sneakers and a pair of leg warmers, the upper body, however, had changed into that of a sparrow.

"My brother's captors are afraid of giant birds?" Blissful asked. "What am I not following here?"

"Your brothers kidnappers are not what they seem, Mr Bear, nor is much of what you take for granted in your everyday life."

Blissful looked cautiously down at the puppy. The small thing simply licked his hand and then began chewing on his hind leg.

Before them there was suddenly a screech of tires, as a host of sedans careened down Gilcrest Avenue, speeding directly for them.

JH

Chapter Nine. A Chicken & A Small Dog

Blissful E. Bear and the mysterious woman were watching the strobe of sunlight cut through the buildings, and splinter into their tram. She deposited the tissue scarred black with mascara into an interior pocket of her cloak and pulled out an old photo of Matt, Blissful's brother taken years ago, his hair long and dishevelled, his upper right arm not yet punctuated with countless tattoos. "Do you know this man?" the woman asked.

"What?!" Blissful was growing tired of this run around. "Of course I know him, that's my brother."

"This man is in deadly trouble."

"I know," Blissful sighed. "Which was why I thought you were..."

Blissful stopped, and looked at the woman.

"What is it? Did I miss a spot?" The woman looked through her pockets lifting out her compact mirror and began to apply more eye-liner.

"...that's where i thought you were taking me, and who are you?"

"They were going to kill you back there, you could be a bit more appreciative."

"We need Jerry, if we have any hope of getting my brother back."

"We don't need Jerry, we have something much more important. Just wait we're almost there."

Blissful looked around at the motley assortment of characters on the number 15, the woman reading Goodbye My Ovaries was now crying. The wannabe gangsta was checking himself in the reflection of the oncoming dusk, making sure the collection of ironic timepieces hanging from his neck were not obscured from view. The LED screen read "Next Stop Harper's Wood". Blissful's heart felt like it could beat the procession to a marching band on acid. The pair alighted from the tram, and were met by a dark figure, yet another cloak, this one black in colour that shrouded the figure of yet another woman. The hood came down and the woman under, long blond hair, curled like a 1950s pinup, lifted a chicken and small dog from under the many folds of fabric. This was going to be an interesting night.

JH

Chapter Eight. We Must Get To A Street Car

What happened next happened at what felt life half speed. The Hooded masses surrounding Blissful E. Bear were oblivious to the commotion at the centre of the room. As the Lord's head connected with the ground there was a sound like air escaping from an overripe peach, and then the contents of said peach were sprayed across the ornate tiling, over boots and sneakers, and on to the legs of pants. Jerry stared at Blissful as if he were about to strangle him. His eyes popping out of his head like Rodney Dangerfield from Caddyshack, except there wasn't about to be a one-liner to follow. Blissful felt something tug at his wrist and suddenly he was being led expertly through the hysterical crowd.

Blissful thought about resisting the pull of the cloaked figure in front of him, but was more concerned with ploughing into people and awaking their stupor. He saw a huge arched door above the horizon of heads and felt it grow closer with every step. He tried to turn to see if anyone was following but it was impossible with the grip and propulsion of the person leading him. Once through he main swell of bodies Blissful saw tables lain with the remnants of a feast, lying half eaten or toppled over like the aftermath of a natural destruction. Suddenly the person leading him pressed their hand upon a metal plate that sounded with something vaguely affirmative, turned green and the pair were enveloped by daylight.

"Quickly, we must get to a street-car!" a female voice shouted from under the hood before him.

"A tram? Why?"

"Take off your hood!"

The girl, turned and stretched the maroon-coloured cloak over her head and Blissful watched her, and quickly shed his own. It was the girl he had seen inside who had been crying. Her long dark hair looked more auburn in the sunshine. They were standing outside what looked to the unsuspecting eye to be a cliff face covered in creepers. Before them was a stretch of marsh that led down an embankment to an esplanade. The girl took his hand and the pair ran through the green mass, under the giant fig trees and down to the road's edge. As a tram pulled up, Blissful resisted being dragged any further, the girl turned and appeared to growl but only in her green, mascara-strewn eyes. Blissful followed.

