It was the sound of gunfire that first woke Ned from his slumber. As he opened his eyes, the light was blinding. As things came into focus, he began to realise the worst possible thing had happened. He had, at some point in his drunken daze, got confused and instead of stumbling to his flat, he had ended up at his father’s house.

For a normal person, this would not be a massive problem, other than the humiliation of possible vomit in their parent’s bathroom. For Ned, there were few things worse than spending time with his video game obsessed hippy father. He looked at the ceiling and recognised the orange blotchy paint job of his dad’s living room. He turned and sat up from the sofa.

A figure looked back at him from the chair that faced the telly. “Morning lad, want to join me? The bloody aliens have landed now!” His father jerked his head at a controller on the floor next to him and then gestured at the telly with his controller laden hands. The television displayed the rather graphic images of an interstellar war, or something.

“Had a good night, did you, son?”

It was less than endearing how this question was asked, with no eyes being removed from the screen.

“Yeah, think so. Can’t really remember.” Ned began to have bizarre flashbacks to the events of the journey home. He had developed quite a tolerance for booze and usually just faked being drunk, but the previous night had taken a toll. Though, he had some concerning partial memories floating around that didn’t quite fit together the bits he could remember properly. Ned shrugged them off.

“One thing, son, why are you covered in blue paint?”

Ned stood up quickly and looked into the mirror. He was entirely blue.

“Err, yeah, I think it was to make me look more like a frog.”

The telly made a ‘boop’ noise as his father paused the game. He peered around from his large sofa chair and said, “Bloody hell, son, you must have had a good night… frogs are green.”

Ned turned to face his father and indignantly said, “Only the ones from earth!” He strode away into the other room, looking for a washcloth. The sounds of war resumed.

Half an hour of scrubbing and one cup of extra strong hangover-curing coffee later, Ned braved the living room again. He was now a washed-out blue colour with an almost neon blue jacket, a dirty extra-blue tee shirt and less than red camouflaged trousers. His hair, somehow, still looking pretty good though.

“It’s been great, dad. I’m going.”

His father leaned towards him without taking his eyes from the screen again. “Take the other one with you as well, will you, son? I think he’s going to upset Missus Pearson next door.”

Ned looked around. He couldn’t see anyone else.

“What are you on-about, dad?”

“He’s in the front garden.”


Upon opening the door, Ned was greeted by a man walking his dog and looking quite confused at what could only be described as a man on a cross.

The sight took a few moments to sink in. Monday had been stuck to a lamppost with some kind of gorilla tape, a pool cue strapped across his arms to give the impression of a religious icon. He was dressed in what looked like robes, fashioned from a ‘Knight Rider’ bed cover.

Ned raised an eyebrow as he wandered across the road to get a better view. He took a quick snap with his phone before shouting up to the sleeping Jesus impersonator, “Monday! What are you doing?”

It took a few moments for Monday to realise what was happening.

“Shit!” he squealed. “I’m really high up, dude!” he yelled in a panic.

Ned couldn’t help but smile. “No shit. What are you doing? Trying to offend every Catholic in Warhill, are you?” called Ned.

Monday began to struggle and grasp at the tape holding him in place with the ends of his fingers. “No” he yelled back. “Wankers Ned! Street wankers got me! Little fuckers with tiny arms and big heads!” Ned laughed so hard that he had to sit down at the side of the road.

“Dude, where the fuck did they get the ‘Knight Rider’ thing from?”

Monday was slowly wriggling one arm free from the cue. “It’s mine. They knocked on my door and asked my mum for it!”

Ned puzzled over this for a few minutes before he finally had to ask. “Your mum endorses this kind of behaviour, does she?”

“Not really. But she didn’t expect them to dress me like Jesus and tape me to a lamppost, did she?” Monday replied angrily.

“Why not?” asked Ned, as if it was an obvious response.

“Because the street wankers that got me had help! Lenny, Lenny helped them!”

Ned laughed again, so hard that his hangover gave him a well-deserved shot of pain as punishment. “Your mum’s boyfriend taped you to a lamppost!”

Monday was not as amused.

“Where’s Viking, anyway?” called Ned.

“He said something about asking ‘The-one-and-only’ about the blue space frogs. Next thing I know, here I am.”

Ned took another few photos with his phone and emailed them to everyone he knew. “Okay, thanks man, I’ll go find him.”

With that said, Ned wandered down the road towards the building site that ‘The-one-and-only’ called home.

“Dude? You gotta cut me down… Dude… Seriously?”

Chapter 3