THE UGLY MERMAID

AND OTHER AQUATIC TALES

Published and designed by:Hayes Design, East Sussex, England

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Copyright © Clifford James Hayes 2013

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic,

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The Ugly Mermaid, And Other Aquatic Tales, First Edition

THE UGLY MERMAID

AND OTHER AQUATIC TALES

clifford james hayes

www.hayesdesign.co.uk/books

also available:

MurkmyreNocturniaSlugtopia

The Complete Murkmyre Saga

Verity Fruitt And My Magic GonkHairy Tales

(A Collection Of Stories For Naughty Boys And Girls)Podge

(The Pooiest, Ploppiest Pig On The Planet)Grandma Grunt

For other titles available (printed and ebook formats), go to: www.hayesdesign.co.uk/books

Introduction

Hello, my sweets. This little booky-wook is a collection ofthree of my favourite Hairy Tales stories. As hinted at inthe title, they all have a decidely ‘aquatic’ theme. Havingexplained what’s going to happen for the next 97,384 yearsin all my Murkmyre Saga books, and revealed some dark,unsavoury secrets from my past in Verity Fruitt And MyMagic Gonk, I thought it might be nice to dust off this trioof watery tales for younglings and give them a book oftheir own (it was something to do on a quiet Thursday).

The Ugly Mermaid is a perilous undersea adventurewith a twist. Our lonely, tragic heroine spends her daysmournfully wailing on lonely rocks, until an enchanteddolphin comes to her aid. Tasked with retrieving theGolden Beak of Binky The Squid, she begins her questand her struggle to break the terrifyingly evil Witch-Queen of the Abyss’s cruel curse of hideousness. As TheUgly Mermaid puts it herself; ‘Why have the underseagods forsaken me so, and left me with a face that’s aslumpy as a toad’s back? Why do my arms look like fat,tattooed saveloy sausages? What terrible, shameful thinghave I done to end up this way, with my bristly belly oflard and facial jelly-moles the size of jellyfish? Why domy boobs droop like a seal’s flippers, and why are myjowels so bearded and stubbly? I only want to bebeautiful! I only want to be loved!’

Also included herein are The Walrus Story, andShipwreck’d Sarah and the Silly-Looking Pirates; both of

which have titles that are pretty self-explanatory in myopinion, so I won’t waste any more of your time.

Oh, one last thing! I’ve bunged a teasingly-naughtychapter or so of Verity Fruitt And My Magic Gonk on tothe end of this book, just in case you fancy a read.Anyway, that’s (almost) enough of my introductorywaffling, so I’ll shut up now apart from inserting thisbrief disclaimer about the contents herein (once againincluded to try and dissuade angry parents from having ago at me about my horribly unsuitable stories). Please findherein a few reasonably short tales for persons of a fairlyyouthful disposition. Hopefully one or two adults mightenjoy them as well (I doubt it). They are weird and stupid,and a bit naughty and yucky (but in a nice way). It’s justmeant to be a bit of daft fun, so don’t get too upset if yourchild decides to emulate The Ugly Mermaid by struttingaround naked on coastal rocks and bellowing andscreeching a bit. Believe me, it has been known to happen.

customary author’s note:

It may seem as if there are many, many shocking inaccuraciesand punctuation niggles lurking within this book’s waffle -however, these are entirely deliberate. Please bear in mindthat my tales are set in the land of Hairy Make-Believe,where bad grammar is commonplace and quite the norm.

Well, that’s my excuse, and I’m sticking to it.

THE UGLY MERMAID

Once upon a time, there lived a very uglymermaid. The End. Well no, perhaps not quiteThe End, though the story certainly could end

there - no magic potion was ever going to make The UglyMermaid beautiful, no mystical wizard of the sea was evergoing to cast a spell on her to get rid of her fat, blubberybelly, and no handsome prince was ever going to fall underan enchantment and see her as anything other than whatshe was. She was ugly, and that was that. But, perhaps asyou’d expect, that didn’t stop her from wishing otherwise -which is why I think there is a little more to tell.

Despite having a face that made seaweed shrivel andmade sharks cast themselves down into the darkest,inkiest depths of the ocean in utter fear, The UglyMermaid really wasn’t a bad person. Scary-looking, butnot bad. Quite the opposite, in fact - though anyone andeveryone who came into contact with her were always tooafraid of her to discover what The Ugly Mermaid wasreally like.

And that made her cry. A lot. She cried so much (andso loudly) she made ships crash into rocks. Her wailingand screaming made sailors’ ears bleed and the frustratedbanging of her fishy tail on the rocks on which she laysounded like terrible thunder. Sea-farers’ minds becameso befuddled by the cacophonous noise that was the lardysea-siren’s screech they preferred to sink to the bottom ofthe sea to get away from it. Whales and dolphins heardher wails and moans from many leagues away andmistook the noise for the tortuous grumbling of someunknown, terrifying sea-monster.

THE UGLY MERMAID 3

Everyone, and everything, feared her hideousness.They feared her wailing. And stayed well away. No-oneknew her real name - she was simply known as ‘The UglyMermaid’ - which is fair enough, as it summed her upquite nicely. Her given name was only ever uttered infearful, hushed tones, in case some ghastly maritime cursefell on anyone brave enough - or foolish enough - to telltales of her watery deeds.

Every day, without fail and regardless of the weather, shecould be found perched on the same stretch oftreacherous rocky cliffs overlooking the same stretch ofgloomy, threatening sea. The tough, weather-beaten folkwho eked an existence from these unforgiving coastalwaters heard her plaintive wailing and moaning morning,noon and night. Her distant cries sent shivers down theirspines; like the terrified sailors and sea creatures thatheard her cries carrying across the waters, they knew tostay well away.

Were anyone brave enough – or foolish enough - toventure close to her dwelling spot, they would see TheUgly Mermaid holding a rusting, barnacled vanity mirrorin one hand, whilst teasing her long strands of seaweed-tangled blonde hair with a brush held in the other. Thesounds of her melancholia would send them mad withgloom and despair. As a consequence, no-one ever came.

And every day she cried out the same pleadingquestions. ‘Why, oh why am I so hideous?,’ The UglyMermaid would cry out to the dark ocean. ‘Why have theundersea gods forsaken me so, and left me with a face

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that’s as lumpy as a toad’s back? Why do my arms looklike fat, tattooed saveloy sausages? What terrible,shameful thing have I done to end up this way, with mybristly belly of lard and facial jelly-moles the size ofjellyfish? Why do my boobs droop like a seal’s flippers,and why are my jowls so bearded and stubbly? I only wantto be beautiful! I only want to be loved!’ And every dayher same pleading questions went unheeded.

