Episode 10: The Warehouse Wobbles

Every story needs a moment of peril, and for Cosmo Farfetch, that moment arrived with a blindfold and the faint smell of industrial bleach.

It began, as most of Cosmo’s misadventures did, with a poor decision made in silk pyjamas. He offered Big Merv Monopoly money instead of the real thing. One minute, he was reaching for 'The Bank'; the next, he was awakening to somewhere far far away.

When he came to, Cosmo found himself in what could only be described as a warehouse — or perhaps a set from one of his lesser-known films, Bad Boys Go To Mars, complete with the same budget limitations and none of the flattering lighting.

The cavernous space echoed with every shallow breath he took. Rusted chains swung from the rafters, ageing crates loomed like disapproving elders, and a cracked disco ball lazily spun overhead, casting fractured light across the concrete in a way that suggested both danger and very poor taste.

The air smelled of oil, damp rope, and the ghosts of terrible decisions — the perfect environment for either a kidnapping or a low-rent sci-fi shoot, now both of which Cosmo had experienced. It was dramatically unflattering, profoundly unsettling, and exactly the sort of place where Cosmo assumed the worst.

He sighed. His mind drifting off on a tangent once again. Bad Boys Go To Mars was now a cult classic. He was being asked to attend Com-Con. He even contemplated whipping out that monologue. 'Do not fear my twin appendages, Earthling. They are symbols of unity… and, on difficult days, enthusiasm...'

He played an alien hermaphrodite with two appendages. Think face huggers from Aliens, but he wasn't laying eggs in the bad boys. He was depositing something else for universal conquest. He was almost nominated for a Saturn Award for his portrayal.

Yet right now, Cosmo’s imagination shifted to this sound stage, and as usual, it did not disappoint him. He pictured himself dismembered — beautifully, of course — in tasteful sections. But when Merv emerged from the shadows, the situation grew even stranger. He wasn’t holding a weapon. He was holding a microphone.

You see, Merv had layers. Beneath the broad shoulders and intimidating demeanour beat the heart of a man who collected karaoke trophies and romantic delusions in equal measure. And somewhere between the verse and chorus of Endless Love, Merv decided he might be more interested in collecting Cosmo’s heart than his outstanding payments.

Under the flickering warehouse lights, Merv’s deep baritone filled the air. Islands in the Stream echoed through the gloom, sincere, haunting, and entirely off-key. Cosmo, naturally, assumed it was a prelude to dismemberment.

But fate had other plans.

Miles, ever the reluctant hero, had realised something was wrong. Cosmo never missed Sunday Drag Brunch, not even when destitute, banned, or emotionally flammable. So he tracked Cosmo’s phone — a skill he’d learned after too many misplaced wallets and men — and followed the signal straight to the industrial district.

When subtlety failed him, as it often did, Miles opted for spectacle. He crashed his moped straight through the warehouse wall in a cloud of dust, glitter, and mild regret.

Merv froze mid-verse. Cosmo, draped dramatically over a packing crate, gasped and demanded to know whether this was his foreplay.

By the time the dust settled, Miles had spirited Cosmo away, Merv was left humming alone in the debris, and the story — as told later by Cosmo — had already evolved into something far grander. In his version, there were helicopters, tears, and a brief standing ovation.

But as any good narrator knows, the truth with Cosmo Farfetch is far less important than the performance.

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#SoapOperaSatire #DesperateHousewivesNarrator #GlamourInDanger #SequinsAndScandal
#MartinisAndMelodrama #QueerComedySeries #DarkCampHumour #DiscoBallPeril
#ALifeLessFabulous