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

Chapter Five. Go to Harper's Wood?

The clock radio sounded. A song by The Bee Gees was playing as dawn flooded through the slatted blinds. Don't ever let me find you gone, coz that would bring a tear to me... He stretched his limbs across the bed feeling safe and cosy. He looked up through the window at the silver breadth above, a pair of swallows were playing tag by an overhanging maple. He smiled to himself, what a dream. I'm never drinking so much again. He raised himself on an elbow and blinked at the carnage before him, it had been real. He stepped over a collapsed bookcase and edged past the the shards of broken glass littered about from a smashed ceiling lamp. He walked to the strange painting left in his apartment from the previous night and checking his shoulder for the unfamiliar hands of people who answered to names such as Nord or Jerry he peeled back the thin paper before him. He lifted it from corner to corner and found a note from Matt. When the cubs had been younger the other side had always been their name for their forest hideaway. Could it be possible that this message was telling him to go to Harper's Wood? He rolled back the painting to look untouched and headed for the shower.

He then hit the street, knowing that time was of the essence. If he hadn't been so dead tired yesterday he could have tackled that Nord character to the ground and taken him to the two Julias. They wouldn't have known the difference surely, one loopy fruit with a connection to a made-up Dan Brown organisation is surely as good as another? As he walked he felt eyes on him, and sure enough when he sent his gaze across the street a dark figure disappeared behind a pastel blue Vespa. What a chump, thought Blissful E. Bear.

"Hey!" Blissful shouted, running towards the crouching assailant, "Hey! Wait".

The man ran faster than Blissful would have expected but he still had the gait to reach him. But the man's strength was no match for a young bear whose sole dietary requirements had been met recently by Nasi Goreng noodles and Smith & Clyde lager from Aldi. The man turned Blissful around to face him and before uttering the words, you have disapointalised us my friend, we thought we could treasure you, he used two fingers in a sleeper hold and sent him unconscious.

JH

Chapter Four. Will you live by the code?

"I am Nord of the Illuminated Society, do you accept to live and die by the code?"

"I'm sorry, but why are you in my home?"

"You are the only one who can be trusted, do you accept to live and die by the code?"

"Trusted with what?"

"Knowledge of our intentions, we have watched and trust you. Will you accept to live and die by the code?"

"I would much prefer to find my way to my large, overly comfortable double king and lay the fuck down before my head explodes but sure, if it makes you any happier, I accept."

"I will live and die by the code."

"Sorry?"

"Say the words."

"OK, OK I will live and die by the code. Now can I go and catch some Z's?"

"For now. I will be in contact, I will be watching. Stay alert, though. Soon enough you will wake up, and It will be time for your meeting."

"Meeting?"

"The Lord."

"You've met the Lord?"

"I have met the Lord."

"Terrific news. I'ma hit the hay, friend."


Now let the events that follow Blissful's deep slumber be a lesson to us all, as we clearly still haven't learned our lesson. After a long and eventful night of your lips being permanently attached to the rim of a 20oz chilled glass there is one extremely important thing to remember upon returning home the following morning. Do not take lightly the word of a man who claims to have met the Lord. Nor should you be open to the proposal of interacting with this individual at a later date. But when one's brother is missing, logic might not be at the forefront of one's mind.

MB.

Chapter Three. A Painting, Not His Own

Despite the warnings of Jerry, Blissful E. Bear ventured home. Where else was he to go? He had no money, he looked and smelled like a vagrant and his brother's face was looking more broken than Mel Gibson's ex-wife. He had to find some clues. The winter morning had given itself to cloud cover and the walk home was a cold pursuit of shelter from the howling winds of mid-July. When he reached his street he felt his nerve leave him, replaced with the cold sweet of a heart racing with fear. He reached again inside his jacket pocket and at the images of his beaten brother, took a deep breath and inched himself like a crab up the side walk towards number 63. Jerry's words don't go home, they know where you live echoed through his head. So as he reached the stoop of his house he saw that the front door had been forcibly opened and marked in felt pen with the words don't be upset. There was no turning back now.