And so The Ugly Mermaid’s life continued withoutchange. Until one day, something quite unexpectedhappened. As she gazed dolefully and morosely at theendless grey of the dull skies in her part of the world,there was a sudden break in the clouds, and a tiny chinkof brilliant sunlight beamed down on to the murky seasbelow. She followed the path of the sunbeam, and saw thedelightful sight of a playful dolphin arcing through thewater.

How happy it looked, as it danced and weavedthrough the waves, before slipping beneath the sea andout of view. Seeing the dolphin in this manner – a joyfulanimal amidst a grim and gloomy sea - stirred somethinginside The Ugly Mermaid. Perhaps hope and happinesscould be found where such things seemed nighimpossible?

Quite without further consideration or reason, shetook it on herself to follow the creature; she carefullyplaced her mirror and hand-brush on the rocks, beforeflolloping on to her stomach and shuddering her vastwalrus-like bulk toward the ocean. The sea was only a few

feet away, yet her flabby body strained and struggled toget her to the water’s edge. With a bellowing grunt and afinal thrust, she cleared the last of the rocks and belly-flopped into the icy water with a tumultuous splash.

As mentioned, the seas beside the rocks she calledhome were dark and foreboding; she’d never enjoyedswimming in them, even though they matched her manymournful moods. Despite her dislike of the icy surgingwaters and its strong tides and currents, she could moveat speed now that she was off dry land. She swam as fastas she could toward the spot where she’d last seen thedolphin, but already it was nowhere to be found. Diving,she noticed the seabed dipped sharply at this point alongthe coastline; if she intended to find the dolphin, she hadno choice but to swim deeper and further into the gloomydepths. To give up now would mean defeat; a sad returnto her miserable life on the bleak rocks by the shore. Shedecided to swim on.

The Ugly Mermaid had no idea how long she swam;having previously spent most of her time wailing andcrying on the rocks (and combing her hair), it would befair to say she wasn’t used to so much physical activity.You won’t be surprised to hear she soon became tired; herwobbly, sausage-like arms and fish-like lower-half wentnumb from the ache of swimming and diving ever deeperinto the ocean. And there was so little to see; dull, murkywater and a flat, lifeless seabed beneath. Yet still shepressed-on in her search.

She wasn’t quite sure if it was her imagination, or

merely exhaustion playing tricks on her mind, buteventually she became aware of a tiny glimmer ofshimmering light amidst the gloom. At first, The UglyMermaid took the light-source to be merely the glowfrom luminescent deep-sea creatures; some of themillions of miniature thingys that bobbed-aroundaimlessly at these depths. But, eventually she could makeout structure and shape amongst the glowing andpulsating lights that danced so deep beneath the waves.Swimming ever closer to the glow, she gasped as sheeventually realised what it was – a magical underseakingdom! And there, swimming slowly but purposefullytoward this aquatic underworld was the very samedolphin that had inspired her to take the plunge andbegin her amazing adventure.

The dolphin soon became aware of her presence, andturned to meet The Ugly Mermaid. Mermaids knewdolphins could speak, but she was amazed at this one’seloquence – truly, she surmised, he must be a dolphin ofsome importance.

‘I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, milady,’ thedolphin began. The Ugly Mermaid had never been calledmilady before. She felt herself blush, and noticed a fewembarrassed bubbles rise from her bottom. She struggledto give a response to this well-mannered creature. ‘Ifmilady would care to accompany me,’ continued thedolphin, politely, ‘I should be delighted to introduce herto the King of the Undersea World.’

The Ugly Mermaid couldn’t believe her ears. Hoursbefore she had been merely a fat, lonely and forgotten

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mermaid, who spent her days moaning and moping onthe shoreline. Now, she was on the verge of meeting noneother than the mighty King of the Undersea World,whose power extended to every sea, waterway and ocean.Timeless, wise and ancient, she knew the all-powerfulKing had created every living thing that swam beneaththe waves – including herself.

‘Perhaps, at last, the truth will be revealed,’ she said toherself. ‘The truth of why I’m so ugly and why I’ve hadsuch a miserable life. And perhaps there’s hope for me yet;perhaps the King will find it within himself to transformmy hideousness into something resembling beauty.’Trembling with hope and anticipation, she bade thedolphin lead on.

Within minutes, she had been ushered through thewondrous kingdom’s majestic pearl gates. She and thedolphin swam past opulent temples and through goldencorridors that seemed to go on forever. Everywhere shelooked, The Ugly Mermaid couldn’t believe her eyes; she’dnever seen so many riches and such elaboratearchitecture. And the aquatic creatures who went abouttheir business within the city walls looked so noble; therewere dolphins wearing coronets and capes and decoratedwhales of all sizes ferrying smaller creatures from onedestination to the next. There were dressed crustaceanscarrying important-looking documents and jewels, andmany other kinds of fish and undersea animals busyingthemselves with the daily functions of life within thekingdom. Finally, she was led through a pair of immense

golden doors and into the Royal Court – and there, facingher was the one and only King of the Undersea World.

The King sat on a magnificently splendiferous multi-coloured throne made of carved coral, reading hisnewspaper and sipping on a cup of tea. He was dressed inhis favourite brown cardigan (with patches over theelbows), comfortable beige corduroy trousers and a worn-out pair of old slippers. A ridiculously tall crown made ofcrispy seaweed, crushed shells and crab legs wobbledprecariously on his head. Lobsters played gentlebackground music on miniature violins, while a circle ofseals and porpoises gently swam above his head, fanninghim cool with their tails. The dolphin that had guidedThe Ugly Mermaid this far swam over to His Majestyand talked quietly with him for a few moments.

A look of intrigue came over the King’s face, as heheard the dolphin’s report and studied The UglyMermaid. He then brushed the dolphin away and putdown his newspaper, making ready to talk. The UglyMermaid was then requested by the dolphin to addressthe King – trembling, she slowly came closer. He bade herspeak.

‘Y-your Majesty,’ she began, bowing, ‘I am trulyhonoured to be in your presence.’

