Return of the Nibbles: Duke & Michel, #3

By Elias Zapple

Michel is down but not out. His family may have been drowned by the evil Master and Michel wants revenge in the bloodiest of ways! Meanwhile, something weird, very weird has happened to Duke. And where are Duke's nibbles? An ultimate showdown awaits in the battle to end all battles.
 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Heads or Tales Press
• Release date: Jun 27, 2017
• ISBN: 9781386160243

Elias Zapple

Elias Zapple was not born in 1922, as some would have you believe. His date of birth is not really relevant anyway. What is relevant is that he arose out of a tulip that was growing in some old granny's garden in Camberwell. How he got to be in a tulip is not really clear, nor is it clear how he got out of the tulip, and years later wrote the smash hit musical, 'Love, be a Stranger', which was an international flop. After that success, he went on to work as a 19th century Victorian chimney sweep, when he was inspired to write the acclaimed series of books entitled 'Duke & Michel'. It is believed the fumes from the chimneys did so much damage to Elias, that it was a miracle he ever ate a cupcake again.  Later, he travelled back in time to the present, and went on a series of trips to many foreign and distant lands. During these travels, Elias met and listened to many interesting people, choosing to ignore all of them. He did, however, learn a couple of things: i) the earth is flat; and ii) you should never eat a banana when it's not ripe. Many questions are often asked by his adoring public. Are you human? How many chimpanzees can fit inside a fridge? What is that thing growing on the side of your head? To which Mr Zapple has always smiled, turned away and swum off into the sunset; having only once been bitten by an unfriendly shark. Elias Zapple continues to work towards the unification of Korea, and writing children's stories that parents will spend huge sums of money on. He wishes you all to know that every penny made from the books will go straight into his bank account, which he will then spend on a lavish, new tent.

Book preview

DUKE & MICHEL:

RETURN OF THE NIBBLES

Book Three

By

Elias Zapple

Copyright

© Elias Zapple, 2015

Cover illustrated by Elliott Beavan

Interior illustrated by Reimarie Cabalu

Disclaimer

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

Dedication

For

Freddie Rhinoceros

&

Cecil the Chickadee

&

Pippa Manatee

Contents

Copyright

Disclaimer

Dedication

One - Fields of Gold

Two - Lost

Three - Perspective

Four - Water

Five - Sand Dunes

Six - The Sunflower

Seven - The Handbook

Eight - Paradise Island

Nine - The Witch of Osmoloc

Ten - Ring of Fire

Eleven - Fields of Fire

Twelve - Country Dog – Premium Nibbles

Thirteen - War

Fourteen - Rest

Fifteen - Time Out

Sixteen - Chasing the Scent

Seventeen - Romain

Eighteen - Start the Dance

Nineteen - Face-Off

Twenty - The End?

Who is Elias Zapple?

Also by Elias Zapple

A Request from Elias Zapple

One

Fields of Gold

The sky was a bright baby blue and the sun beamed down, trying to scorch the earth. Endless fields of golden wheat swayed in the gentlest of breezes. The fields of wheat stretched on for mile after mile, over hills and across the land. The odd Umbrella thorn tree dotted the landscape. A black crow flew on overhead and then perched on a branch of the umbrella tree. It was eyeing something.

Lying down in amongst the wheat was Michel. His eyes closed and his face that was partly covered in black dirt was also a crispy, sunburnt red. His longish black hair had bits of soil and other things in it and his Death’s Harvest T-shirt had seen better days as it was ripped and ragged. It was now the perfect metal T-shirt.

Michel began to stir his eyes blinking open and he groaned then stretched his arms. What had happened? His vision was blurry and he was hot, very hot - his mouth was as dry as burnt toast. Where was he? He touched his head then looked at his right arm, there was no mark. Michel rubbed his face. It was a bit painful because of the sunburn.

Hello? a voice called out.

That sounded like Duke. Michel’s body was aching but he managed to sit up and then looked around. All he could see was wheat.

Hello?

Michel leaned to one side then got up to one foot then both. Still, all he could see was wheat. Duke? Michel’s voice was so dry and weak that it was raspy. He scanned the area. At the lower end of the hill was an Umbrella thorn tree. He needed

to get out of the sun. Wearing a black tee was making it even more super hot and he was now sweating buckets. The sun, like the Master, was unforgiving to say the least.

He made his way through the wheat field and reached the shady Umbrella thorn tree and then collapsed as the voice called out again. He recounted what had happened. He’d gotten home after rescuing his cousin from the strange universe with the corridor then found, the following day, that his parents, uncle and cousin were missing. He’d learnt that the Master – a seriously deranged school headmaster - had taken them forcing Michel to return to the mysterious corridor and visit Duke, the talking Basset Hound. All Duke’s favourite food had been taken and so they both went to find his family and Duke’s Country Dog – Premium Nibbles. They had found his family after being puppets in a game between King Tingaling and the Master and then…

Michel looked at his arm again. There was no mark but the Master had injected him with some weird-looking black goo just after he’d seen his mum, dad and uncle in a glass tank filled with water. What had happened next?

Mum! Dad! Michel’s voice was too weak. Were they dead? What could have happened?

Hello?

Where was Duke? Michel’s eyes drew to a close and he fell into a deep, deep sleep.

Two

Lost

Scruffy? the voice echoed.

Michel coughed out a worm then spat… Eww. He pulled himself over to the trunk of the umbrella tree and sat against it.

