Episode 22 - Let the Battle Commence

Brandon hurried over to the park where the rest of the Gore Hell Vandals were waiting for him. The stage was set up and a trickle of people were beginning to arrive - mostly those with no lives. Brandon sneered at them.

At the other side of the park he could see Mary Plastic, his mum Wendy and his annoying Auntie Joss doing vocal exercises for Uterus's Hot Flush number. What a load of losers. They had nothing as good as the Vandal's Anarchy in Plastic St, Up Yours with Plastic Bits On and the haunting I've Got a Piece of Plastic for a Heart, Have You?.

His mum caught sight of him. Before he could escape she came hurrying over. "Mary says you tried to push her off the abyss, darling!"

"Didn't," Brandon mumbled.

"Could you please stop trying to kill people, just for today?" Wendy tried to take her son's arm but he shook her off. "I do worry about you, darling, living with Granny in her den of evil. And have you seen Grandad recently? I hear he's wandering about claiming to have had a religious experience!"

"You mean he's alive?"

"Of course he is! Oh Brandon, you didn't, did you?"

"Why do you always blame me!" Brandon burst out. "Whenever someone gets killed it's always my fault!"

Suddenly there was a screech of brakes and a red sports car drew up. Out stepped a mysterious figure in full racing driver gear. He looked Wendy up and down approvingly, or at least his helmet turned in her direction.

"Hi, babe!"

"Simon Vinyl!" Wendy gasped, collapsing into Brandon's arms.

"That's right, you menopausal minx! I hear there's a music contest going on round here. Why don't you show me what you've got, and maybe I'll show you fame and fortune!"

Brandon dropped Wendy and ran to his drum kit. "'Quick, play Plastic Melts in Hell!" he yelled to the rest of the band. "One, two, three, four!"

Episode 20 - Going for Gold

Granny Gold pushed her pointed yellow glasses up her nose and took a sip from the cup of tea that was permanently stuck to her hand. Where was Brandon? And why hadn't she heard the bloodcurdling screams that usually followed a fatal disaster? Surely by now the whole Plastic family should be at the bottom of the abyss in a horrible heap, preferably a two-dimensional one.

She peered out of the schoolroom window and a grimace spread across her face as she saw Mary Plastic hurrying up the road, closely followed by Brandon. Behind them strode Ray Plastic and Richard. They were deep in conversation.

Furiously Grany Gold rapped on the window and Brandon looked up. His face filled with fear but he hurried towards her. She ushered him in quickly and closed the door.

"I am extremely disappointed in you, Brandon! In fact, I hesitate to call you my grandson. Can you not commit a simple mass murder when I ask you?"

Brandon looked back sulkily. "Dad turned up. He told Grandad not to come back. He said you were evil."

"Mmm..." Granny Gold stroked her whiskered chin. "He's cleverer than I thought." She grabbed Brandon by the collar. "But you are stupid! What's that brain of yours filled with?"

"Plastic?" Brandon choked.

"I've trained you to be one of the nastiest, most villainous children Plastic St has ever had. What a waste of time and energy. Hours of lesson plans - for nothing." Granny Gold grabbed a thick lever-arch file titled 'How to be Horrid' and threw it on the floor. Worksheets and diagrams scattered everywhere. She would never get to draw up Lesson 149: First Steps to Fraud now.

"I'm sorry, Granny," Brandon mumbled.

"Sorry?" Granny screamed. "Sorry! Saying sorry isn't in the manual, is it? Apologising isn't in your curriculum! Get out of my sight."

Brandon took a step backwards.

"My sight isn't that bad!"

Brandon ran out of the door.

"Go forth and commit evil!" Granny Gold yelled after him.

"I'm going to the Battle of the Bands!" Brandon called back, still running in case she tried to stop him.

Granny Gold pursed her lips as she watched her grandson disappear. The Battle of the Bands, eh? A big deal. Probably the biggest event in Plastic St. Everyone would be there.

Knees clicking in protest, she knelt down on the floor and began to go through the scattered worksheets. Somewhere here was exactly what she needed. It would be perfect. After all, she didn't need to bother about keeping Brandon out of things. He had gone soft. If this idea worked she would be rid of them all, and the Plastic house and all of Plastic St would be hers.

"Ah! Here it is!" She held the handwritten A4 sheet in the air triumphantly. It was lesson 35: How to Build a Bomb in Ten Easy Stages using only a Hearing Aid, an Electric Toothbrush, an Incontinence Pad, a Pair of False Teeth and Some Handy Household TNT.

Granny Gold smiled.


* PLASTIC ST WILL BE BACK IN THE NEW YEAR - A VERY PLASTIC CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE! *