‘Nonsense,’ the King replied kindly, ‘it is we who arehonoured – your woeful story is legendary throughout ourkingdom.’

‘My story?,’ she asked, confused. ‘My lord, I-I don’tunderstand. I have no story – I’m nothing more than a fat,ugly mermaid who mopes about on rocks all day.’

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‘Oh, no - not so,’ the King responded dismissively.‘Word reached my ear many years ago about the cursethat was so cruelly laid upon you.’

‘Curse, my lord? But I know of no curse.’‘Of course not,’ the King replied, with a knowing nod.

‘Part of the curse was to leave you with no knowledge ofwho you truly are.’ The King took The Ugly Mermaid’spale and sweaty hands in his own. ‘You were once amermaid princess,’ he continued. ‘You were cursed foryour radiant beauty by the terrifyingly evil Witch-Queenof the Abyss, who, in a rage of spite and jealousy, turnedyou into the fat, useless lump you now are. It is lucky mydolphin herald found you – it was by mere accident andchance that he espied you on the black rocks of thatforlorn shoreline. Now, thankfully, we have the chance toundo the dark magic done to you.’

The Ugly Mermaid didn’t dare to hope. ‘W-what, youmean …?’

‘Yes!,’ continued the King, his eyes wide withexcitement. ‘There is a way to lift the curse.’

‘But how?,’ The Ugly Mermaid exclaimed, almostunable to bring herself to hope it could possibly be true.

The King continued, with a grave look on his face. ‘Tobreak the terrifyingly evil Witch-Queen of the Abyss’scurse you must first undertake a number of perilous - andadmittedly, pointless - adventures. You must spend exactlyone whole year looking for the Golden Beak of Binky theSquid. Not a day more, not a day less. It can be found inthe Chamber of Nibbled Doom. Then you shall be setfree of your ugly thralldom. Simple at that, really.’

‘The Chamber of Nibbled Doom, Your Majesty,’ TheUgly Mermaid repeated uncertainly. ‘W-where is that, mylord?’

‘I’ve no idea,’ the King yawned absently. ‘Probablysomewhere dark, menacing and extremely dangerous.’

The Ugly Mermaid looked terrified at the prospect ofundertaking what sounded to be such a dangerous task.‘Fear not,’ continued the King. ‘You shall not be alone. Ihereby designate my herald dolphin, Gerald, to be yourfaithful companion throughout your epically perilousadventure doo-dah. He is to guard you with his life.’ Ittook a few moments for Gerald, the dolphin whom TheUgly Mermaid had followed to the Undersea World, torealize he was being talked about. When he became awareof what the King had just commanded him to do, he notsurprisingly went more than a little pale.

‘Be off, then!,’ bellowed the King, abruptly. ‘See you ina year’s time. Make haste on your adventure, and goodluck to you both in your search for the Golden Beak ofBinky the Squid. When you’ve been successful in yourquest, come back here and we will celebrate. Fail, anddon’t bother to return.’ He then went back to hisnewspaper and cup of tea, and ordered his shrimpservants to fetch him some nice biscuits.

Gideon, one of the King’s favourite shrimp servants,bravely asked his master a question. ‘My lord, willbringing the Golden Beak of Binky the Squid here reallylift the curse from The Ugly Mermaid?’

The King chuckled. ‘Of course not. But if she spendsa year doing lots of dangerous, adventurey things, she’s

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bound to lose a bit of weight. And then we can tell her thecurse must’ve gone. As long as I get my Golden Beak, I’mnot bothered.’

And so exactly one year of epically perilous adventuredoo-dahs came to pass for The Ugly Mermaid and herdolphin companion Gerald the herald. They battledstormy seas and swam through five oceans in their huntfor clues that might lead them to the Golden Beak ofBinky the Squid. They fought numerous giant deep-seamonsters in the Pacific, were frozen into blocks of ice inthe Arctic and then almost roasted alive by hungrysavages in the Tropics. They braved treacherous stormsand fought with hideous ghost pirates. They weretemporarily turned into zombies by Haitian voodoofishermen and drained of their blood by vampire sea-frogs. They were almost eaten alive by narbled jellybeastsfrom the Shetland Isles, and battled the terrifyingly evilWitch-Queen of the Abyss (she who had placed the curseon The Ugly Mermaid) on many occasions. I could tellyou about all these (and other) adventures, but it wouldtake forever and I’m sure you’re keen to know whathappened when they finally found the Golden Beak ofBinky the Squid. So we’ll fast-forward to that bit …

And so it came to pass that, exactly one year after TheUgly Mermaid’s encounter with the King of the UnderseaWorld, she and Gerald the herald dolphin finally foundthe Golden Beak of Binky the Squid. It was lodged highin the roof of an enormous undersea cavern; its goldenradiance showered the cavern in cascading rainbows of

brilliant light. Gerald read inscriptions etched into thestones beneath its resting place, and recited the GoldenBeak’s tale to The Ugly Mermaid; many years before, theterrifyingly evil Witch-Queen of the Abyss had battledwith Binky the Squid. Binky was the largest squid everborn, measuring some five hundred feet in length. Tocelebrate how cool he was for being five hundred feetlong, Binky had had his beak plated in solid gold. Jealousof Binky’s wondrous beak, the terrifyingly evil Witch-Queen of the Abyss sought to destroy the squid and claimthe beak as her own.

Their battle lasted two hundred and sixty-seven days;eventually, the terrifyingly evil Witch-Queen of theAbyss won by chopping his tentacles into little pieces andeating him bit by bit. The weight of Binky’s fallen bodycaused the sea-bed to collapse beneath him. Amid thechaos and devastation of the collapse, Binky’s GoldenBeak became wedged in rock and remained hidden formany years. Eventually, a legion of small, silt-eating blobcreatures noticed something shiny when silt washed awaythe sea-bed surface after a storm. They swallowed the siltand nibbled at the surrounding rock until Binky’s GoldenBeak was revealed in all its glory. They worshipped thebeak, and nibbled a huge hole out of the rock on the sea-bed. This hole became their place of worship, and theblob creatures nibbled many inscriptions into the rockwalls beneath the beak. Their place of worship eventuallybecame the enormous undersea cavern The UglyMermaid and Gerald were now swimming in; the fabledChamber of Nibbled Doom!

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Unfortunately, just as she was about to swim up to theGolden Beak wedged in the rock above their heads andclaim it for the King of the Undersea World, The UglyMermaid realized they were not alone. With a boom ofthunder and a crackle of lightning, the terrifyingly evilWitch-Queen of the Abyss made herself known.

