The Wonderground

13 - Stephen

"Look," called out Jack excitedly. "A pub!"

"We're eleven years old!" replied Charlie exasperatedly.

"Come on!" Jack urged, running in the direction of the tavern.

Jack hurried towards a top-heavy pan-tiled building that looked like it might fall down any second. Thick orange smoke puffed from a single chimney. There was an ancient, rusted sign dangling awkwardly above the solitary wide, bowing window:

The Venus Arms

Milo Aphrodite, Proprietor

Charlie stopped Jack beneath the sign. "We've just stumbled on the most incredible, jaw-dropping, insane place on the planet – and you want to spend your time in the pub?!"

Jack paused. "They might sell really weird, cool stuff that's all,"

"Like what?"

"I don't know do I?" said Jack in frustration. "Fish beer?"

Charlie was not impressed. "And you'd drink that would you?"

"You know what I mean!" implored Jack. "Maybe the barman's got two heads or something!"

"Or maybe it's just a pub," sighed Charlie, reluctantly following his travelling buddy round the side of the crumbling building.

"What is that?" cried Jack excitedly, pointing through the coach yard entrance.

"Wow," said Charlie, his eyes widening. "That is one big bug!"

It was simultaneously the most beautiful and scary creature that Jack and Charlie had ever seen. Tied to a horse post was the biggest damselfly either of them had ever laid eyes upon. Its head was the size and shape of a tractor tyre. Judging from its dimensions, its wingspan must be twenty feet. The insect's wings were folded into its side as it rested. The thorax was a cerulean blue that shimmered in the light and reflected topaz, emerald and amethyst. It reminded Charlie of expensive paint jobs on pimped-up cars. Perched high upon its back, between its wings, was a well-worn saddle. Hanging in front of the creature was an upside down, oversized clear glass bottle, like the ones Charlie had seen hooked on to pet shop rabbit hutches. The damselfly was feasting greedily on the honey-coloured liquid inside, sucking contentedly at the bottleneck. It smelt like the unwashed rugby kit currently heaped in the bottom of Charlie's wardrobe. The liquid. Not the insect. The insect did not really smell of anything.

"Are you any good with knots?" asked Jack with a devilish grin.

"Don't you dare," hissed Charlie.

"Dare what?" smiled Jack innocently.

"Try to release that thing!" warned Charlie.

"Don't be silly," replied Jack. "I don't want to release it."

"Good," said Charlie with relief.

"I want to ride it!" he revealed with a hungry look in his eyes. He slowly and deftly untied the tattered rope that was tethering the insect.

"Don't be a muppet, Wilson," said Charlie urgently.

"We can't get into any trouble here, surely," replied Jack cheekily. "We don't exist. And, I don't see any insect traffic cops, do you?"

Charlie sighed. "If you fall off, try landing on your head. It will cause less damage."

"I won't fall off," answered Jack jumping with ease into the saddle. "Mum and dad paid for horse riding lessons. How hard can it be?" He adjusted his posture in the saddle and fixed his white Air Jordans into the metal stirrups. "I wonder where the start button is?" he smirked. He tried kicking the flanks of the damselfly, but its wings barely moved. "Giddy up! Ride 'em, cowboy!" He bounced up and down in the saddle.