Teacups & Tentacles | ONC 2022

5. Don't Mention the Octopus

Godwin knew it was a mistake to mention his and Alistair's planned foray to the London Zoo as they sat with their drinks in the cosy saloon bar of the Mastermind Society. 

He had been chatting to Peter Redlinkum, an older gentleman with a pronounced wheeze and a terror of words ending in th, about the elusiveness of fame in such callous, superficial times entirely unaware he was being eavesdropped upon. 

"And then there's this sea monster, I'm sure you've heard, that everybody's dying to see," Godwin said. "An octopus. What's that? A bloody big fish, nothing more. Interesting? Perhaps for scholars such as yourself, Peter, with an extensive knowledge of oceanic wonders, but for a real showman, it's an insult of the highest order." Godwin took a swig of his ale, swiping the foam from his mouth with his coat cuff.  "Alistair and I will be viewing it on Saturday." 

"Here, is that the bugger the papers is goin' on about like mad hares?," said Roddy McCringle, leaning down the bar and pointing an accusing finger at Godwin. " Count me in! Wouldn't wanna miss summit like that. Probably a  damn sight more interestin' than your "act" of mind readin' the seating roster."

"Just what are you implying? I'll--" Godwin started, but was drowned out by Stephen Clanker.

"Oh yes, it's been ages since I was at the zoo!" he cried, then nudging the air where his invisible dog sat, he added, "did you hear that, Bobby? The zoo! Lots of other animals for you to make friends with. You'd like that, wouldn't you? Yes? Of course you would. Godwin, Bobby wants to come, too!"

"If you lot are goin', I won't be left behind. Saturday, did you say, gents?" piped in Millie Goldwalken from behind Alistair's elbow, her eye twitch worsening, which was always a sure sign of excitement. Or impending larceny.  

"Now just hold your cog grease, the lot of you," Godwin said, raising his hands. "I said we -- that is, Alistair and myself -- are going, not that we're hiring a holiday omnibus and selling tickets."

"But it's so much more fun in a group! No slight on you, Alistair, even if you aren't officially one of us," Millie said, toasting him with her tiny glass of sherry. "The more, the livelier."

"No offence taken. And yes, why not? A group outing might just be the thing. Good thinking, Millie," Alistair said and placed a hand on Godwin's shoulder. "What do you say, Goddy? A group omnibus outing to see the dreaded monster of the deep? That'd be something we never do."

Godwin took another draught of ale and fixed the entire grinning assembly with his best evil eye. Something which he'd practiced for hours in front of a mirror to perfect back when he thought he'd become an actor. 

"Fine. I can see I'm outnumbered. But you're all responsible for yourselves! I don't want to see a single poor-puppy face at the payment booth. Bobby excepted, of course." 

"Wouldn't 'ave assumed otherwise, you pennysmasher!" bellowed Roddy McCringle before lifting his pint and calling for a toast to the bloody huge fish that everybody in London was far more eager to see than they were the Mastermind's own humble charlatan, Godwin Jones. 

"To the octopus!" he shouted.

"To the octopus!" the rest of the saloon bar answered before collapsing into giggles and reaching out to give Godwin friendly, supportive claps on the shoulder. 

Godwin sank his face into his pint and didn't speak more than two words for the rest of the evening.