"I'm sure this whole thing has been weird for you," the girl whispered.

Blissful said nothing, he felt as if words would be useless in this situation. the world had gone topsy-turvy in every way since he had woken in that wheelie bin. He looked around on the tram, a man was talking to the window frame, telling it that it never appreciated him. A woman was reading Farewell My Ovaries, by Wendy Harmer. A boy in matching Adidas tracks was pretending to be gangsta but everyone could hear that he was listing to Beautiful by Christina Aguilera. An overhead announcement came over internal speakers. This stop is Merri Vale, this is the 15 Tram to Harper's Wood.

He looked at the girl who was fixing up her running mascara in a compact mirror, she was taking him to his brother.

JH

Chapter Seven. A Boy Named Sue

"What is this place?" Asked Blissful E. Bear.

Jerry craned his neck, watching the faces above on the upper floor, and then spinning around to cast his eyes over the rest of those to his left before he whispered, The Room of Abstinence.

Blissful took one look right and saw a a giant man gulping down red wine and spilling most on his cloak. He suddenly understood the need for maroon-coloured robes. He turned his head back the other way and saw a woman straddling a man, her hips in full pelvic thrust, her nakedness covered only by fallen bits of chicken and fruit that had obviously been her dinner at some stage.

"What exactly are they abstaining from?"

"They are abstaining from abstinence of course."

"Of course they are."

"Why do you jest? Would you prefer to be in the room of Edible and Carnal Fun Times?"

Nord shuddered next to Jerry.

"I'm guessing not so many fun times?" Blissful asked wearily.

"May you never have the misfortune of knowing," Jerry had gone remarkably pale. "Keep moving," he spoke his dry whisper.

The three of them made headway through the throng of revelers, there was a man with a long beard flashing onlookers whilst pretending to be a ghost with a series of Whoooooos. Blissful looked up to the mezzanine where a second layer of cloaked faces were dangling from the Victorian plaster work, glasses dropping from hands. Hands clutching flesh. Flesh plump to excess. A very rough bootleg of Venus in Furs started playing from somewhere.

"Where are we going?"

"Stop talking you're attractivating an tension," one of them replied in their trademark babble.

"Quiet, he'll hear you," again, unable to decipher through their thick hoods who was speaking.

"Who will hear me?"

Just then they stopped, a man with strange eyes like those splashed with acid laid his long gold-trimmed cane before them. He was seated at a circular table big enough simply for the fine china tea pot and cups that sat precariously before him.

"Yeah man, it's an incredible price," he spoke into the receiver of his Iphone. His hands were covered in sores, like an Ice-addict, his voice was very thick and baritone.

"It's a semi-hollow bodied Gretch from the 70s but more like a Gibson, you know, like a 335 but with those single coil humbuckers, yeah, yeah," he continued.

"Who is this douche?" Blissful asked.

"Shhhh," Jerry snapped, turning to him with eyes full of fear.

"Yep, AwesomeShredMan43, that's me, just use Paypal that's easier."

The man lifted his head to take in the three figures standing before him, but Blissful couldn't see any indication of sight.

"Ok, right, it sings like a.... one of those you know, majestic birds of song....but only more like a Les Paul, Ok, and two rocks, I'll get them to you mid-week. I'm out."

The figure slowly lowered his phone to a pocket inside his coat. Blissful only then noticed that the man was the only one in the room not conforming to the dress code. He sat with his legs widely spread, wearing a Nike sweat and a pair of Adidas World Cup Gazelles in red, white and blue.

"You haven't paid me yet, Jerry," the man slurred in his thick drawl.

"I know Lord, I'm sorry."

Lord? This smackie is their lord? "What is this place?!" Blissful then realised that he had verbalised the last part of his thoughts, Shit.

"Who do we have here? I haven't seen a bear in years," the man asked.

