It was over. The Hollywood Bowl experience was ended. The Pythons pulled off their costumes as they descended the stage steps and picked up towels and bottles of water specially prepared for this moment.

“Well that was fun,” said John with a grin on his face.

The guys grinned back at him.

“I’d recommend doing that to anyone!” said Terry. He looked around, disappointed that Alison hadn’t come to meet him from back stage.

Michael’s half smile told Terry that he knew what he was thinking, and he winked at his friend. It was a shame Chelsea hadn’t stayed. He couldn’t understand it though, and was more than a little suspicious about the events surrounding the whole situation. It seemed something was at work here to sabotage their chances of making it together, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Annabel’s figure strode into view, her clipboard and pen in their familiar places, a big smile on her face.

“Well gentlemen,” she said, “it’s time to party. You have three backstage groups to meet, do signings for etc, and then you have a small thing to do outside, you know waving and that to all those adoring fans.”

Gilliam grinned and Eric rubbed his hands. “Ooh the celebrity status of Hollywood,” he said.

“Then it’s off to party with you all. There are a lot of people there waiting to meet you, and a few surprises along the way.” She said, casting a small glance sideways at Michael who was playing with his Mounties hat.

“So come on! Chop, chop! Stuff to do!” she said and herded the lads off to their respective dressing rooms.

Before she let Michael go, she kissed him hard on the mouth and whispered, in her most sultry voice, “I have a little after show present for you too,” she said, before leaving him in his dressing room to get changed.

He looked in the mirror and grimaced. He didn’t want an after show present from Annabel. He didn’t want anything from Annabel. He would tell her tonight that he didn’t want to be with her anymore, and leave for England as soon as possible.

***************************************************************************************************************

The hordes of people outside couldn’t lift Eric’s spirits. The groups that had won backstage tickets with the local radio station couldn’t cheer him up. There was something not quite right about the entire Michael and Chelsea situation. And for another thing, Alison had disappeared, despite Terry’s frantic searching. No one had seen her since before the final set. Annabel had suggested that maybe Alison had returned to her hotel to get ready for the party, but Terry cast her a wary glance, and was adamant that Alison said she’d meet him after the show.

Annabel seemed to be doing little if anything to help find her, and had mentioned off-handed that one of the lighting guys had seen her leaving the building, and, although Terry begrudged such a statement, he accepted it and was led from the Hollywood Bowl into the crowds.

Eric looked at him now with the same downheartedness he could see on almost all of the Python’s faces. Graham was waving at people but he had started chewing his pipe, and was clearly deep in thought. Gilliam had that rough look of a pissed off American, and John’s face was literally stone like.

Meanwhile Annabel was pushing them in the direction of the tour bus and was touching Michael’s arm every now and then, smiling widely as camera’s flashed and people shouted for the Python’s autographs.

When they finally managed to push past the crowds and climb onto the tour bus John scowled as he sat himself on a plush leather seat.

“That was much worse than I had expected.” He said bluntly, casting a doubtful glance at Annabel who smiled sweetly at them all as she finished chatting with the bus driver.

“Well lads, your chores are over now and we can all go and party. Which is well deserved don’t you think?”

There was a rumble from Gilliam that could be closely described as a growl, and John cast her a sardonic glance.

“Come on guys! Why are you all so miserable?” Annabel folded her arms. “I thought this was supposed to be a happy occasion? You’ve completed a successful tour, made it in America and you’re loved across the globe! You made money here! Come on?!”

Terry scoffed. “I think we Python’s have had enough of the money already.”

Annabel looked at him as though he were mad.

Eric shrugged. “Maybe we’re not as interested in the money as we thought we’d be?” he asked and a general nodding and murmuring from the group confirmed the consensus.

“Look guys. People have gone to a lot of effort to put this into production. Please try and cheer up for them at the party.”

John looked around. “Come on guys.” He said. “We owe them at least some smiles.”

Eric put on his most pathetic smile and Gilliam slapped his arm.

“We’ve got to at least try.” Said Terry. “I know a lot of the staff are going to be there and they need to see that we appreciate what they’ve done for us.”

