Part 1, Chapter 5, of RFVA Chapter by Danny ZilFIVE From behind the fence two peasants watched
them approach. One of the peasants, Korab, was tall and skinny. The other, Zog,
was short and skinny. Both were wearing woolly hats, ragged sheepskin jackets,
grubby leggings and sandals. They were on border patrol and both carried “Who’s this coming?” Zog asked. Korab peered at the two approaching figures.
“Oh Christ! It’s that tit who wants to be an Albanian an some idiot carryin the
flag of the Italian Army.” Zog saw Roger waving the white flag and
tittered. “The Italian Army flag!” he repeated and tittered again. Roger and Norman drew closer and the Border
Patrol could see Roger’s gorgeous yellow slippers with the bouncing pink
pompoms. “Do all capitalists wear silly footwear,
Korab?” Zog asked. Korab nodded wisely. “Yeah most of them,
the stupid b******s.” “Greetings fellow Albanians!” “Oh Jesus!” Korab muttered, his head
sinking wearily into his hands. “Spare us from that crap about wantin to be an
Albanian again.” Roger and Norman reached the fence. There
was a large gap at this point and they could easily see through. “Shall I challenge them, Korab?” the Under
Peasant asked. “Yeah, go on.” Zog cleared his throat a few times. “You
two people over there!” he yelled. “Fancy a game of tennis doubles?” Korab looked at the sky. “Not that kind of
challenge, you twat!” he said through gritted teeth. “A proper challenge. Like
this.” He looked sternly through the gap in the fence. “Hoi, you pair!” he
shouted. “Are you Albanians? If not you can piss off an if you say you’d like
to be an Albanian,” he added quickly, remembering previous encounters with “You can’t go over,” Zog hissed at him.
“We’re not allowed to.” “S**t!” Korab said, remembering. He glanced
at Roger and Norman. “When I said come over an spear you,” he told them, “I
didn’t mean it literally but if you try an cross this border, the full might of
The Albanian People’s Border Army will be unleashed on you.” Zog glanced at him sideways. “What’s that?”
he asked. “The Border Army thing?” “You an me,” Korab hissed. “An these spears.” “It’s alright,” Roger told him placatingly.
“We..mean..you..no..harm,” he said slowly, enunciating every word. “Why’s he talkin like that?” Korab asked.
“We..mean..you..no..harm.” “Perhaps he has a speech impediment,” Zog
suggested. “Lots of capitalists do. It’s because their bowels don’t move
regularly.” “Because their bowels don’t move
regularly!?” Korab scoffed. “Piss off! He thinks we’re a couple of uneducated
peasants.” He turned to Roger. “Look mate,” he said, “you don’t have
to..talk..slowly..we..can..understand..you.” “Sorry,” Roger said. “I thought you were a
couple of uneducated peasants.” “Watch it!” Korab responded, bristling. “Or
you’ll have two more pompoms on your silly footwear.” “Sorry,” Roger told him. “I really don’t
mean you any harm. In answer to your earlier question " no I’m not an Albanian.
I don’t want to be an Albanian. I’ve come to warn you about the Black Cloud.” “Don’t want to be an Albanian!?” Korab repeated,
stunned. “He doesn’t want to be an Albanian, Zog. Listen to Mister High and
Mighty. Bein an Albanian’s too good for you, is it mate? Used to better things,
are we?” “What’s wrong with being an Albanian?” Zog
piped up. “Nothing,” Roger replied quickly. “It’s not
that I don’t want to be an Albanian. I just said that to pacify you.” “I want to be an Albanian!” “Don’t you start!” Korab warned him. “We’ve
heard all that from you before. You can’t join us so piss off.” “But I--” “Look!” Korab said forcefully. “I’ve
already told you to piss off! We’ve got a lot of border to patrol an we can’t
hang around bandyin words with the likes of you. We’ve got to patrol away up
there to the north,” he said, pointing to the west, “then along our eastern
boundary, then all the bloody coast bit, then back down there to the south,” he
finished, pointing to the east. “But we’ve come to warn you,” Roger
persisted. “Warn us? What about?” Korab asked
suspiciously. “The Black Cloud.” “Black Cloud? You mean it might rain? Ha!
