Rani Ricked Visits Mama-Whets Town

Two weeks had passed and Rani Ricked, as he preferred to call himself, was stuck. He had however added some gadgets to his workshop in the time since he’d received the letter addressed to his true self. The gadget that had taken most of his time was also the most complex. In short it was able to detect the faintest odour traces providing a detailed description of their chemical composites. It had been frustrating work but he’d worked out that the letter did contain some type of exotic female perfume. True, it could have been purchased in any city anywhere in the world. The letter’s postmark said New York, but he knew that the post mark could have been faked. What had really got him excited was that he had also traced a rarer scent. One usually associated with rare flowers that only grow at high altitude in the proximity of natural water courses. If indeed it was New York then the area directly north would fit the bill. But he wanted to be sure before jumping to any conclusions.

He rubbed his brow and decided he needed a break. He poured himself a perfectly cold beer and sat down to read the local rag. The mayor had a new red crested tie, and there was a photo to prove it. Neighbourhood Watch reported that a motorbike had gone missing from the owner’s garage, and that the local forensic teams were bemoaning a spate of robberies. He shook his head, made a note to increase security on his workshop and concluded he needed to get away for a couple of days. After all, what was the point of being retired if one couldn’t follow one’s whims? Ten minutes after powering up Bunty, his trusted server, he had booked a weekend at his favoured hotel.

He arrived in the somewhat remote place called Mama-Whets Town. He wondered again why it had been named as such and promised to find out. He made his way straight to the bar and ordered a cold one. The barman knew him well and ensured the beverage was exactly four degrees Celsius. After passing some small talk he asked about the name. Legend had it that many moons ago the once small hamlet had been occupied by a band of Australian soldiers. The only problem being that the hamlet had had no drinking establishment. The aussies, as was their want, were dying of thirst and had written home to their mothers to send them drink. Their mothers duly obliged and sent crates of the stuff. So much arrived over the following weeks that the local post office and church hall had been filled with cans of amber nectar. Such was the effect on the town it’s name had been changed from Hets Town to Mama-Whets Town. There was even a local holiday to mark the event, consisting of, and I kid you not, an emu race. Rani thanked the barman for the explanation and sat by the log fire.

Whilst supping his third beer of the evening a thought occurred to him which almost made him jump out of his chair and ride his Harley back home. But he’d promised himself that he would visit the local art gallery in the morning, so he focussed on slowing his ageing heart using the techniques taught by his cardiologist. An hour later he was tucked in bed dreaming of postmen, envelopes and mysteriously, ducks.

The local art gallery was as extraordinary as it was small. The tiny entrance was festooned with all manner of artistic endeavours, so much so that one could only just make out the proprietor’s name, “Ed Blubber”. It was well known within the locality that Ed was an empathetic old soul, and one who found it impossible to turn down requests to show work.

As Rani walked through the pygmy sized door he entered a world of exquisite delight. It defied the imagination how so much fantastic work could adorn the walls of such a small place. Each section of wall, ceiling or even floor were themed and as Rani passed the “Out of the Blue” section he chuckled as he remember being lost here for days. Even now he could see individuals lost in awe staring at different works.

The cout d’état however was the local collection entitled “Vectored”. The works contained what could only be described as a psychedelic riot of colours. The featured piece was magnificent and entitled “A Balaclava’s Rotted Regent Worm Mutt”. Whilst digesting the masterful collusion of primary colours he thought the name was an apt one if rather long. He figured whomever could work that one out would purchase a piece of his art for sure.

He left blinking in the bright sun light with a feeling of deep contentment. The visit had not only provided a feast for his eyes, a warmth to his heart, but had provided him with one or two leads too. He knew a break would pay dividends, and he’d struck gold..

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Tags:

mama, ranu, ricked, town, vector and whets