Again a rumbling of agreement passed over them and Annabel uncrossed her arms with a small satisfied smiled playing on her lips. She sat next to Michael and put her hand on his leg, which he shifted closer to himself.

“What’s up darling?” she asked innocently but he continued to stare out of the bus window until they finally reached the Club.

It was packed out. There were balloons and flyers and streamers and coloured fabrics flying around the front of the Club, and the Python’s couldn’t help but be impressed. Glass statues framed the front door and two large bouncers waved them through down the red carpet and into the main room.

As they entered applause began and suddenly the room was alive with whooping and shouting and clapping.

The Pythons looked around and smiled and waved their hands and then made their way across to the bar where huge champagne fountains were being poured over what looked like a thousand champagne glasses.

Eric ordered a JD and coke, Graham his elusive orange juice, Terry a pint, John a whiskey, Gilliam a orange cocktail with umbrella and sparkly tinsel peering out of it, and Michael picked a trust worthy lager. Annabel ordered Orange, blaming her work for not drinking, and, when Michael’s back was turned, pushed something into his drink to make him a little more lucid.

The Python’s were hampered on each side by thousands of people congratulating them, thanking them, talking to them or in some cases talking AT them.

Eventually Annabel led them to the designated seating area very near tables upon tables of food were laid out.

There seating places had their names on them, and Annabel had been very careful to seat Michael and herself at least two or three places from the nearest Python.

“Michael, you’ve finished your drink already. Would you like another?” Annabel asked him, and he shook his head, determined not to say more than he had to to this infernal woman.

Annabel slipped from his side and disappeared and Michael looked out over the room of people, out onto the dance floor where people were performing weird acrobatics and trying desperately to look cool.

His stomach flipped, which he thought was rather bizarre considering he’d only had one drink. But he supposed that was due to the fact he’d necked it more quickly than he should’ve.

Annabel returned and smiled at him as she placed the beer in front of him. “I know you said you didn’t want another one but I thought you looked like you needed it.”

Michael shrugged and accepted the drink.

She looked at him carefully as he drank and couldn’t help let a small smile play on her lips. She fought to control it to give him her most innocent and expectant face.

“Michael, what’s wrong?” she asked gently and he looked away from her.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He said rigidly and she frowned.

“We’re supposed to be a couple, and you won’t talk about it?”

Michael shook his head. “Annabel we’re not a couple, other than a couple of fools. I’ve been meaning to tell you all along, but I haven’t had the courage, or the chance before…”

Annabel knew this was the moment she’d been waiting for.

Michael leant in towards her so she would be spared the embarrassment of other people hearing what he had to say next.

She slipped her hand into her handbag and picked out what she knew she would need.

“Oh my God!” she squealed quite loudly and Michael looked at her with a mixture of shock and confusion.

“I can’t believe you’re asking me this!” she called out quite loudly, causing some of the table, including many of the Pythons, to glance over at her as she threw her arm around Michael’s neck.

The other hand slipped down to his thigh under the table and pierced his flesh with the syringe she’d been clutching.

Michael looked down at his leg in shock, before feeling the world begin to spin.

“What the hell…?” he choked as she held him closely to her.

“Oh Michael!” she crowed louder. “Of course I’ll marry you!”

Michael felt the world begin to spin out of control and black began encroaching on his vision.

Terry jumped from his chair and looked at where his friend was leaning on Annabel, his hands on her waist and his head in her chest. Annabel was looking triumphant as she held him close to her.

Michael couldn’t have proposed could he? He was in love with Chelsea. But maybe he was doing this to spite her, or himself. Maybe he knew that it was all he could ever get, now that Chelsea had left.

But there was something not quite right about the whole situation, and Terry couldn’t help but feel the chill that ran down his spine as Annabel helped Michael up from his chair.

He walked over to where she was trying to put Michael’s arm around her neck and smiled up sheepishly at Terry as he approached.

“I think he’s had a little too much to drink already.” She said with a school girl giggle.

Michael’s eyes were glazing and he was mumbling under his breath. Terry could smell the beer on him, but didn’t think he’d ever seen his friend quite so out of it before.

“How much has he had?” he asked and Annabel shrugged.