‘So, ugly fish-lady,’ cackled the terrifyingly evil Witch-Queen of the Abyss, ‘we meet again.’

The terrifyingly evil Witch-Queen of the Abyss wasdressed in her favourite spookily tatty black dress, andcarried her black, staff-like magic cane. Silky, long blackhair hung down her face and trailed behind her. Her facewas white and wrinkled, and had a single, huge,unblinking eye placed centrally above her slit-likenostrils. Too much black eyeliner makeup made her looklike a skinny, evil, one-eyed sea-panda. When she spoke,it sounded like nails scraping down a blackboard. ‘Youand your pet dolphin will not escape me this time, and Ishall finally claim the Golden Beak of Binky the Squid asmy own.’

Now for the action bit! Gerald the dolphin made adesperate lunge for the Golden Beak, but a bolt oflightning from the terrifyingly evil Witch-Queen of theAbyss’s magic cane sent him plummeting to the ground.In retaliation, The Ugly Mermaid thrashed at the waterwith her tail and sent herself in a dive toward theterrifyingly evil Witch-Queen of the Abyss. At the lastmoment, The Ugly Mermaid straightened herself so thather fat stomach would hit the terrifyingly evil Witch-Queen of the Abyss with maximum impact. The plan

AN EXTRACT FROM

VERITY FRUITT

AND MY MAGIC GONK ...

THE TRUTH

Hopefully you’re too young to know very muchabout offices. Take it from me, they’re utterlyhorrible places (I recommend reading the rest of

this paragraph in a painfully slow and whiny drone, inorder to see exactly what I mean) ... just lots and lots ofgrey, stale-smelling rooms with harsh lights that give youmigraines, the occasional feebly wilting half-dead-looking plant in a pot, and row after row of cluttered,coffee-stained tables. The walls are covered in drabmessage boards with out-of-date notices that nobody everreads, while dry, discarded corners of ancient sandwichesgrow mould as they’re squashed and kicked around underdesks. Thrill to the buzzing mosquito-hum of computers,fax machines and photo-copiers; fill your nostrils with theheavenly odour of stale dust intermingled with the whiffof cheap air-freshener. Clocks on walls seem to go everbackwards instead of forwards, and it is always February10th (the bleakest day of the year). Your boss will alwayshave an endless list of boring, boring, boring things foryou to do, and the glass-prison windows to the outsideworld seem to laugh at you and say ‘tough luck, matey -you’re stuck in here until 5 o’ clock at the earliest’. Andthen, just as you think it can’t get any worse, you lookaround at your equally miserable colleagues; imaginespending half your entire life alongside persons you havenothing in common with; persons you don’t like verymuch, and who don’t like you. Persons who sometimes

THE UGLY MERMAID 43

(actually, often) smell pretty funky, or have vile habits, orare just generally not very nice at all. See? I told youoffices were horrible; I highly recommend you seek anoutdoorsy career that involves painting pigs’ toenails,milking chickens, shaving capercaillies in the ScottishHighlands, or something else just as equally worthwhile.

Anyway, the reason for this literary waffle (that I havethe audacity to refer to as ‘a story’) is that I felt the needto advise you there is something else you should knowabout offices; something rather more macabre and sinisterthan grey, dull rooms, matching stationery items andendless tedium. When your mum or dad groans and says‘Oh, my boss was a bit of a monster today’, believe mewhen I say that nothing could be closer to the truth. Foryou see, Managers really are secret monsters; I’ve seen theproof for myself.

When bosses say to one another; ‘Dahling, let’s go tothe toilets, in order to have a nice, refreshing pootogether’ (as they often do), they actually mean (in ascreechy, alien-monster-style voice) ‘Let’s go to thetoilets, in order to exchange evil information about ourfoolish lesser-being slaves, using our mandible-monster-antennaetrons.’

And believe me, there’s even more sinister stuff to tell;bosses are able to peel off their human outer skins, inorder to reveal their monstrously frightening creature-selves beneath! I have discovered that bosses are actuallyhideous beasts beneath their skin-suits, and can take many,many monstrous forms. Despite often being gargantuanin size, they are seemingly able to compress their true

dimensions into the relatively tight confines of a human’sshape and physique, in order to fool us all.

I’ve every belief that once they’ve slipped off theirpeople-suits, they love nothing better than to extend theirmandible-monster-antennaetrons from their heads andtransfer evil, secret messages to one another about theirunsuspecting human servants; I can only deduce this is allsomething to do with secretly taking over the world(unless they’ve already done so). How do I know all this,and how did I find this out? Well, when I worked in anoffice (many years ago, thankfully) I happened toaccidentally walk into the ladies’ toilet (yes, it was anaccident, actually, or at least I thought so at the time), andI discovered the horrific truth for myself. This is whathappened ...

I went to the loo one tedious afternoon (for a breakfrom the eye-glazing monotony of staring at a computerscreen all day) and dozily opened the door marked‘Ladies’. I sauntered inside, and was aghast withgobsmacked, disbelieving astonishment at what I sawstanding in front of the sink/mirror combo area of thetoilet room. My own boss (a ‘lady’ named OctaviaFlangewhippet, who was foul and loathsome even inhuman form) had removed her own outer dermal layer,revealing the head of some form of hideous inter-dimensional space-tarantula (with eight black, unblinkingeyes) and the oozing body of the slimiest slug ever. Besideher in the toilets was Miranda Gravelpitt (an equallyhideous boss from the Department downstairs), who’dalso unpeeled her fake human skin; beneath it, Miranda

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turned out to have the head of a preying mantis (withswirly, psychedelic red eyes and a snappy, vicious-lookingbeak) and the body of a purple cockroach. Theirunsheathed skins lay at their feet like discarded lumps oftripe, and their face-masks (and wigs) lay on top of these.The wigs were the only way I could recognize thesefiendish creatures. Both Octavia and Miranda had theirmandibles extended, and were transferring informationbetwixt themselves at an alarming rate (this spectacle ofdata-transfer resembled the way ants communicate withone another, with lots of touchy-feely antennae action). Alake of what I can only describe as oozing pus was seepingfrom their knees for some reason, and was accompaniedby a symphony of bizarre, squelching sounds and high-pitched ‘bibbling’ noises. A ‘wubba-wubba-wubba’pulsating throb emanated from the hideous creatures’bottoms, while hundreds of little root-like tentacles weresprouting out of their lower legs and rapidly making theirprobing way across the floor toward me. Thankfully, soengrossed were they in their message transfer they neversaw me and I was able to fearfully slip away and avoidbeing eaten alive (or worse). Anyway, it’s all completelytrue (and I have similar suspicions about school teachers,too). My magic gonk later informed me that it hadplanted into my brain the suggestion that I should walkinto the ladies’ toilets; I’d only believed I’d walked in thereby mistake, and my magic gonk had actually done it toprepare me for the terrible truth about bosses. So who (orwhat) is my magic gonk? You’ll soon see ...

