The Leader, Aibreán 1989

11 TheAttackOfTheGiantLasagne~>~_ - bM "O'H V · ~ -· y artm ara ¥~ 6-,;p ~ -::::- ~ _ PART FOUR. THE BAITLE OF FINDIAY STUART'S CARAVAN tl~~, 1 ~~ ~ ~~'\~ {-J' . ,, ·-~.~~e:~~ It wasn't looking too good. It looked pretty bloody grim. Quiet, unpretentious Dunfanaghy had been beset by some of the strangest and most disturbing events ever to have occurred upon the face of the planet. A great clump of the delicate Dalradian plate which formed the very bedrock of County Donegal had suddenly metamorphisised into a horrific man-eating lasagne. Devastating every– thing in its path, the lasagne had wreaked a sav– age toll on life and property. At the same time an unsuspecting band of aliens, descended from ancient Scottish warriors, had landed upon near– by Horn Head (a jutting peninsula which formed one side of Sheephaven bay, on the shores of which lay Dunfanaghy.) Stranded until such times as they could lo– cate supplies of lithium to fuel the redundant en– gines of their craft "The Bonny Albatross", they had kidnapped a gifted young geologist, Steve Jolly, who they hoped could lead them to the precious element. "Well, there's your lithium chaps," said Steve Jolly matter-of-factly. "Whit!, "spat Captain Henry Borthwick, Commander of the Bonny Al– batross. "That doesnae look like bloody lithium tae me." "I'm afraid that the elements you seek Captain, is currently flowing through the veins of that glutinous mound of sickly looking lasagne over there. I'm also afraid that you may find it dif– ficult to extract." "By Christ, this is a bit of a bloody pickle." "If you have the ability to tackle that beast then the fate of Donegal could lie in your hands." "Turtles Deary?" asked detective Chief Superintendent Ernie O'Reilly. "Yes sir. A few fishermen have reported the presence of an unusually large amount of giant turtles approaching the bay." 'Hope you don't mind. Mum_;._/ swapped her.' "Anything else Deary?" "Well constable Kelly has reported that a bunch of hippys dressed in kilts and babbling on about being from another galaxy have insisted on seeing you..." "What next Deary? What bloody next." Amy was two hundred years old, measured seven feet from head to flipper, weighed twenty five stones and had a mission. Yes sir, she had the greatest mission in turtle his– tory. Since turtles first evolved they had been swimming up the warm waters of the tropical gulf stream which snake up from South America to Donegal. The reason for this trip lay in the star– tling fact that contained within the unusual make– up of the rock which formed the sea bed under Sheephaven Bay was a very special and unique mixture of crystalswhich when consumed by tur– tles afforded them the ability to prolong their li– fespans to amazing degrees. An even more startling fact is that if you or me had tasted his rock we would have sworn we were eating la– sagne. Now that self same rock had for some in– explicable reason come to life in the form of a la- sagne and moved out of the water to wreak havoc above. This was fine for the lasagne but spelt the end for turtles. If some way were not found to restore this food then turtle-kind would face rapid extinction. The burden of responsi– bility for this task had fallen into the capable flip– pers of Queen Amy Turtle who had been despatched to Donegal with a vast turtle army to see what could be done. The wind blew like never before. It blew with a vengeance, churning the waters of the bay into a mad frenzy of white horses. In his small ca– ravan on the edge of Killehoe beach, close by Dunfanaghy, old Findlay Stuart was huddled he was mad. Others, a little more charitably, thought him merely eccentric. Findlay led a her– mit-like existence, keeping himself to himself and immersing himself in his only true live; the study of the U.F.0. phenomena. His tiny caravan was a monument to everyone, nutter or not, who had ever claimed a close encounter of any kind. It was this earnest interest which lead people generally to shun him, as people will when con– fronted with anyone whose interests are at a slight tangent to the norm. But Findlay was a happy man. He had become especially happy only four hours ago when a knock had come to his delapidated front door. It had been Capt. Henry Borthwick of the intergalactic patrol ship "The Bonny Albatross" who, accompanied by D.C.S. O'Reilly, had come to set up operations h.p. in Findlay's caravan from where, as the chief put it, they were going "to orchestrate the most important battle ever to be fought on Irish soil." "Another hot one?," asked Findlay. "Aye, don't mind if I do." replied capt. Borthwick eagerly. "Cloves and lemon?" "Aye." "And yourself, Chief O'Reilly?" "O.K. I'll chance another. It's a cold day after all." "Fine then boys." Outside the caravan Steve Jolley stood studying the retching form of the giant lasagne which was barely discernible in the gathering gloom at the far side of the beach. He thought over the plan which had been hatched. The chief's men were to attack on one flank whilst the captains took the other, thus completing a sort of "pincer movement", which the chief had read worked well at the battle of Trafalgar.. over a steaming mug of hot whiskey. Some said .(TO BE CONCLUDED NEXT MONTH). lt are regu· { \ risb adu s f scboo\- • 30 p.c. o nd 30 p.c. o tching men in the \ar smokers s~oke· O Women are ca • \ea"ers now smoking \eague. dft" 'Don't shout so loud. Mum, you II wake che baby-sitter. ' ( ) SAMSPUDZ I .il risb $>nack jfoobs 1Ltb. THE SL/EVE FOYSHOWBAND IN THE EARLY60's oeanta I nGaoth Oobha1r