“I left him at the bar for a while and he’s had at least four that I’ve seen.”

Terry nodded slowly. “I’ll take him to the Hotel with me.” He said firmly and Annabel laughed gently.

“No need.” She said. “I’ve had quite enough myself, and I’m heading to bed. I may as well take him with me too.”

Terry looked down at her suspiciously and felt torn. What should he do? Never had he felt so useless before in his life, but Annabel looked innocent, if a little dishevelled and he nodded slowly.

“Ok. Take care of him.” He said with a small, disconcerted smile. He watched her struggle through the crowd with an almost paralytic Michael in tow, and frowned.

Eric touched his shoulder. “Where’s she going with him?” he asked, his JD refilled.

Terry crossed his arms. “Back to the Hotel. Michael’s wasted.”

Eric nodded. “Looks it too.”

Terry turned to his friend. “Do you get the sense that something is out of place here?”

Eric looked at him with a small smile. “All the time.” He started to chuckle gently when he saw Terry’s brow furrow further.

“If it’s any consolation, I don’t believe Michael just proposed to her. And I don’t think that in the morning he will remember doing it, or that he actually did do it, and I don’t think that waking up next to Annabel, however beautiful she may be, will be what Michael wants.”

Terry nodded slowly. “I hope he’s ok.” He said, and Eric patted his shoulder.

“Michael’s a grown man, and I don’t think he’s going to do anything stupid. For one thing, he’s too paralytic to even consider it.”

Terry smiled then, very softly. He cast his gaze about the club. “I wish Alison were here. I can’t figure out where she’s gone.” He said and Eric put his arm around his shoulder.

“Terry baby, she’s probably passed out on your bed at the Hotel. Jet lag’s probably set in! Poor girl.”

Terry nodded and felt the useless feeling creep over him again.

“Come on,” Eric said, fingering his empty glass, “let’s get trolleyed.” He said as he led Terry to the bar.

************************************************************************************************************

Annabel pushed Michael into the back of the car she had positioned across from the club. The bouncer had recognised her and helped her with him, as she had apologised profusely and, promising that she hadn’t had anything to drink, and kissing the bouncer on his cheek, she clambered into the drivers’ seat and stepped on the gas.

She had roughly an hour to get to the private airport to catch the Python’s private plane out to La Vegas. She had had this planned for days now, and they were expecting her. She had packed the car’s boot with a small bag of clothing for her and Michael, his and her passports, their tickets and some other items that she planned to use on their wedding night.

Annabel smiled as she drove, and looked over her shoulder in the rear view mirror at her sleeping husband to be.

No one would be so surprised to find that they’re friend had proposed to her and taken her to Vegas to get married that very night. They might question it, but Michael wouldn’t remember a thing, and he would resolve to try and work their marriage out. He was that kind of typical English guy, and he would stick it out until death would part them.

She pushed the radio button on the car’s dashboard and grinned happily to herself as music filled the car.

No, nothing was going to get in her way, and by this time tomorrow, she would be Mrs Palin, and would have consummated their marriage over.

*************************************************************************************************************

Michael felt like his head was going to explode, and he moaned gently to himself. His head was throbbing with an intense pain he’d never experienced before. There was a droning in the background that he couldn’t place, but he felt hands on his head, and a cool breeze flow over his skin, and he didn’t mind so much that there was pressure in his ears or that he felt like he was on a ship on a choppy ocean.

He was lying down, he could tell that much, and he made to move his arm, but felt a hand on it, and tried to prize open his eyes to see who it was.

But he could smell her next to him, and he knew who it was.

Annabel looked over at him from the bed cubicle of the plane and smiled at his face gently.

“Hey baby.” She said, running her hand up the inside of his thigh and causing him to blink several times. He realised as she touched him that he was naked, and when he went to move his head he knew already that she had no clothes on.

“What the hell has happened?” he asked as she began to caress him in her hand, causing him to catch his breath ever so gently.

“You got very drunk so I brought you home baby.” She said softly and he looked about him, his head still dull and his eyes hurting with the light, however soft it might be.

“This doesn’t look like the Hotel Annabel.” He croaked.