That’s nothin!” Korab scoffed. “We’re used to things like that. Hardy race, we
Albanians.” “No no!” Roger said in exasperation. “The Black
Cloud from outer space. It’s approaching Earth and everybody’s gone because the
planet’s going to be destroyed. You’re the only ones left.” Korab and Zog looked at each other. “Come on, Zog - he’s f****n nuts,” Korab
the Wise announced. They started to walk off. “It’s true!” Korab and Zog halted, looked at each other
then strolled back. “Did you say Greater “Yes, Greater “Greater “Over there, where you are?” So where’s this over here then?” Korab
asked. “Lesser “No…it’s…I meant to say…it’s…” “It’s what?” Korab asked, unmoved by his
discomfort. “I didn’t say Greater Albania,” “Later “That’s it!” Korab looked at him. “F****n crawler,” he
said derisively. Zog tittered. “An you say everybody’s left this, this--” “Later “Everybody’s left Later Albania. Well then,
how did they leave?” “In Ships,” Roger told him. “In ships!” Korab repeated and laughed. “Bloody
ships! Well you can kiss them goodbye, mate. They’ll have gone over the edge by
now.” “The edge of what?” asked a puzzled Roger. “The edge of the f****n world! What d’you
think I meant " the edge of my bleedin nose!?” Roger flushed. “But how can things go over the edge of the
world?” Roger asked. Korab sighed. “Tell him, Zog.” “Everybody knows the Earth’s flat,” Zog
said patiently, “and if you go out to sea in a ship eventually you come to the
edge and go over it.” “The Earth’s flat!” Roger repeated in
amazement. “How silly. Where have you people been all these years?” “Here mate,” Korab intoned, “in Lesser Alb,
in bloody “He didn’t mean ships that go out to sea,” “Ships that go up in the air!? That’s good
that! Up in the air! Good that, eh, Zog!?” They both laughed. “Don’t you know that space has been
colonised?” Roger asked incredulously. “What space?” Korab asked. “You mean that
bit of land up next to Zog nodded. “Bloody capitalist b******s!” Korab spat.
“If it wasn’t for us vigilantly patrollin this border you’d overrun us as well
an then what would it be like? The place would be full of capitalist crap. Like
food in the shops, new clothes, spare parts for machines…” “Spare parts for machines,” echoed Zog. “…topless nightclubs,” went on Korab. “Topless nightclubs,” echoed Zog again then
he looked puzzled. “What are these topless nightclubs like, Korab?” he asked. “Horrible!” Korab answered. “Bloody
horrible. Waitresses serving beer with their upper dangly bits hanging out.
Horrible.” Zog’s eyebrows lifted and a dreamy smile
appeared on his face. “Sounds quite nice actually,” he muttered. Roger however was amazed by the blatant
ignorance of the Albanians as a hole. “I say,” he sayd, “don’t you know what’s
going on out here at all?” “Course we do!” retorted Korab. “The Boss
puts up a notice in the cowshed every year tellin us what’s happenin. We know
the Earth’s flat an things like that.” “But it’s round,” Roger insisted. “Look, we’ve already been through that,”
Korab said impatiently. “We all know it’s flat.” “But it’s round! It’s round! It’s round!”
Roger ranted. “Oh! The capitalist’s throwin a tantrum, is
he?” Korab said. “It’s round! It’s round! It’s round!” he mimicked. Zog sniggered appreciatively. “Okay smart arse, if it’s round how come
hundreds of people disappear from “You’ve got him there, Korab,” Zog said
admiringly. “Hundreds of people disappear when they go
out to sea?” Roger repeated, puzzled. “What’s that got to do with the Earth
being flat?” “Every year hundreds of people disappear
from Roger gave up. “We know about things like goin to sea,”
Korab went on, shooting a quick glance at Zog, “because we’ve got a bit of
coast here.” He paused and glanced again at the Under Peasant. “We’re not like
some land-locked Balkan States I could mention.” Zog sniggered. “Stop it, Korab.” “Like Zog sniggered again. “Or More sniggering. “Or They both leaned against their spears and
doubled over in hysterical laughter. “Like that about the land-locked Balkan
States don’t you, Zog?” Korab asked when they’d recovered. Zog nodded, wiping some tears from his
eyes. “Fine sense of humour these sturdy people,”
“Looks like we’re going to,” Roger muttered
resignedly, gazing across at the rolling Albanian countryside and waiting
patiently for the Border Patrol to recover. “So we have got a bit of coast then,
Korab?” Zog asked when they had. “Course we have!” the Wise One told him
proudly. “Lovely bit of rugged coast it is. You’ll see it when we patrol
there.” A rapturous look crossed Zog’s face. He
clasped his hands. “And does it have seagulls and things?” Korab nodded. “And guillemots and puffins?” Korab nodded again but looked at Zog
suspiciously. “And sandpipers and--” “What’s this f****n fixation you have with
the winged fauna of the coast, Zog? “ Korab asked pointedly. “It’s not a fixation,” Zog said quickly.