Michel?

Michel had that empty feeling you get when you’re homesick. It was painful so he clutched at his stomach. Michel yawned then stared around him at the fields of wheat, the bright blue sky – it was bright blue but it was dark to him. It had might as well be night. He didn’t know what to do and even if he did he didn’t know if he could. Were his parents alive? Something was in his throat, tears welled in his eyes and the tears soon streamed down his face. He brought his knees up and held himself tight.

I say, Michel cease your sobbing and try to find me.

Michel couldn’t stop and he wasn’t going to stop. His nose started to run and he wiped his nose onto his skinny black jeans.

Disgusting!

Michel stared at the wheat before him as it swayed from side to side making a rustling sound. He remembered going to a windmill with his mum and dad and watching as they ground up the wheat grain to turn it into flour then watched as they made bread. It was the freshest, yummiest bread he’d ever had and the smell… the smell of warm bread. They’d bought a couple of small loaves and eaten them with cheddar cheese in the car on their way back home. Dad’s lap and his seat were covered in crumbs.

Michel! Answer me at once or else I shall… Hmm well, I don’t seem to have the mouth to bite you or do any other serious damage. However, with my vastly superior intelligence I’m sure to think of something that’ll make you regret ignoring me.

It was lucky Michel had found this shade. He’d never felt the sun so strong as this before. He and his parents had been to Seville in the south of Spain once and it had been super hot there. It was around 44˚ Celsius or something and all they did all day was drink water, going from cafe to cafe. He was pretty sure that dad lost a few pounds, which mum was like really happy about. She even suggested moving to Seville to keep dad in shape. Seville. A little restaurant they went to every night, had the best tapas - this food that was served on small plates. So awesome but what was funny was that the waiters were so rude all the time. It made it even better though as they kept returning not to just enjoy the food but to enjoy watching the rude waiters insult them and the other customers. They seemed to really hate their jobs.

I detest being ignored. This is just splendid. The only person, a feeble one at that, I can speak with will not respond or has lost the ability to vocalise and to top it all off my physical body has gone missing – I am literally having an out of body experience. My poor Basset Hound body could be anywhere, alone, dirty, and hungry in need of some pampering. I’m just a spirit – perhaps I’ll be like this forever. Who’ll feed my stomach? My body, where are you?

Michel slumped down to the ground again and toyed with the soil that was around the tree. It was the darkest soil he’d seen, it looked like ground coffee. He spotted the struggling worm and played with it with his finger then held it up before

dropping it to the ground. His dad used to enjoy fishing. He kept making Michel tag along but Michel found it totally boring. Dad said it was a good time to think about things – which was true as it made Michel think about skateboarding, his RC car, his games console and pretty much everything else he could’ve been doing besides fishing with his dad. A tear crept out. He should’ve enjoyed those moments with his dad some more. Why had he been so selfish? Or like when his mum took him shopping for clothes. All Michel could do was whine and complain and say everything was lame. Still at least that orphanage in Romania had gotten some decent clothes. Mum.

How about your germ-ridden cousin, Romain? He was not in the tank, more’s the pity. He could be anywhere on his own in desperate need of a tissue to wipe his nose. Just thinking about his nose gives me the heebie-jeebies. I thought human beings had a turning off device for any leakages. Seems as though your filthy cousin was not given one, maybe we should take him to the Mechanics Planet and get him repaired. He should never go around with that nose of his in its current state. Who knows the infectious diseases he carries. Michel? Why aren’t you answering?

What was Michel going to do now? Would he go to an orphanage? Foster parents? But then for the people back home how would they understand that his parents and uncle had just completely disappeared. Maybe he’d be sent off to live with his grandma in France. He hoped he could remain in London, that’s where his mates were and where he knew. Skateboarding in the South Bank, going to watch Fulham play… His grandma lived in a tiny village in France where there were hardly any kids about. His dad’s mum was already dead and his dad’s dad hadn’t spoken to Michel’s dad in years. He probably would end up living in France then. Michel exhaled a deep breath. In the beginning he’d just lost his cousin, now he’d lost his entire family. His mum looking at him one last time…

It’s quite strange all this. I feel almost normal, as if my fabulous body and mind are one and yet I feel like I’m floating. By Jove, I’ve never felt lighter!

Parents are not meant to die… not before their kids! How could they let this happen? Even he managed to take on the Master the first time round, how couldn’t his dad, mum and uncle? Why did they give in so easily? How could they leave him?

Michel clawed at the earth and tossed it away. Tears came rushing down and he thumped the trunk of the tree.

They’re meant to be here for me!

Scruffy? I say, one must always remain calm and keep that stiff upper lip I’ve heard so much about. I’m fairly certain I have developed such a lip. From years of eating grilled lamb, no doubt.

Michel rubbed his eyes and stared at nothing, a vacant look in his eyes.

You haven’t died, have you? But then maybe we’re both dead already. Would indeed explain a lot.

Michel turned onto his back and slapped his face, then again and again and again until his face was even redder that it looked like he’d smeared tomato ketchup all over it. He was looking quite the mess.

Michel, you must get a hold of yourself. Let’s talk about everything then maybe it won’t seem so bad.

Michel got up, looked at the branches of the tree. He tried to scale the tree slipped and fell down. He kicked the tree as if it was a rugby ball then flung himself to the ground. He