Chapter 1

The boys were preparing for their second season of conceiving, writing, and performing wacky and insane sketches for the BBC under the "Flying Circus" name. Much to their relief, they were slowly but steadily accumulating a fan base in Britain (most of whom, they joked, must be people who were either insomniacs or simply out of their minds.) All in all, they were very happy with the first season and the ideas were flowing like never before.

Michael Palin was sitting at Terry Jones' dining room table and the two were working out a sketch that would be entitled "The Ministry of Silly Walks."

By the end of the evening they were both rolling on the floor laughing after having demonstrated various silly walks that could be used, and it was agreed that John's towering stature and poker-faced countenance made him the best choice to play the minister of said silly walks.

"Oh my God, Terry," said Michael, who was laughing. "I honestly don't know if I can keep a straight face through this."

Terry was still laughing as well. "It's hard enough getting you to keep a straight face as it is."

Mike just scowled at him, and they both went into the living room and plopped down on the couch. They stayed there for a long time, not moving or saying anything, just resting their eyes and their brains.

After one more hour of laughing, coming up with ideas, and doing run-throughs, they had at least another two minutes worth of sketch material written. Terry tried to stifle a yawn and Michael stood and stretched, looking at the clock. It was nearly midnight.

"It's getting late," said Terry. Michael agreed.

"I'll see you tomorrow then, Terry. I've got to be heading back."

"Right. I can't wait to show this skit to the others. It's funny stuff," said Terry, breaking down into giggles again.

It was early Febuary and the cold air was biting and stinging. Michael, shivering under his coat, walked downstairs from Terry's flat and fumbled with his keyring to find the right key for his old, rusty periwinkle blue '61 Volvo. His parents had helped him buy it when he first went away to Oxford. The car had been in his possession for nearly ten years and he still cherished the old clunker--that is, until it refused to crank.

"Come on, come one," Michael coaxed it gently, but the Volvo had long since failed to respond to these sort of pleas. He tried it a couple of times more, and when it still didn't crank Michael groaned loudly and banged his head against the steering wheel. Just for good measure, he brought his leg up and kicked the dashboard irritably, then he got out of the car. He walked back up to Terry's flat and rang the bell.

Terry didn't look entirely surprised to see him again. "Car wouldn't start?"

"Yeah," said Michael with an apologetic smile.

Terry appeared annoyed for a moment, but then had to laugh at his friend's pathetic look and so he said, "C'mon, I'll drive you home."

As they drove along, Michael complemented Terry on his new car, which he had only just purchased the week before. This was the first time Michael had gotten to ride in it.

"You know," Terry began. "Don't you think it's about time you sell that old heap and buy a new car yourself?"

"I don't need a new car," came Michael's automatic response, but at Terry's exaggerated expression of disbelief he threw up his arms in surrender.

"All right, maybe I do need a new car. It-it's just, well--this car has a lot of sentimental value. This was my first car. There's a lot of memories in those old seats."

"Mike, you can't hold onto a car forever just because you lost virginity in the back seat."

"I wasn't just talking about that," protested Michael, blushing a little. "I mean, this car sort of represents my independence. This is the car that I drove away from home in, the one I drove while I was at university."

Terry was silent for a moment, looking as if he were concentrating on the road. "You know what I think...I think you're just trying to come up with excuses because you don't want to have to buy another car."

"I am not!"

"Yes, you are! You hate dealing with pushy salesmen. But just think of all the birds you could pick up in a flashy, expensive new car. You know how they go for that sort of thing--and It would save me a lot of trouble too. I wouldn't have to chauffer you around everywhere. The car died a long time ago, time to put it out of its misery."

Michael sighed. He did feel guilty about having to rely on Terry so much for transportation lately. It would be difficult, but he would have to let go. "Well, I guess I could go to the used lot tomorrow and get something a little newer..."

"Used car lot!?" Terry shrieked. "Michael, what you need is a big expensive car, even better than this. You could just about afford it. You told me you've been saving up some money."

"Well yeah...But Terry, I don't need an expensive car. You know I never went for that sort of thing."

"It's what will impress the ladies. Trust me, a big, expensive car is exactly what you need. You won't have to worry about approaching birds anymore--they'll all flock to your new car like it was giving rides South."

Michael laughed. They drove on in silence, and he gave it some more thought. It seemed inevitable that he would need a new car, so why not splurge for once? He told himself that he deserved it, and that he would get a lot more attention from the ladies. That reason alone was enough to finally convince him.

They pulled up in Michael's driveway and Mike got out of the car. He waved good-bye and thanked Terry for the ride, but didn't tell him yet of his plans. He would give it some more thought the next day.

His living room was furnitured with colorful woven rugs, a thick wooden coffee table he had found at a flea market, and two or three historical paintings by up-and-coming artists that he had received as gifts but had barely gotten enough time to glance at. His sofa was old and worn, just the way he liked it. Michael had long since figured out that, even if a room was furnished in the most expensive and elaborate style avaliable, there should always be a ratty old sofa somewhere in the room as they made for the most comfortable places to rest after a long day.

He flung himself down onto the cushions and laid back onto a pillow. Soon after, he fell asleep.


To Chapter 2