Annabel pushed the syringe down from where she had placed it into his thigh and pushed more serum into his body.

Michael’s face relaxed again and he muttered something indiscernible as she crept over his body, massaging his hard shaft and touching herself.

His eyes were open and he was looking at her, but she knew that he was probably asleep by now, and, although his body functions were all normal, he wasn’t in control of them and he couldn’t tell they were being used.

She pushed his cock into herself and smiled and laughed with the exhilaration and rode him as he lay, helpless, in the airplane bed.

*************************************************************************************************************

The stage hand swept the last dust away from the stage and looked around the Bowl. The air was so still now, whereas a few hours previously it had been full of people laughing, shouting, beer and other substances that they technically didn’t know about.

The last night had been amazing, and, as he stood on stage, he dreamt of being a great performer, of being able to entertain thousands of people with jokes, or acting, or singing or really just anything.

He swept over the stage with his broom and felt strangely alone in the huge theatre. He looked around and couldn’t see anyone. There had only been a party of ten left behind to clear up before the big dismantling project for the following day, but they’d probably all dwindled off to the party by now.

Ray wasn’t interested in the parties. He loved the stage, and, knowing that there was no one there made him start to hum, and finally, burst into song as he danced around his broom.

He belted out a couple of songs, before finally whistling to himself in the satisfaction that always followed singing loudly when no one else was about, and he was about to leave the stage when he thought he heard a thud.

Looking about himself he stopped whistling and listened intently.

Thud, thud, and another thud. He walked over the stage, instinctively knowing that the noise was coming from somewhere below him.

“Hello?” he called.

Thud.

“Hello, can you here me?” he shouted at the floor, and was quickly joined by another stage hand called Cary.

“What are you doing here?” Ray asked, and Cary pointed at the lighting scaffolding.

“Fixing a lamp light.” He smiled at his colleague. “Nice singing by the way.” He said and winked and Ray felt himself redden.

“Can you hear that?” he asked, avoiding the compliment and turning his attention back to the thudding noise.

Cary nodded. “I thought it was you making a beat before, but when you stopped I realised it wasn’t. Do you think someone’s stuck down there?”

Ray shrugged. “I don’t see how they could’ve gotten down there. You have to go down all these little corridors, and most of the doors down that way are locked now. You know, ever since the accident with the trap door, they’ve sealed it all up.”

Cary nodded. “Could be a trapped animal then?”

Ray looked sceptical. “Making that noise? It’d have to be a big animal.”

They hunted around the floor as the thudding continued, and eventually found the area where it was loudest.

Ray continued to call out as the thudding subsided for a while, and at one point swore he could he someone calling out.

“Did you hear that?” he asked Cary wide eyed. “Sounded like a woman.”

Cary nodded. “I thought it was my imagination.” He glanced about him. “Come on,” he said as he began running his hands over the floor, “they must’ve sealed the trap door somehow. And I’m betting they just laid another floor over the old one.”

After about half an hour of searching the floor with their hands Cary hooted and began pulling up the textured flooring that covered the right half of the Bowl’s stage.

“What happens if it’s just an animal Cary? We’re gonna get tapped for the money for this!”

Cary shrugged. “And if it’s a woman? We could save her life!”

Together they pulled up half the flooring until they came upon a square shaped hole.

“Hello?” Ray called towards the floor.

They listened intently and heard a faint “hello” called back, which confirmed their fears. Cary disappeared off stage left and returned quickly with a crow bar.

The boards of the stage floor were no resistance for the strength of the 20 year old, and he had quickly prised apart the trap door and several boards either side of it.

The pair looked down and could see nothing but dust and more boards.

“We’re going to have to go in there.” Cary said, and saw Ray’s face blanch.

He pushed the crow bar into Ray’s hand and grabbed the torch from his tool belt.

“Go and call reception. If there’s no one there dial 4. You’ll get an outside line. Then dial 911. We might need them if this woman’s hurt.”

Ray nodded as Cary lowered himself into the darkness, searching with his feet for a safe hold.

“Go!” he said and watched as Ray’s figure disappeared into the wings.

He crept into the darkness and flicked on the flash light. He hoped for their sakes that what they heard was real.