He walked in stealthily, pushing the door open with a his house key, like cops do in hollywoodmovies to avoid disturbing the scene. The place looked like a crack den. Food strewn around from cupboards. Furniture overturned and drawers ripped from their housing of tables and hutches to give flight to hundreds of A4 sized pieces of personal documents. He tip-toed across the lounge and into the bedroom, no one. Into the en suite, again no one. He then checked the laundry and the kitchen and there was no sign of unwanted guests. He opened the pantry cupboard and took out two Asprins and reached inside the refrigerator for something to wash it down with. There was a solitary Dos Equis and some expired milk. Beer it was, nothing like hair of the dog thought Blissful. He downed the two tablets with the crisp liquid and panned his eyes across the walls and floor of the lounge. It was then that he noticed it. A painting, not his own. It was an abstract piece depicting a redheaded man with strange antennae coming from his head attaching themselves to two planets. The redheaded man was also fixed to a wooden base as if someone were mounting it as a game shot on safari. He walked across the rubbish lain floor and took in the frame and the materials of the painting. He could see one of the edges was exposing an under layer, he pulled at the canvas to reveal what was hidden. Just then he felt a hand on his shoulder.

JH

Chapter Two. Jerry Calling...

He stared on in anxious wonder. The letter was encrypted but he was sure he had seen the redhead before, her name was Julia. He had seen her on television but in looking at the three repeated images of her face he suddenly recalled something more than just inebriation from the night before. Julia had been there with her same-sex partner, also named Julia. The two had warned Blissful E. Bear against continuing any communication with the visiting alien and bid him safe passage. He checked his other pockets for any other information, a handful of change in his right pocket, a house key, no wallet. He became frantic. It was nowhere to be found. At that moment his phone started to vibrate, he stared at the name on the screen Jerry Calling... and lifted the receiver slowly to his ear.

"Hello?" he stammered.

'I...."

"Who is this?"

"I met... you... last night"

"But who are you?"

"You know what my name is... but that's unimportainable...."

"Unimportantainable?"

"Yes, precisionally, unimportainable"

"Are you aware that you're making up words?"

"Look! You can't go home, they know where you live."

"Who do?"

"The hostile aliens, they have your papers."

"What is going on? Who are you?"

"A friend, I will call again"

The person then hung up and Blissful was in the dark again.

If Jerry was really the man he had met the night before then this was truly becoming strange. He looked at the rest of the pages in the letter and immediately felt his blood run cold, there in black and white was a distressing image of his own brother etched with the words we are not going to survive. The last page showed heavy bruising on his brother's face and was signed with an anchor. He immediately scrolled down the contacts in his phone and tried calling his brother, the phone rang several times before he heard someone on the other end.

"Matt!" Blissful shouted.

"Mr Bear?"

"What have you done with my brother?"

"Mr Bear, you need to calm down."

"I swear when I get my hands on whoever this is..."

"Mr Bear, don't overestimate your own ability, do you remember the man with the Chinese cigarettes from last night?"

"What do you want from me?"

"That's simple Mr Bear. We want the man from last night, then you may have your brother."

"I don't know what you're talking about!"

"Mr Bear, this conversation is over. You have two days."

JH

Chapter One. A Bear Walks into a Bar

It was after nine when the first signs of movement stirred Blissful E. Bear. His neck was craned uncomfortably, his head tilted upwards, mouth open as if he was catching flies. He opened his eyes and found himself to be covered in last nights filth, not all of it his own. He smelled like the love-child of a brewery and regurgitated nachos. He also noted, it seemed he had awoken in a foul-smelling receptacle of some description. He tried to maneuver himself to an upright position but his lack of coordination made his makeshift bed teeter from rim to rim threatening to collapse. He pressed down on his knees and lifted himself painfully to his feet. There he surveyed his situation. Aside from the obvious fact that he had fallen asleep in a wheelie bin, his head was pounding like the bed posts of some young lothario and his bladder was about to quit. It was the dead of winter but somehow the alcohol in his body was keeping him warm. What the fuck happened last night? He could see himself sneaking beers into a club and one of them smashing on the polished wooden floor. He pieced a series of hand shakes together and a conversation with a man who claimed he was a visiting alien, a member of the Illuminati and had a penchant for Chinese cigarettes that came in hundred packs. He awkwardly raised himself over the lid of the bin and jumped free of his enclosure just before it toppled under his own weight. Once he had relieved himself behind a tree he was then able to focus on something that had evaded him during his frantic search for a public urinal. In his jacket pocket was a four page folded letter with a wax seal stamped with the letters A.S. He opened the letter and was immediately confronted with something shocking.

JH