Andy Ward talks to himself.

We stood at the door to the Parsnip Kingdom whilst the banging continued. Bang bang bang it went on the door. Then bang bang bang again, which was shortly followed by another bang bang bang. “I think they’re battering the door down” Said Jonty, helpfully. Then it banged again. Bang bang bang.

“This banging seems to be going on for a long time don’t you think Andy?” Said Alan, confused.

“Hey! You try writing over 1000 words a day without stringing it out a little bit Alan!” I snapped back, as we reached the 96th word.

“You should hide! They’ll be looking for you!” Said the Parsnip King.

“Hide from some mushrooms? How scary can they possibly be?” Said Hank, who, let’s not forget, was the owner of Hank and Alan’s Mushroom and Onion shack. He’d seen more than his fair share of mushrooms in his time, and only three of them had been particularly scary. The ratio of scary mushrooms to non-scary mushrooms was probably only 1:50,000. Hank fancied his chances.

“You don’t understand! Just hide! Quickly!”

“Fine, we’ll hide, but where? Shesnip, where can we hide?” I said.

“If you follow me, there’s a secret passage behind the King’s throne. If you follow that you’ll come to a secret library. Push the third book from the left on the top shelf and another door will open. Go down the slide and take the lift down into the catacombs below the castle. Nobody will ever find you there.” Replied the Shesnip.

“No, wait a second, I’ve got another idea!” Said Jonty.

30 seconds later the Mushrooms broke down the door and began to stream in. They were scary beasts, the kind of beasts that rendered Hank’s ratio completely redundant. Seemingly hundreds of armed guards swarmed into the castle, surrounding the poor parsnips. They were followed in by a much larger, regal mushroom with an imposing presence who smiled at the Parsnip King menacingly. “Ah, Gordon, we meet again. And this time, not in a soup.” He said.

“Bernard…” Said King Parsnip.

“Tell me, where are the beasts who slayed the giant?” Asked the Mushroom King.

“They’ve gone! You’ll never find them now!” Laughed the Parsnip King, defiantly.

“Is that them underneath the tablecloth over there?” Said the Mushroom King, pointing to a shape that looked decidedly like five people covered in a sheet.

“DAMNIT JONTY!” Shouted Carl, as he threw off the sheet that had been hiding us so poorly.

“How the hell was this better than the catacombs?” Said Alan. Jonty shrugged.

“So… these are the people who slew the green giant are they? They look decidedly thicker than I’d expected.” Said King Mushroom. “This one seems to have got grease stains on his trousers.”

“I dropped a chicken drumstick on them.” Said Alan.

“Don’t you have Persil where you’re from… Alan is it?”

We were stunned. How dare he accuse us of not having Persil. We’d all heard of Persil. It could get stains out even if you did a cold wash apparently. We were just ready to hit him with these facts when we realised we were probably stunned about the wrong part of that sentence. We should probably be more concerned with how he knew Alan’s name.

“Of course we’ve got Persil. We’ve got about three different types of Persil actually. There’s regular Persil, Pers-”

“Shut up Alan. How did you know his name?” Said Hank.

“I think I can answer that.” Said a voice from the back of the crowd. He slowly moved through the guards, who parted either side in a fashion that was far too overly dramatic and cliched to actually feature in the movie version of this tale.

“Dennis…” I gasped.

“It’s Donald actually. My name’s in the title.” Said Donald, as he brushed a fly from his waistcoat.

“I know, I was just trying to be condescending.” I said, as I glared at Donald.

“Well it didn’t work.” Said Donald, as he flicked a cricket from his trousers.

“Really? Well then, what’s your surname? Donald…” I thought for a minute. Or five. “… Smells?” I chuckled to myself, knowing that this devastatingly witty remark would surely hit him where it hurt.

“Is that the best you’ve got Andy?” Said Donald, as he slapped a slug from his sock. Donald was covered in a surprising number of animals today.

“Actually it was.” I said, disappointedly. I was stunned that he’d managed to brush off such a cuttingly brutal remark, but that’s the kind of man that Donald was. He deflected criticism like he deflected slugs. With his hands.

“But where have you been?” Asked Carl.

“A good question.” Replied Donald. “You see, the thing is, I’ve been here before Carl. I discovered this world weeks ago, when you were all too busy playing Truth or Dare, before it got boring. Alas, there were problems. I stumbled upon the Mushrooms Carl, and let me tell you, they’re not a good people.”

I knew it. I’d always suspected that mushrooms were rubbish. Now I had actual fact to back it up.

“Anyway, they’d never seen anything like me before. Turns out that not many humans pass through this way. They wanted to kill me there and then, but I convinced them that it wouldn’t be in their interests. I could bring them more people. You see, there are better uses for humans here, the possibilities are endless.”

“What do you mean?” Squeaked Alan, as his less than manly vocal cords reminded us of his previous life.

“You’ll find out soon.” Laughed Donald. “Take them away.”

We were seized by the mushroom guards and put in more shackles. We’d spent a surprising amount of this story shackled up. Heck, we were more shackled than Shaquille O’ Neal doing the Shake ‘n’ Vac with Shakira to the music of Chaka Khan. We were pretty shackled.

“I’ll be back for you Shesnip!” I shouted as we were led away.

“My name’s not Shesnip!” She shouted. It was. That was how history would record her until I actually thought of a name.

“Whatever!” I said, as I made a W with my hands despite being pretty damn shackled.

“Jonty, I can’t help but think that this is your fault somehow.” Said Hank.

“Don’t worry, this is all part of my plan.” Whispered Jonty, as the mushroom people marched us out of the Parsnip Castle as their prisoners. Exactly how this was all part of the plan would remain to be seen, as we unexpectedly head into the 5th part of this seemingly neverending story tomorrow. I should be applying for jobs you know. I’ve got other things to do. Is this my legacy? A story about vegetables?

Perhaps it is, and you know what? I’m ok with that. That seems like a fair way to remember me when I’m gone. ‘Andy Ward: He was hideously useless in the real world, but boy did he know how to write stories about vegetables’. I’ll be back tomorrow.