"I'm..." Blissful always hated introducing himself, it was like his father had listened to A Boy Named Sue by Johnny Cash one too many times, "Blissful," he offered with a sigh.

"Blissful?" the man chuckled. "Blissful?!" the man repeated, and then broke into a fit of laughter. Suddenly Nord and Jerry began laughing along nervously, Jerry's eyes were still etched with fear. The room seemed to become enveloped by the raucous outburst of this Ebay-peddling Ice dealer and one by one like dominoes people starting doubling over in hysterics. Blissful surveyed the lunacy before him, faces growing red, all staring in his direction, all except one. She looked like she was probably meant to be standing out the front of Lord of the Fries wearing all black. But it was her sadness in the midst of the chaos of laughter that caught his eye. Then she looked up and brought her eyes straight upon Blissful. Her sorrow subsided for a moment as she too came to stare at the bear whose name had caused so much uproar. But she didn't laugh. She merely wiped her eyes and smiled reassuringly.

"Blissful!" the man was still losing himself, "I love it!" The man was swaying back and forth on his chair trying to tame his belly rolling laugh. Blissful looked back for the girl but she was gone, he couldn't see her anywhere. Meanwhile the legs of the man's chair were lifting vulnerably close to tipping. Something in his mind took over. Blissful walked past Nord, past Jerry up to the man's teary damaged eyes and gently inched the base of the left leg back with his toe and watched as the Lord was sent sprawling to the ground.

JH

Chapter Six. Why are you telling me this?

"Psssst," the voice came at Blissful E. Bear. Its sharp scraping vocal chords were coarse as sand paper. "Pssssssssssssssssssst," It came again. He opened his eyes and saw himself lying on a day bed of some description, floral in design, autumn in tone. The room was terribly luxurious, bright, and sweet smelling like honey. If he hadn't already been a bear he may have felt a little like Goldilocks. He sat up, and panned his eyes across the high ceilings and plastered detail above him. His eyes were still focusing and his vision made it appear that he was watching a 1990s music video with all those blurry out of focus jump cuts, except less arty old men standing in the mud. "Pssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssst."

"Who is that?"

"Down Here," the voice beckoned.

Blissful got up unsteadily, and walked towards the source. "Who are you?"

"You need to get out of here..." The voice was coming from an air vent behind an upholstered arm chair. "The man you attacked is holding you in highest contempt of the society."

"So how do you do intend for me to do that gravel throat?"

"You will need to change your clothes. Quickly, hold your hand against the mirror to your left."

Blissful walked over to the mirror and stared at his button nose, brown eyes and his father's sharp ears.

"Put your hand to the right side as if to push it."

Blissful did as he was told and pressed his paw to the glass. "Why are you telling me this?"

"Because the less you know about us the better," the voice rasped.

"Believe me, I'm way ahead of you."

The mirror emitted a high pitched squeak and then clicked forward and began rolling to the side. Behind was a maroon robe with a hood, a translucent crystal key and a pair of cherry red Docs. He quickly disrobed and put on the wine-coloured cloak.

"What now?" he asked.

"Go to the green door to your right and use the key."

He hurried towards the door and fumbled with the crystal.

"You need to swipe it length wise along the scanner."

Blissful did as he was told and heard an affirming computerised beep. He pushed the handle and found himself in a mammoth auditorium. There were thousands of people all in hooded robes laughing and drinking wine, eating bread at long dinner tables like something out of the final supper. He pulled the hood over his head and tried to blend in. Walking through the crowd was almost impossible, they were like lemmings. Milling around, drinking, dancing, fornicating, others just salivating. He had never seen anything like it. He came to the punch table and ladled himself a big scoop of the orange-coloured liquid. He stood there, shrouded by his hood, mesmerised by the scale of hedonism before him.

"I told you not to go home," the same voice from before whispered harshly to his right.

"You have to be more care-fied," a second voice came at him.

Blissful turned, and found himself staring straight into the eyes of Jerry and Nord.

JH