Too quickly. “It’s just an interest.” “It’s a bloody fixation!” Korab maintained.
“For instance last week when we were patrollin our western border I was tellin
you about the uprisin of 1912 an how thousands of people died layin the foundations
of our beloved modern Zog sighed. Deep down he realised he
couldn’t get away with it any longer. It was confession time. “Well to be
honest, Korab,” he said, “I feel very much in tune with seabirds.” “In tune with seabirds!” Korab exclaimed.
“You must be out your f****n tree!” “Crevice,” Zog corrected. “We guillemots
live in small crevices, preferably in cliffs next to the sea. We don’t live in
trees.” “We Guillemots!?” Korab picked up.
“What d’you mean, we guillemots!?” Zog looked a bit uneasy and toyed with his
spear. “Well…oh I suppose I’d best tell you…actually I am a guillemot.” Korab looked at him then burst out
laughing. “A guillemot!” he said to Roger and Norman. “He thinks he’s a f****n
guillemot!” “And you want to join them?” Roger muttered
to “I wouldn’t mind being a guillemot,” “Oh Christ, don’t you start!” Korab told
him. “I’ve got enough problems with this tit, I mean guillemot here.” He turned
to Zog. “Okay, if you’re a guillemot, fly over the fence an back. Go on, fly
over…Stand back you two!” he shouted to Roger and Norman. “This ex-peasant who
has now revealed his true feathers is goin to fly over the fence.” He turned
back to Zog. “Well go on, fly you little b*****d. What are you waitin for " the
migratory flocks headin south for the winter?” “I can’t fly over the fence,” Zog said,
looking uncomfortable. “Ha! Told you! You see, you’re not a bird.” “It isn’t that,” Zog explained. “I can’t
fly over the fence because I haven’t got an Exit Visa.” “An Exit Visa! A f****n Exit Visa! Balls!”
Korab roared. “You can’t fly over the fence because you haven’t got f****n wings!” “I have,” Zog began, “I mean I used to have
them but…but--” “But what?” “Some boys captured me when I was a
nestling and clipped them.” Korab laughed derisively. “Alright so I’m a grounded guillemot,” Zog responded,
hurt by the Head Peasant’s mockery. Korab shook his head and looked at him.
“Always thought there was somethin odd about you, Zog,” he said, stroking his
chin. “My suspicions were first aroused years ago when you wouldn’t sleep on a
comfortable bed of straw in the cowshed with the rest of us but preferred to be
up in the eaves with the roostin starlings.” Zog shuffled uneasily. Confession was one
thing. Humiliation was another. “And I should know,” Roger said then
wondered why. The others turned and stared at him. Korab shook his head then turned back to
Zog. “Then there was that time in brainwashin class with the Boss,” he
continued. “The Boss said to us, ‘Who are the sworn enemies of all Albanians?’
I of course replied, ‘The capitalist imperialist swine of the west,’ but what
did you say, eh, what did you say, Zog?...’Big black-headed sea hawks’!” Zog stared at the ground and toyed with his
spear. Korab sighed. “You are not a f****n
guillemot, Zog,” he explained patiently. “You are an Albanian peasant,
patrollin the border of our beloved country with me, your friend, Korab Alt
Prennushi, a ring-tailed lemur. Oh s**t!!” he muttered and clapped a hand to
his forehead. Roger looked at “The first ring-tailed lemur ever seen in “So you’re a ring-tailed lemur then,
Korab?” Zog asked quietly. Korab sighed. “Yes! Yes! Yes! I’m a bloody
ring-tailed lemur!” he admitted unwillingly. “I fought it for awhile, I mean
it’s a bit silly, a grown man wantin to be a ring-tailed lemur but I found
myself gradually bein attracted to things like hangin upside down in trees,
sleepin durin the day an comin out at night to forage for edible berries an
chase small rodents. The non-prehensile tail is a bit of a disadvantage but
heck,” he shrugged, “you can’t have everythin.” Zog smiled. “Funny old world, isn’t it,
Korab? I mean, you being a ring-tailed lemur and me being a guillemot. It’s a
little creature I’ve always admired, the lemur. “Always had a soft spot for them myself,”
Korab admitted. “Great ariel ability plus a nice lifestyle " eatin insects an
fruit, unlimited shaggin, makin strange background noises in natural history
documentaries, that sort of trip. Zog laid a hand on Korab’s arm. “Perhaps we
could be friends, Korab?” he said gently. “Guillemots quite like ring-tailed
lemurs you know.” Korab smiled gently in return. For a few
seconds. “Oh f**k off!!” he yelled, brushing Zog’s hand away. “Guillemots an
ring-tailed f****n lemurs!” he roared. “You stupid twat! I’m not a lemur an
you’re not a f****n guillemot!” “You mean you were lying?” Zog asked, hurt. “Of course I was lyin, you prat. Get it
