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“Time’s up!”
“No!” 2D wailed, “2 secs, I’m nearly done.”
“You heard her, dimwit.” Murdoc growled, “fingers down.”
“I wouldn’t actually mind a little extra time either.” Russel called.
“Hell’s bell’s you two, it’s two circles and an oval, no need to channel Mark Speight for it.”
Noodle half peered around the bonnet where 2D, and Russel’s left arm, were in viewpoint. “Are you two still going?”
“Yep.”
“Maybe.”
“STOP!”
They’d found the invitingly filthy van a few roads from home. It was caked from top to bottom in dust and grime.
The rules were established quickly. Four of them, four sides, one minute each.
Noodle handled the front, Russel the back, and 2D and Murdoc on either side.
2D and Russel yielded at Noodle’s command, and the four each took a step back from their respective art.
“Ok,” Noodle started, “now how are we gonna do this.”
“Not to fret,” Murdoc replied with a bored sense of grandeur, “I’ve thought of it as always. You lot shut your eyes and come round to this side, then we go around, whoever’s turn it is leading the way to make sure dents doesn’t get himself run over.”
“Or anyone.” 2D’s voice came from the other side of the van.
“That actually makes sense.” Russel nodded.
“I’m far more than a ruggedly pretty face, y’know.”
“Anyone could get run over.” 2D mumbled petulantly.
Noodle clapped once to signal. “Ok, everyone’s eyes shut?”
With three pairs of eyes closed, Noodle, 2D and Russel began manoeuvring around to Murdoc’s side.
“Ah!” 2D yelped.
“Mind the step.” Murdoc belatedly warned.
“Bollocks!”
“And the car.”
Safely to Murdoc, the trio positioned themselves as best they could to get the best view, then opened their eyes.
2D immediately broke into snorts and giggles, while Noodle’s eyebrows narrowed in confusion and Russel looked merely disappointed.
‘Overpriced Candy’ was written into the dirt, complete with a fancy arrow pointing towards the back of the van.
“What the hell.” Russel exhaled, not surprised enough to be outraged.
“Genius, I know. But we'll see all the other drab attempts, just out of courtesy.”
“Doesn’t it usually say ‘free’?” Noodle checked, one eyebrow slowly raising.
“Not in this economy.” Murdoc scoffed, “I thought matey boy might like a fancier clientele than your usual van driver, so I took the classic formula and spruced it up a little.”
2D was almost choking on his own laughs as he coughed out, “That’s really funny.”
Murdoc rolled his eyes, “All right, D, don’t make it about you.”
“I’ll go next, hold on.” Russel announced and, taking a second to check eyes were closed, herded them like a sheepdog towards the back of the van.
All seemed surprised by the wall of text that greeted them upon their eyes opening.
A myriad of songs and artists, of every genre and from all over the world. Diana Ross, KDB, Kenny Burrell, Funkadelic, The Specials and more, barely a square inch of the doors uncovered with a song or artist Russel had mentioned a reverence for. A couple had been circled, others underlined.
“Russ, did you make a playlist?” Noodle asked.
“A hell of a playlist. Now you can see why it took me a minute.”
“No one could read all that at one red light.” 2D complained.
“Never mind look them all up.” Noodle agreed.
“You ain’t ever heard of traffic jams? I can guarantee it’ll be better than the crap playing in the car of whoever’s stuck looking at this thing.”
“Even your vandalism is a bore.” Murdoc sighed.
“My go!” 2D chirped, “Watch the step, it’s proper dangerous.”
“No it isn’t.” Murdoc said as he stepped past 2D and up onto the pavement, the closed eyes meaning he was oblivious to the backwards V 2D was pointing his way.
As the trio opened their eyes to 2D’s attempt, all three reread it a couple times over, Noodle quietly whispering it out-loud.
‘id be a ferrari if i wasn’t carring so much!!’
“Smashed it, ay?” 2D bragged.
“You spelled carrying wrong.” Murdoc pointed out joylessly.
“Or caring.” Noodle murmured.
“Yeah, I know,” 2D remarked, folding his arms with a pout, “couldn’t exactly start again though, could I?”
Noodle gave it one last read-through, then screwed her face up at him, “I’m not sure I get it.”
“I do.”
The three turned to Russel, who was still reading the message over and over. He took a little step closer, examining it like a scholar unearthing some ancient text.
“He’s talking about the potential each of us have, our dreams vs the reality we’re forced to live. Are we caring? Or are we carrying?”
“Sheesh, keep it light.” Murdoc muttered.
“We’re stuck between the two,” Russel continued, “good intensions teetering on the verge of shouldering too much at all times. When really, we’d all be Ferrari’s if we could.”
“What he said.” 2D agreed. “Plus it’s a right laugh to imagine a Transit wanting to be a Ferrari.”
Murdoc blinked, and turned to Noodle.
“Right, finishing with you girlie. Praying to Satan you didn’t pen some soliloquy about the Falklands War.”
“No I drew a knob.”
“Say again?” Russel said, snapping out of his trance.
Noodle shrugged. “I thought we were all drawing knobs, so I drew a knob.”
They wandered to the front, forgetting to close their eyes for it.
Sure enough, a large phallus sat inscribed on the bonnet of the van.
“Imagine getting hit by that.” 2D said, so solemnly that he was no doubt imagining it vividly.
Murdoc shook his head, and regarded Noodle with a few tuts.
“You do know how to take the civility out of a situation, don’t you?”
“Aight remember, no voting for yourself.” Russel told the group, but looked only at Murdoc, who gestured at Russel to get on with it. “Noodle.”
Murdoc’s hand raised.
“You just slagged it off!” She cried at him.
“I slagged you off,” he corrected, “the calligraphy was faultless.”
“Any votes for Murdoc?” Russel prompted, and 2D’s hand shot up, giggling once more at the mere memory.
“It’s funny cuz, like-”
“We all know the joke,” Noodle cut in, “It’s this country’s favourite joke for some reason.”
“Yours truly?” Russel continued.
Noodle raised her hand. “Not for the idea necessarily, but those were some quality picks.”
“And D’s got my vote. One vote each.”
“Fabulous. What a pointless exercise.” Murdoc groaned, inspecting the grime that had accumulated on his finger for nothing.
A clearing of the throat caught their attention, and the four turned to see a middle-aged man in a high-vis jacket. He was holding a set of keys and looked annoyed.
“Wanna be the decider?” 2D asked him.
“No, I wanna get back in my bloody van!”
The band looked at each other, collectively grumbled at the inconclusiveness of their competition, and moved on.