"Hullo! Yer speakin to the Mane Man ere. Ferg's the name, fixin's my game......What can I do ya for?" Fergus greeted boisterously on putting his swanky iPhone to his ear. "Honestly, that's how ya introduce yerself now?! It's me, yer ol mate- Campbell, ya narcissistic lug!" came the teasing voice from the other end. "In the hopes o' meetin a nice enough lass o'er the phone- Aye! Fancy, ya callin me, mate." Fergus retorted, defending his posh greeting to his best mate. "Where are ya, by the way? I sorta needed some help. D'you still fix mixin consoles?" Campbell enquired, getting right to it. "I fix everythin! I'm the Ultimate Fixer! But, right now, I'm takin a break with my mate Rich Branson!" the Ultimate Fixer replied, boisterously again, as he floated in the air inside a spacious white room. "Ya know Richard Branson?! Sir Richard Branson?! The Sir Richard Branson?!" Campbell cried out in disbelief. "Is there any other? Aye, I know im. In fact, I'm at his place hangin out in his zero gravity simulator. It's bloody awesome!! Anyway, I'm helpin im build a time machine for that multimillion dollar company o' his....or atleast that's what he thinks I'm doin...!" Fergus explained, unable to help himself as he broke into a cunning grin. "Imagine the look on his face when I tell im that time travel's not possible an' make a run for it! We're loonies. We don't conform to the vagrancies o' time an' space, do we, ol boy?" the smart aleck reminded, drumming his fingers on his pot belly as he spoke and swam in midair at the same time. "Right...! Anyway, d'you think ya can come o'er an' have a look see. It's real urgent!" Campbell continued, suppressing a chuckle at the thought of good ol Fergus pulling a fast one on the richest man in Britain! He lost no time in giving him the address, before waiting for his reply. "Urgent, eh? Boy! D'you sound all like Eddie or what! Alright, I'll come o'er right now, mate. All this floatin around's makin me dizzy anyway!" Fergus declared, hanging up as he lazily swam towards the door. "Hold those Long Island ice teas for me, Rich! I'm steppin out for a bit." he called out to Mr. Branson who'd just entered the room, swimmingly himself and was now disappointed to see Fergus leave abruptly!
"Fergus McKinnon...in the flesh! I've heard so much about ya an' yer expertise from Mr. B, sir! Pleasure to make yer acquaintance! Can I have an autograph?" Kris requested, rolling his name off her tongue in a starstruck manner as she pushed her face up to him the moment he arrived, was led in by Campbell and sat himself at the desk. "Bit o' a fan, this one is." Campbell whispered to him, overwhelmed by the attention that his young student showered on them. "Oh! There's ere autograph, lass. Now, step back so ya don't get hurt... an' let's pop this baby open, shall we?" Fergus ordered, losing no time in getting down to work.
"Have ya been cleanin this thing?" he asked, suspiciously eyeing Campbell as he loosened the screws and opened it up, running his fingers along the interior carefully. "Uh...Aye...of course, I have. I mean, I might...I am...Well, I'm gonna...!" Campbell sputtered, nervously. "Ya haven't, have ya?" Fergus sniggered on hearing him lie badly!
"Sorry, no. It's just tedious work...for a systems analyst, who works part-time for NASA...an' apparently, Virgin, now! I'm just a lowly, recently unemployed RJ. " his lying friend muttered apologetically. "Oi! Yer a professional radio jockey. It's a dream you've been pursuin since I've known ya...an' now, yer rockin the radio waves right, left an' centre! I wish I could do it too! Besides, I hate my job at NASA. All I do is tighten the bolts on the Mars Rover when they come off!" Fergus scoffed, sounding all humble as he scolded his friend for taking what he did for a living for granted. Campbell was taken aback by his humble-minded pal, absent-mindedly smiling on seeing him toil while the rest of them stood by and handed him tools. "There...all done! Ere's that screwdriver back." Fergus snapped him back into reality as he returned his screwdriver to him and put everything back to how it was before.
"Fancy, ya carryin a screwdriver in yer pocket an' never once usin it!" the observant man remarked in jest, preparing to return to Mr. Branson's again. "It's more o' a safety thing, really. The night train's bit o' an unsafe an' spooky place, lemme tell ya! Cigarette? " Campbell revealed, offering him a cigarette from his carton in the hopes of getting him to stay a while and chat.
"I thought ya quit cold turkey. Does the missus know?" Fergus enquired, taking one as it and lighting it since it was chilly anyway. "What she doesn't know won't hurt er! I've missed these!" he heard Campbell exclaim with a mischievous wink before lighting one up himself and puffing away. "They'll hurt ya though. An' if ya intend on restartin this place, we might need that magical voice o' yers." his surprisingly strict friend objected, swiping it outta his mouth on realizing why Campbell had quit in the first place and why he shouldn't let the awful habit ruin his chances of jockeying again.
"Back to basics then, eh? Yer no fun, Fergus!" Campbell complained, as Fergus began to leave (with two cigarettes now!) "D'you think we'll court controversy this time around too?" he called out to the smoking man. "Not a problem for ya, is it though, ya maniac? Ya loved it the last time! Enjoyed the attention!" Fergus recounted teasingly before he left. "Aye...that I did!" Campbell reminisced, staring down at his converse with his hands shoved deep into his pockets as he broke into a ear to ear grin at the memories of his time at St. Jude's and how he planned on reliving those here at St. Dymphna's now!
YOU ARE READING
Takin Over the Asylum once more!Fanfiction
20 yrs later, Campbell Bain is happily settled. Workin for BBC radio, married to his dream girl and a father to cheery troublemakin twins, he couldn't be happier. That is, until his manic depression relapses an' he's sacked from his job. He's forced...