“All right,” said the count, “they did all that to you.”

“They did more,” said Jack. “They did …”

Count Otto Black leaned close as Jack whispered.

“They never did?” he said. The count’s eyes started from their sockets. The count rushed outside and was sick.

“Nice going,” said Eddie to Jack, whilst the count was outside upchucking. “Nice to see the count getting a bit of his own medicine. Because, after all, he is an evil hypnotist.”

“And worse is yet to come,” said Jack.

“Oh good,” said Eddie. “I’ll just keep my paws over my ears, then.”

“Best to,” said Jack.

Count Otto returned and Jack continued with his tale.

And eventually he was done.

Count Otto Black sat staring at Jack and Jack sat staring at him.

“Are you all right, Jack?” Eddie asked.

Jack said, “Yes, I’m fine.”

“No feelings of empathy towards members of the vegetable kingdom?”

“Fine,” said Jack. “Now I’ve got it all out of my system, I’m fine.”

“Well, thanks very much, Count Otto,” said Eddie. “Count Otto? Can you hear me? Are you all right?”

Jack drove away from Count Otto Black’s Circus Fantastique. He drove away in Bill’s Anders Faircloud. Jack was wearing his trenchcoat and his fedora and his watch.

“Well, I wasn’t expecting that,” said Eddie, who sat once more in the passenger seat. “Who’d have thought it, eh? Your revelations driving Count Otto Black into a vegetative state? Who’d have seen that coming, eh?”

“Anyone with more than sawdust for brains,” said Jack. “It was what is called a telegraphed gag. One that you could really see coming.”

“So we really were abducted by spacemen.” Eddie whistled and kicked his legs about.

“No, we weren’t,” said Jack.

“We weren’t?” said Eddie. “But we were taken up into the light and terrible bottom experiments were performed on us.”

“True,” said Jack. “There’s no denying that.”

“But you’re saying that it wasn’t spacemen?”

Jack shook his head.

“Then what?”

“Chickens?” said Tinto. “You were abducted by chickens?”

It was early evening now and they were in Tinto’s Bar.

“He’s winding you up,” said Eddie. “And before you say it, not in the nice way.”

“I’m not,” said Jack, counting the drinks that he had ordered and trying to reconcile them with the number that Tinto had delivered. “We were abducted by chickens. Big ones in spacesuits. Horrible, they were, with nasty beaks and evil little eyes.”

“And you remember this?” asked Tinto of Eddie.

“No,” said Eddie, tasting beer. “I do not. The count only hypnotised me to prevent me from remembering how he hypnotised Jack.”

“Oh, slow down there,” said Tinto. “Too much information.”

“We’re done with that line now,” said Eddie. “It wasn’t relevant anyway.”

“I just fancied using it,” said Tinto. “I’m a barman. I do have rights, you know.”

“You have the right to remain silent,” said Eddie. “Why not use it now?”

“Because I want to hear about the chickens. Could you give me a bit of a wind, please, Jack, I’m running down.”

Jack leaned over the bar counter and turned the key in Tinto’s back.

“Howdy doody,” said Tinto to Jack. “Can I help you, sir?”

“We were talking about the chickens,” said Jack. “The ones that abducted Eddie and me.”

“Well, yes,” said Tinto. “You told me that. But I’m rather confused. These space chickens, was it them that blasted the cymbal-playing monkeys with the deaths rays?”

Jack looked at Eddie.

And Eddie looked at Jack.

“Nice mutual lookings,” said Tinto, plucking spent glasses from the bar and giving them a polish, “but hardly an answer to my question.”

Jack now took to tasting beer. “I’m rather confused myself,” he said. “We were abducted by chickens, for reasons unknown.”

“They’d have their reasons,” said Tinto. “They probably stuck implants up your bum.”

“They stick those up your nose,” said Jack.

“Nose, bum, it’s all the same to me. Bits of body never do what they’re supposed to anyway. Take that sailor doll over there.” Tinto pointed and Jack did lookings across. “Obviously built upside down,” said Tinto.

“He looks the right way up to me,” said Jack.

“Then how come his nose runs and his feet smell?”

“We should have seen that one coming,” said Eddie.

“But it wasn’t the chickens, was it?” said Jack to Eddie. “We heard who did the murderings – it was those doppelgangers of us.”

“Probably in league with the chickens,” said Tinto, and he tittered.

“Did you just titter?” asked Eddie.

“There’s a screw loose in my voice box,” said Tinto. “Are you going to pay for these drinks or engage me in further conversation in the hope that I’ll forget to ask you for the money?”

“It’s always served me well in the past,” said Eddie.

“Well, not tonight,” said Tinto. “Pay up. Twenty-five beers and that’s …” And Tinto named the sum in question and that sum in question was correct.

“How did you work that out?” asked Eddie.

“Aha!” went Tinto, and he touched his printed nose. “Because I have a pocket calculator.”

“So where do you keep it? You don’t have any pockets.”

“Who said that?” asked Tinto.

“I did,” said Eddie.

“Well, that just shows you how smart you are,” said Tinto. “I don’t need a pocket to own a pocket calculator, because a pocket calculator is a calculator in the shape of a pocket. I thought everyone knew that.”

“Actually, I didn’t,” said Jack. “Might we have a look at this calculating pocket?”

“Certainly,” said Tinto, and he rootled beneath the bar counter and brought out something that resembled a bag made out of shiny fabric. “Wallah,” went Tinto.

“Wallah?” went Eddie.

“Wallah,” went Tinto. “That’s the calculating pocket’s name.”

“Wallah?” went Jack.

“Yes?” said Wallah. “How can I help you?”

Jack looked at Eddie.

And Eddie once more looked upon Jack.

“And there was me thinking that I’d seen everything,” said Jack, “what with the space chickens and all. Where did you get this calculating pocket, Tinto?”

“I do have a name,” said the calculating pocket.

“Excuse me,” said Jack.

“Won her in a competition,” said Tinto. “You have to work out the number of gobstoppers in a bigjar.”

“And you got that right?” asked Eddie.

“Well, I had a little help,” said Tinto. “I asked to meet the prize first, before I bought a ticket to enter the competition, and I asked her to work it out.”

“That’s called cheating,” said Eddie.

“And your point is?” Tinto asked.

“No point at all,” said Eddie. “But it was dishonest.”

“Possibly so,” said Tinto, “but then so is engaging a barman in conversation in the hope that he will forget to charge you for your drinks.”

“You can put a ‘Hm’ in about now if you wish, Jack,” said Eddie.

“Hm,” Jack put in.

“So pay up, or you’re barred,” said Tinto.

Eddie sighed, pawed his way into a trenchcoat pocket, wormed out a wallet and set it down upon the bar top. “Help yourself,” he said.

Jack viewed the wallet and Jack viewed Eddie.

Tinto helped himself to money and wheeled himself off to the till.

“Where did that come from?” Jack asked.

“Count Otto’s pocket,” said Eddie.

“You stole his wallet?”

“Well, he won’t be needing it now, will he? He’ll be needing heavy sedation and a straitjacket.”

“I’m sure there’s some kind of justice or moral in that,” said Jack, “but for the life of me I can’t think what it might be.”

“I’m sure there must be somewhere,” said Eddie, “if you think very hard about it. Same again?”

“I haven’t finished these yet.”

“Then drink up, it’s Count Otto’s round once more.”