back.
“Jings, crivvens! Is no’ that Tartan-Sherl, the world-famous bank robber?”
Everyone in the room turned to see who’d said that. There was a tall, skinny man with a beard sitting at that table, wearing something that looked suspiciously like a wig, and something
that looked even more suspiciously like a pair of swim goggles. Sitting next to him was a girl with a nose so huge you almost had to believe she’d glued it on. Beneath her nose there was a
small, yet thick and bushy, mustache. Not the kind of thing you see on a little girl every day.
“Quiet, you two!” Nilly urged them. “Don’t give me away!”
“Um, that’s exactly what we’re doing!” the girl yelled. “We’re GIVING you away!”
“Uh,” Nilly said. “Uh . . .” He leaned over to the toothless man. “Uh, I’m having a little brain fart here. What was my next line?”
“Huh?” the toothless man said.
“I see, laddie, that you . . . uh, dunna know what you’re supposed to say now,” the skinny man at the table said, standing up. “Well, I’m gonnae call Scotland Yard
and have them coom and arrest you. Yes, by golly if I’m not going to do that right now, unless someone stops me with a blow or a kick. A really hard kick. But who would do that?”
“Oh, that was it!” Nilly whispered. Then he pushed his way through the crowded room, jumped up onto that table, raised one of his feet, and slammed his heel down onto the
tabletop.
A new murmur ran through the pub with the way-too-long name as the table split in two with a deafening
crack
. Followed by yet another murmur as a second blow from the dart
champion’s heel split the table into four pieces. Then eight. Then sixteen. Then . . . well, what do you think?
Then Nilly started kicking the table fragments, which sailed through the air to eventually end up as a neatly stacked little woodpile next to the bar. Then he turned to the Scottish man and the
girl with the weird nose and the mustache, who was shaking, backed up against the wall, holding her index finger up in the air in warning.
“You’re not going to call the police now after all, are you?” Nilly warned. “You won’t if you know what’s good for you.”
“Yes, Tartan-Sherl,” the girl squeaked in a voice so pathetic you would almost think she was just pretending to be afraid. “You’re such a dastardly villain, and
we’re so scared we’re about to wet our pants. And since we know what’s good for us, well . . . well . . .” The girl exhaled into her mustache a couple of times and looked
like she was trying to remember the rest of her lines, before she finally continued, “We’ll just leave now without calling anyone.”
“Excellent!” Nilly said. “And since I’m in a good mood today, I’m going to let you go without kicking your sorry party-pooper heads off. Get out of here!”
And precisely—or at least more or less precisely— two seconds later, they were out the door.
Nilly turned to the astonished crowd and flung up his arms in victory. “Bartender, a round of your strongest soda for everyone! My treat! Put the table on my tab too! And pour a little of
something extra good for my new friend Charlie here!”
“But—” Charlie began.
“No, I absolutely
refuse
to take any money from you, Charlie. I have way too much money as it is!” Nilly said.
Charlie Crunch eyed Nilly uncertainly for a second. Then he lit up in a big smile.
“Let me at least buy you a beer. How about a Guinness, Tartan-Sherl?” Charlie asked.
“Thanks, Charlie, but I only drink . . . uh, the hard stuff,” Nilly said.
The two sat down at a table and were served a cola and a beer.
“So, you’re in the bank-robbing business too, eh?” Charlie said, wiping beer foam off his upper lip.
“Yup,” Nilly said. “I’m always on the lookout for other robbers who’d like to team up on crime sprees with a skilled bandit like myself.”
“What a shame,” Charlie said with a shrug. “We
“Jings, crivvens! Is no’ that Tartan-Sherl, the world-famous bank robber?”
Everyone in the room turned to see who’d said that. There was a tall, skinny man with a beard sitting at that table, wearing something that looked suspiciously like a wig, and something
that looked even more suspiciously like a pair of swim goggles. Sitting next to him was a girl with a nose so huge you almost had to believe she’d glued it on. Beneath her nose there was a
small, yet thick and bushy, mustache. Not the kind of thing you see on a little girl every day.
“Quiet, you two!” Nilly urged them. “Don’t give me away!”
“Um, that’s exactly what we’re doing!” the girl yelled. “We’re GIVING you away!”
“Uh,” Nilly said. “Uh . . .” He leaned over to the toothless man. “Uh, I’m having a little brain fart here. What was my next line?”
“Huh?” the toothless man said.
“I see, laddie, that you . . . uh, dunna know what you’re supposed to say now,” the skinny man at the table said, standing up. “Well, I’m gonnae call Scotland Yard
and have them coom and arrest you. Yes, by golly if I’m not going to do that right now, unless someone stops me with a blow or a kick. A really hard kick. But who would do that?”
“Oh, that was it!” Nilly whispered. Then he pushed his way through the crowded room, jumped up onto that table, raised one of his feet, and slammed his heel down onto the
tabletop.
A new murmur ran through the pub with the way-too-long name as the table split in two with a deafening
crack
. Followed by yet another murmur as a second blow from the dart
champion’s heel split the table into four pieces. Then eight. Then sixteen. Then . . . well, what do you think?
Then Nilly started kicking the table fragments, which sailed through the air to eventually end up as a neatly stacked little woodpile next to the bar. Then he turned to the Scottish man and the
girl with the weird nose and the mustache, who was shaking, backed up against the wall, holding her index finger up in the air in warning.
“You’re not going to call the police now after all, are you?” Nilly warned. “You won’t if you know what’s good for you.”
“Yes, Tartan-Sherl,” the girl squeaked in a voice so pathetic you would almost think she was just pretending to be afraid. “You’re such a dastardly villain, and
we’re so scared we’re about to wet our pants. And since we know what’s good for us, well . . . well . . .” The girl exhaled into her mustache a couple of times and looked
like she was trying to remember the rest of her lines, before she finally continued, “We’ll just leave now without calling anyone.”
“Excellent!” Nilly said. “And since I’m in a good mood today, I’m going to let you go without kicking your sorry party-pooper heads off. Get out of here!”
And precisely—or at least more or less precisely— two seconds later, they were out the door.
Nilly turned to the astonished crowd and flung up his arms in victory. “Bartender, a round of your strongest soda for everyone! My treat! Put the table on my tab too! And pour a little of
something extra good for my new friend Charlie here!”
“But—” Charlie began.
“No, I absolutely
refuse
to take any money from you, Charlie. I have way too much money as it is!” Nilly said.
Charlie Crunch eyed Nilly uncertainly for a second. Then he lit up in a big smile.
“Let me at least buy you a beer. How about a Guinness, Tartan-Sherl?” Charlie asked.
“Thanks, Charlie, but I only drink . . . uh, the hard stuff,” Nilly said.
The two sat down at a table and were served a cola and a beer.
“So, you’re in the bank-robbing business too, eh?” Charlie said, wiping beer foam off his upper lip.
“Yup,” Nilly said. “I’m always on the lookout for other robbers who’d like to team up on crime sprees with a skilled bandit like myself.”
“What a shame,” Charlie said with a shrug. “We
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