DISSECTING A TOAD

Leaving gonks aside for a short while, we must nowplough ever forth through this bonkers dirge, so that Imay bring to your attention the main protagonist of thistale; a certain Ms. Verity Fruitt.

Ms. (pronounced muzz - ugh, I know; vile) Fruitt alsoworked in my office - though she was oblivious to all themonstrously fantastical goings-on between the bosses.Verity Fruitt was probably the most horrible person youcould ever work with (human, monster or otherwise), andshe had something called ‘ambition’. Verity wanted tobecome a boss, which I realized meant she would probablyone day transform into one of the loathsome, repellentcreatures I had seen in the office toilets.

How shall I describe Verity? Well, imagine a five foottall orange toad sitting squat behind a desk. That’s Verity,that is. With canary-blue eyeliner, a permanent sheen ofsweat and darting, beady eyes that scan everything theysurvey. Imagine an ill-fitting ‘power-suit’ outfit (that’sready to burst at the buttons at any moment), a bristly,caterpillar-like orange moustache sitting atop scabbygherkin lips and a deep, gravelly voice so booming andscary it could crack rocks. Imagine a heart as caring as aswinging brick, completely devoid of any sympathy,warmth and compassion.

Imagine someone who always arrives late for work(blaming the train and/or others), who stops working thesecond the boss is out of the room, and who always takes

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very, very extended lunches (but expects ‘underlings’ towork through their own). Imagine someone who takesevery opportunity to make everyone else and their worklook incompetent, but who makes sure she spends everyavailable moment with her boss; giving her compliments,hanging off her every word and whispering horriblewormy-tongued lies about her work colleagues. That’sVerity, that is.

Imagine a narrow-minded little walnut of a brainrattling inside that toad-skull, designed for one thing andone thing only; the self-preservation and advancement ofMs. (pronounced muzz) Verity Fruitt. Shudder!

And she was just as vile outside the office. Every nightafter work, she’d pick up a giant doner kebab and a largebottle of cola from her local take-away. When she gothome, she’d sit in bed with her skewered gristle andtooth-rot soda pop feast, stuffing her face as she watchedtrashy late night tv until she passed out. She had a vat oflard beside her bed that she dipped pieces of kebab ‘meat’into. She’d then finish off with an immense bar of (lard-smeared) chocolate, eating as much as she could until shefelt sick (there was a bedside bucket, just in case). Thegiant kebab, chocolate and cola combo would mean herduvet would rise and fall regularly throughout the night(explosive bottom-expulsions, you understand). Whendawn came and her alarm went off, she’d wake with ableary ‘Eh? Wazzat?’ and find herself amongst a mound ofdiscarded oily food wrapping and shrivelled chunks ofstale junk food. Dried drool and ‘matter’ that hadsomehow missed her enormous chasm of a gob would be

THE UGLY MERMAID 49

encrusted on her chin and moustache. Grumbling toherself, she’d stumble to her bathroom, squeeze a fewspots and then take a shower (to wash the discarded,matted food-chunks from her exterior). She’d then combher moustache and making herself look vaguelypresentable, before picking up some waste kebab gristleoff the bed (or carpet) and popping them into herhandbag for lunch. She’d then set off for another day atthe office.

How do I know all this? Simple; she told the wholeoffice (when our boss was out, naturally). She was proudof being so grotesque and loathsome. And no-one inauthority would believe it of her anyway, as she was sucha sycophantic, fawning crawly-creep to them.

So, despite her being (technically) human, you can seethat she wasn’t far off becoming a monster already. VerityFruitt had ambition and hideousness; she felt‘untouchable’, and was well on her way to becoming whatshe wanted to be. However, fate and my magic gonk werethere to intervene ...

It would be fair to say that Verity and I never got on fromthe moment we met. When I joined that office, I quicklygot the measure of Ms. Fruitt and of her schemes andambitions. Her hideous, toad-like appearance andshower-sauna-created orangeness were understandablyoff-putting, too. Perhaps unsurprisingly, she took animmediate dislike to me too - she knew I couldn’t befooled by her slipperiness. She saw my job as nothingmore than messing-around with words and pictures on a

computer screen (fair enough, I suppose). She alsothought me just plain weird, which is also fair enough,when I think about it. Anyway, our boss Octavia quicklypicked-up on our mutual dislike and thought it best to situs within inches of one another, as she thought theinevitable friction would be quite amusing (bosses aregood at things like that).

The thing she disliked most about me was my magicgonk. What’s a magic gonk, I hear you squeal? Why, agonk with magical skills and powers, of course. So what’sa non-magic gonk? Well, your parents may rememberthem; a gonk could take many forms, but it was usuallyjust a used toilet roll tube that had a bit of shaggy, groovy-coloured fake fur wrapped around it, with a pair ofcardboard eyes stapled or glued on to the front. Oh, justgo and Google ‘gonk’ and you’ll see what I mean. Anyway,I had a gonk, and luckily for me it was the magicalversion; one of my fairground relatives had given it to me,back in the seventies. It had sorcery skills and knew spellsand enchantments, and protected me from Verity andOctavia. It could also predict the future. And I kept it onmy desk so that it could stare at Verity (and cast spells ather) every day. And just generally annoy her.