through your bird-brained, your thick head that I’m not an arboreal primate an
you’re not a soddin guillemot. We’re two Albanian peasants on border patrol.” “But Korab I--” “Don’t you ‘but Korab’ me! I don’t want to
hear anymore. Honestly,” he said, shaking his head, “a guillemot, a friggin
guillemot. May the Boss preserve me from psychotic peasants.” He leaned his head wearily against his spear
and closed his eyes. Roger gave him a few moments respite. “I
say,” he began hesitatingly, trying to attract the Wise One’s attention. Korab lifted his head and stared at him and
Norman. “You two still here?” he asked. “Of course we’re still here,” Roger
explained. “We’re still trying to warn you about the Dust.” “Still on about that Dust, eh?” “It’s true,” Roger said, glad to back in
the story again. “Everybody’s left Earth. You must leave or you’ll be killed.” “Piss off,” Korab said, irritated. “Think
we’re daft? It’s a trick to get us out of “Told you they wouldn’t leave,” Korab glared at him fiercely. “…to be a Later Albanian,” “Well at least send out the women and
children,” Roger said to Korab. Korab looked puzzled. “What women and
children?” “The ones in “There aren’t any.” “No women and children?” “Nope. None.” Roger perused this fact. He scratched his
head. Something had just occurred to him. “If there are no women left,” he
began then realised that facts like the one he was about to broach always
caused him quite a lot of embarrassment. He flushed and stuttered on. “If there
are no women left in “The cooking?” Korab suggested. Roger shook his head. “The washing?” the ex-guillemot suggested. “No. How do you--” “Make the tea? Ha! We can do that
ourselves, can’t we, Zog?” Zog nodded. “Not the tea,” Roger said, wishing he’d
never broached the subject. “I mean, if there are no women, who do you…I mean,
how do you…” Korab grinned. “You mean who do we shag!?” Roger flushed. Korab laughed. “Who we always shag,” he told
him and glanced meaningfully at a sheep that was wandering past. “Why bother
with women when you can get the real thing, that’s what I always say!” Roger flushed further into a rather
fetching deep scarlet. The sheep saw Korab staring at it and immediately
trotted off. “Well if that’s everything, we’ll be off,”
Korab said pleasantly. “Nice talkin to you.” “Wait a minute,” the Scarlet Lad called.
“If there are no women and children, how many of you are left?” Korab puffed out his cheeks. He turned to
Zog and they had a low muttering conversation which involved much counting on
fingers. Korab eventually turned back to Roger.
“There are three of us,” he told him. “Me, Zog an the Boss.” “And there’s a flock of seagu--” Zog
started to say. Korab shot him a withering look. “Forget it,” Zog wisely conceded. “So you refuse to leave? All three of you?”
Roger asked. “We’ll never leave the Homeland and that’s
final,” Korab said flatly. “So why don’t you piss off and take that would-be
Albanian with you.” “Alright,” Roger agreed, giving up. “If you
don’t want to leave we can’t force you.” He turned to “Bye!” Zog called, waving. Roger waved back. “Watch it!” Korab warned him, brandishing
his spear. Korab ran his eye over it as they strolled
along. “This fence is in some state,” he remarked. “I know!” Zog proudly agreed. “The glorious
State of Albania!” “I didn’t mean that…have they gone?” Zog glanced over his shoulder. Roger and
Norman were just getting into the air-mobile. “Yeah, they’re just taking off.” They both turned and watched till the
air-mobile took off, picked up speed then coasted out of sight. They tossed their
spears away, turned and looked at each other and fell about laughing. “Christ that was good!” Korab said when
they’d recovered. “You were brilliant!” Zog told him. “So were you. That stuff about bein a
guillemot " loved it!” “And you " a ring-tailed lemur! I nearly
pissed myself!” Korab sniggered. “No women in “People go out to sea and over the edge!” “And that tit wantin to be a bloody
Albanian!” They both laughed again then Korab took out
his watch. “Hey, we better start headin back. It’s nearly four.” “Is it? We better go then if we want a few
drinks before the last flight leaves.” “Yeah. Get out of these rags, grab a shower
and get suited up before we go.” “Yes, sadly it’s time to leave Greater
Albania for good!” Zog said. Korab laughed and they both turned and
headed away from the fence over towards some trees where they’d hidden their
air-mobile. © 2012 Danny Zil |
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Added on June 1, 2012 Last Updated on June 1, 2012 Author
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