Verity detested my magic gonk. At first, she justthought it weird that a grown man (I’m stretching thedefinition here when referring to myself, I’ll admit)should have a hairy, staring toy on his desk. As time wenton, I increasingly mentioned the magic gonk’s influenceon my life; if I missed a meeting with Verity, I said themagic gonk had told me to miss it. And when I did attend

THE UGLY MERMAID 51

a meeting, I took my magic gonk with me. If she askedwhat I did at the weekend (nosiness, you understand, notfrivolous curiosity or genuine interest), I said I took mymagic gonk to the circus/zoo, et cetera. If I ignoredVerity’s instructions on work projects, I said the magicgonk had told me not to listen to her (besides, Veritywasn’t my boss; she was just one of those persons wholiked to think she was). All very childish of me, I suppose,but it was essential that I kept Verity ‘on her toes’, so thatshe didn’t feel comfortable around me. A word of advice;if anyone ever bullies or bothers you, just be weird aroundthem; it confuses them and they can’t handle it.

My gonk-centric weirdness got too much for her atone point. I remember walking in from lunch andcatching her trying to remove my gonk from my desk. Soinsistent was she on getting rid of it, she was standing onthe table heaving at the little purple fur-thing with all her(not inconsiderable) might. I’ll never forget thatloathsome vision; her white stiletto shoes were wedgedprecariously on the table-edge; the already-stressedstitching on her power-suit ready to rip; her orange man-muscles straining on her neck and upper arms.Unfortunately for Verity, I’d superglued the gonk to thetable, so she didn’t have much luck there. On anotheroccasion, I purchased a dozen identical-looking gonksand left them in some of the unsavoury places I knew shefrequented (making sure I had a word with the proprietorof each establishment, in order to gain the mostprominent, easy-to-see positions for my gonk army). I leftthe first gonk in Amal’s Ok Meat! Grill (which was the

dubious name of her favourite kebab shop), a second gonkwas left in The Broken Spirit (the seedy dive-of-a-pub onthe corner), one in Honest Ron’s Bookmakers, and several inKinky Tim’s Go-Go Nightclub. I stuck the next gonk inSticky Dave’s Discount Chocolate Outlet, one in SwarthyBill ’s Sweat ‘n’ Solarium Boudoir, another one in The FilthySpoon (her favourite breakfast café), and a couple in NastyNigel ’s Wrestling (the local cage-fighters’ gym, whereVerity would regularly pick up her ‘boy’ ‘friends’). Basedon my previous experience, I decided to avoid placing onein the ladies’ lavatory at the office. The gonks had thedesired effect; seeing them everywhere she went made hervery paranoid indeed. But angry. She tried to get Octaviato do something about the gonk glued to my desk, but thethought of it stressing Verity out so much brought muchcruel mirth and amusement to our mutual boss.

‘The gonk stays, dahling,’ Octavia declared, with acackle and a callous smile.

There were others in our office, of course. There wasBazwell, who didn’t seem to have a specific job (or muchwork to do); he just ... wobbled around in his very largeswivel armchair, sighed a great deal and reminisced about‘classic rock’. He never took his enormous Reactolightshaded spectacles off (except on one occasion, only toeerily reveal a pair of very tiny little eyes that looked likeraisins). There was also sweet-but-timid little Pweeee(I’ve no idea if that’s how you’d write her name, but that’swhat it sounded like), the Intern from Hong Kong; sheworked for free and was so utterly terrified of Octavia andVerity (who’d both threatened to get her ‘shipped back

THE UGLY MERMAID 53

home’ on many occasions) that she was their virtual slave.Then there was Marys, an elderly Secretary from

Papua New Guinea. She was also a compulsive bingogambler, living a (not very) secret life squandering her payevery lunchtime down at the Gala bingo hall. Full of faith(she worshipped some New Guinean deity called Oom-ballapapalalla Shaka Manaloko), she’d spend eachafternoon flushing her head down the toilet, being full ofguilt and repentance. Old Hubert, the Jamaican Janitorwas a bit of an odd-bod; he shuffled around naked (apartfrom an oversized trenchcoat) and was convinced he wasa witch doctor from the far future named Papa Spookeh.After work, he went back to his home on the terrifyingjungle planet of Nocturnia. Apparently. And of course, Imustn’t forget Egbert the Snail-Fancier. He didn’t fancysnails ‘in that way’, he just liked them as friends, andalways kept a few about his person in ‘moister’ places.Egbert’s job title was Senior Photo-Copy Assistant; hestood by the photo-copier all day, every day, pressing themachine’s start button. That was all he did.

It was all very sad. So worn down were my colleaguesby the incessant tawdriness of that office (and by Octaviaand Verity’s vileness), I regret to say they were all almostas grey as the wallpaper; the malevolent Dyson that waslife in that office had utterly cyclone-sucked the souls outof them, and they seemed resigned to enduring a lifetimeof endless days of that woeful existence. I vowed to neverbecome like that.

That said, I was young, skint and I needed to make aliving, so I kept my head down, worked hard and did my

best to tolerate Verity and her relentless foulness (someexamples of which now follow) ...

Verity had a habit of breaking wind just before leavingthe room (making it look like I was responsible for thewhiff ). Anyone who knows me knows that my bottom isincapable of any such expulsions (and even if it were, thetrouser-trumpets would be sweet and fragrant). Due toher rancid kebab-and-cola diet, her bottom-burpssmelled worse than a rotting sheep (actually, I supposethey were the smell of a rotting sheep, knowing whatkebabs are supposedly made of ). When Octavia was outof the room, Verity’s orange vanity mirror was whippedfrom her dreaded desk drawer (a Pandora’s Box ofgrimness, believe me) and her gouging-out of ‘t-zoneblackheads’ using the button-end of her biro wouldimmediately commence. She used to collect theseremoved pore-blockers in a large matchbox; she wouldwait until they had congealed into a solid lump of fat andthen reapply them as ‘hand-cream’. Delightful.

Being a sweaty so-and-so, she also used to keep TheRag in her drawer of doom. The Rag was a worn, utterlystinking piece of cloth that she would regularly wipe hershiny face, belly-button and rainforest-like armpits with;she would occasionally give it a bit of a spray with somecologne, but not very often. You could see the sweat-steam rising from The Rag, and it was quiteunmistakable; she’d marker-penned a large ‘V’ letter on it,to make it clear it was hers and no-one else’s (as if anyonewould ever willingly go near it).

Need I go on? Why not; she had a crystalline stalactite

THE UGLY MERMAID 55

of snot forming beneath her desk; she would pick thegunged contents from her nose and carefully apply themto the same place under the table in order to build up aminiature bogie spire. She also had a separate under-tablestalactite made from any plaque and food chunks she’dmanaged to remove from between her teeth. Her earwaxwas so bad you could smell it from the other side of theroom; I once saw a brown wax lump the size of a Malteserchocolate fall from her ear after she’d given it a vigorouspoke. The lump plopped into her coffee. She then drankit. Twice a week she went to Swarthy Bill ’s Sweat ‘n’Solarium Boudoir at lunchtime, to ‘get a sweat on and getall oranged up’; she’d have an hour in one of his solariumsun showers (set on maximum-setting; thermonuclear),and would return looking (and smelling) like a lump ofburnt charcoal that had fallen off the barbecue.

The worst thing associated with Verity was probablyher cyst. She had a ‘benign’ (I use the term verygenerously) lump on the back of her left shoulder that shewould ‘play with’. When bad-tempered and/or stressed(ie. always) Verity would knead it with her fingers,making the cyst flare up in size until the surrounding skinwas close to rupturing. And then she would deliberatelypop it, making the rancid-smelling gunge-fluid insidepropel into the air at high velocity and force. The‘popping’ was always done when Octavia was absent fromthe office, and the cyst was always pointed in mydirection.

As if all these personal unpleasantnesses weren’tenough, you won’t be surprised to hear her working

manner and general demeanour toward her supposedcolleagues were just as repellent. She’d spend her workingweek doing very little (apart from doing her nails, yappingto friends on the phone and preening herself in her orangevanity mirror), then would land ‘urgent’ projects on mydesk at 5.29pm on a Friday evening - knowing full wellthat Octavia would need me to have it done by first thingMonday. This went on for many months, scuppering anychance of me having a decent weekend; there was no pointcomplaining to Octavia because she had no interest inhow her underlings conducted themselves in the office, solong as the work was done to schedule and it didn’t impacton her in any way.

Here’s some more Verityesque horridness for you; asmentioned earlier, she would bully Pweeee the Internwith threats about deportation back to Hong Kong. Shewould also (literally) drag her down to the file room, andgive her a list of impossible-to-source (and often non-existent) folders she supposedly needed immediately.When Pweeee naturally failed in her unfeasible tasks, shewould have to report to Verity at the end of the day, inorder to be locked in The Shame Cupboard overnight.Resenting the fact he did so little, Verity also tried herbest to be horrible to Bazwell. But Bazwell was prettyindomitable; any attempts at offloading work on to himwere met with a sigh, an anecdote about Mott TheHoople from 1974, and a meandering three hour saunterto the coffee machine.

She struggled with Egbert the Snail-Fancier, too. Hewas so wrapped-up in his pet escargots and his photo-

THE UGLY MERMAID 57

copying machine that any other subject just didn’tcompute with him; try and give him a bit of filing ortyping to do and he would just wander off to his SecretSnail Chamber (this was a room on the fifth floor thatonly he had a key to; when stressed, he would go there, lieon the floor with the lights off, and let the thousands ofsnails he kept within crawl and slime all over him). Verityhad much better luck with Marys the Secretary, however;she would bully her in much the same way as she didPweeee, making her do all her typing for her by spitefullythreatening to tell her deity Oom-ballapapalalla ShakaManaloko about her bingo habit if she didn’t.

Verity even tried to pick on Old Hubert once, whichwas a bit pointless seeing as neither he nor his janitorialduties had anything to do with her. She tried to force himto ‘run errands’ for her (a lard sandwich from the café, aflutter at the betting shop, a ‘you’re dumped’ message toone of her ex-beaus at the wrestling gym), and tried thenasty ‘deportation’ threats she successfully used on Pweeeeif he objected. This was a bit of a mistake; Hubert simplyremoved his unpleasantly stained overcoat to reveal hisageing, wrinkly nudie-nakedness and summoned ‘thespirit of Papa Spookeh’ into his body. He then followedthe horrified Ms. Fruitt around the office, bellowingvoodoo incantations, shaking his ju-ju beads andthrowing curses on her head for the rest of the day.Hubert continued doing the same when she tried to leavefor the evening; he followed her home and spent hourscasting spells outside her front door until the policefinally carted him away. Assuming that was an end to the

situation, Verity was shocked to see him return to work aday or so later. She immediately tried to get him fired,until a Manager explained that Hubert wasn’t actually onthe payroll; Hubert was happy to work for free, and they’dno intention of turning away someone with that kind ofcommitment.

I guess I could spend all day going on about Verity’svileness, but I’m pretty sure you get the idea by now. I’llconclude by just mentioning what she grimly referred toas ‘Verity’s Friday-Night Man-Treat’. She always saw thelast day of the working week as ‘party night’ - whichmeant a quick trip to Nasty Nigel ’s Wrestling at lunchtime,in order to ‘check out the talent on offer’ and make theappropriate propositions to whichever confusedindividual was demented enough to go out with her. Sureenough, every Friday evening there would always be abull-necked human gorilla waiting by the office’s exit(holding a single red rose for her, just as she’d pre-arranged at lunchtime). An evening meal (at the kebabshop), followed by drinkies at The Broken Spirit, thendancing at Kinky Tim’s Go-Go Nightclub, followed by ...ugh, I really don’t want to know, and neither should you.Hideous.

Anyhow, it’s probably about time that I got on withthe story, so here goes ...

THE STORY CONTINUES IN VERITYFRUITT AND MY MAGIC GONK

AVAILABLE FROM AMAZONAND ALL GOOD BOOK STORES.

Right, that’s enough of all that. Anyway, if you’ve enjoyedthese words of utter nonsense, please tell your friendsabout The Ugly Mermaid and command them to buy lotsof copies. Or buy them one for Christmas, Easter, theirbirthday, the anniversary of the death of their gerbil, etcetera.

Overleaf is some info about my other booky-wooks (forgrown-ups, children, and those surly in-between people).Most of them are now available in both printed book andebook formats. More details can be found online atAmazon and at other online stores. Please also see thelinks on my website at www.hayesdesign.co.uk/books

books for younger readers:

PodgeThe pooiest, ploppiest pig on the planet!

Podge the pig’s belly turned others to jelly; His bottom-emissions were rotten and smelly! The pig often found himself in a foul mood, (Mainly because all he ate was junk food). His animal friends said enough was enough, And mutually agreed it was time to get tough. The question remained, though - what could they do, About Podge the pig’s bottom-burps, splatters and poo?

A hilarious tale about theevils of eating bad food.Introducing Podge - the pigwho revolts in more waysthan one! Will Queen Sheepand the farm be able to doanything about Podge thepig, or will his bottom win inthe end? ...

FULLY ILLUSTRATED THROUGHOUT. Available infull colour, laminated, large paperback format from Amazonand all good booksellers.

Grandma Grunt

Children of all ages (and adults)will squeal with delight atGrandma Grunt’s horrendoushabits! Edgar and Wilhelmina’sgrandma is the worst in theworld. Don’t believe me? Readthis for yourself! Grandma Grunt(and her slimy son, UncleDisgusting) make the children’slives an utter misery with theirloathsomely weird ways andselfish cruelty.

In desperate retaliation, Edgarand Wilhelmina come up with

The Plan - but will it be enough to put an end to GrandmaGrunt’s loathsome ways? Also included are a couple of separatestory-poem things; The Lurgatron and Creepy the Clown.

Available in paperback format from Amazon, from all goodbooksellers and in eBook format.

Hairy TalesA collection of stories for naughty boys and girls

Fans of irreverent humour willlove these short tales for youngerreaders: come and join The UglyMermaid on her fab and amazingundersea quest to discover whyshe’s so hideous, and find out whyVeronica the Velociraptor has suchvery bad teeth!

Find out about the perils ofsmoking in Aubrey’s SmellyAdventure in the Land of Bernards,and learn that it can be cool tolook different in Shipwreck’d

Sarah and the Silly-Looking Pirates! See what happens tohorrible Horatia, the Selfish Slug ... and dare you read thespooktastically creepy I’m a Scary Spider? All this (and muchmore) can be found in Hairy Tales!

Available in paperback format from Amazon, from all goodbooksellers and in eBook format.

books for grown-ups:

Murkmyre (Book One)

Betrayal. Revenge. Insatiablefrogs. Prince Voltron Murkmyrewants two things; revenge, andthe throne of the MurkmyrianEmpire for himself. Enduring aseventy-four year prison sentence- for crimes he didn’t commit -has left him in a bit of a badmood. To achieve his ambitions,he and his dogsbody slave Plipmust evade his psychoticmother’s Empire and manyshadowy forces - and survive aseries of unfortunate crash-

landings on worlds populated by ridiculous races andnonsensical creatures. And then there’s the mystery of theDarkstar of Glümdyyk to unravel, a fabled gemstone ofunimaginable power ...

A silly space fantasy for grown-ups about a dystopiandysfunctional dynasty. With frogs, snails and slugs. Thisrevised, reformatted edition of Murkmyre sets the scene forthe apocalyptic events in Nocturnia - Book Two in TheMurkmyre Saga.

Available in paperback format from Amazon and all goodbooksellers and in eBook format.

Nocturnia (Murkmyre, Book Two)

More betrayal. More revenge.More insatiable frogs, snails andslugs.

Available in paperback formatfrom Amazon and all goodbooksellers and in eBook format.

Slugtopia (Murkmyre, Book Two-And-A-Half )

Even more betrayal. Even morerevenge. Even more insatiablefrogs, snails and slugs.

Available in paperback formatfrom Amazon and all goodbooksellers and in eBook format.

The Complete Murkmyre Saga

A science fiction epic like noother. Welcome to Dystopia’smost dysfunctional dynasty! Forthe very first time, Murkmyre,Nocturnia and Slugtopia havebeen compiled into this singlevolume. Meet the vile andunscrupulous Prince VoltronMurkmyre, and join him on aseries of hapless misadventuresthat will change the course offuture-history. In his relentlessquest to seize the Empire’s

throne, Voltron (and his long-suffering slave, Plip) encounteramorous alien frogs, giant, vomiting slugs, vampiric spiders,lascivious snails and an endless array of vengeful ‘lesser beings’.The perpetual wrath of the three Lady Tyrants (the bonkersSupreme Galactic Empress, the foul-smelling Queen of theSkanxian pirates and Voltron’s deranged sister Pestilencia) isalso a matter of some concern. Oh, and then there’s themystery of the Darkstar of Glümdyyk to unravel, a fabledgemstone of unimaginable power.

The Complete Murkmyre Saga also contains the epic Murkmyretimeline and Planets and People guide, plus many hilariousillustrations of its characters and creatures. Large format andover 470 pages in length, The Complete Murkmyre Saga is aremarkable achievement of grandiose storytelling ... so comeand join the legion of fans of Prince Voltron’s dystopianuniverse! Available in paperback format from Amazon and allgood booksellers.

a note about ebooks:

I’ve recently converted ALL my literary curios to eBookformat, as a variety of separate titles - so now you candownload all my ramblings on to your Kindletron, and you’llnever be free of me.

More details of my eBooks can be found online at Amazon(search CLIFFORD JAMES HAYES on the Amazonwebsite), at other online stores and on my feeble website atwww.hayesdesign.co.uk/books

about the author:

Clifford James Hayes is a burnt-out, fat old woman in hisforties. Most people think him weird, mad and antisocial,which he quite enjoys. He is always ill.

There is more to tell ... he was grudgingly taken-in by mercilessRussian blubber pirates when he was but an infant. Heendured a childhood of abject cruelty, humiliation and slavery,before being forcibly ejected for ‘looking at his foster parents ina funny way’. Remarkably, this rejection was turned intoacademic success - despite further abject cruelty, humiliationand slavery being administered on him by callous, disinterestedtutors, who were ever-keen to administer the birch, whip and‘Uncle Ezekiel’ - their dreaded earwax and toadjuice-poweredtorture device.

Enticed by the alluring colours and shapes of London town,the author eventually found some meagre, slug-infestedaccommodation - before enduring a young adulthood offurther abject cruelty, humiliation and slavery at the hands ofloathsome taskmasters. To improve his lot, he eventuallyescaped - to labour night and day on the punishing chain-gangs in Alabama. A period of introspection followed, duringwhich time he became a distraught, ravaged fixture inVictorian London’s East End. The resultant, inevitablefinancial ruin necessitated he resort to a life of easy virtue. Nowin the fading autumn of his life, he spends his final, pain-wracked days hanging precariously from rocks as he tearfullygazes out toward the southern seas.

If you’re remotely interested in what he does as a ‘day-job’,please go to www.hayesdesign.co.uk, or drop him an email at:mail@hayesdesign.co.uk

Thank-you for buying and reading this book. In doing so,you’ve proved you’re bonkers, but quite scrumptious.