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    White Space Van Man The Prequel: Total Fickle
    White Space Van Man The Prequel: Total Fickle
    White Space Van Man The Prequel: Total Fickle
    Ebook79 pages1 hour

    White Space Van Man The Prequel: Total Fickle

    By Darren Worrow

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    About this ebook

    A not so distant future,
    In a galaxy so close it is in fact, this one...........

    White Space-Van Man revs off.

    Workshy slob and long term redundant doughnut Barry is a modern man, well, he takes the bins out and it has been known that, sometimes, he even washes up the dishes. When his good intentions to generally skive and dodge his job centre interview horribly backfires in the worst possible way, our anti-hero tub of lard is offered some work experience, 22nd century style.

    Will he succeed in becoming the saviour of the human race while carrying out his newfound employment as a pilot of a white space-van with efficiency and productivity, or is this all really some kind of horrible trick to prise him off of his sofa? Does Barry really care, he has a Cornish pasty and he’s quite happy with that? I hate book blurbs that end with lots of questions, don’t you?

    Praises be to the almighty White Space-Van Man, and we never even paid these reviewers:
    5* “Worth every penny: I am always sceptical with authors I do not know but after I bought this on I was hooked and believe this to be a literary marvel and for comedy styling, its up there with P G Wodehouse. I believe this man will go far and if not I want a full enquiry in to why not...” Amazon.

    5* “Brilliant take on white van man: You will never look at a van driver in the same light again. Set way into the future, this book charts the adventures of Barry the Space Van Man. There is more to it than just Barry, but I don't want to spoil your fun. The really great thing about Barry is that as he travels the galaxy in his white space van, he's just like the stereotypical white van drive today, it's brilliant. This is definitely a book to put your feet up with and I highly recommend it.” Amazon.

    5* “Great Read! Full of humor, wit, and even some fact, WHITE SPACE VAN MAN is a book to be read by all fans of HITCHHIKER'S GUIDE TO THE GALAXY. Barry is an average and unsuspecting intergalactic delivery driver. When he delivers the wrong package to the wrong place, he gets pulled into somewhat of a mystery. Barry's interaction with the computer and with the alien trying to learn English are hilarious. This novel is a must read for any fans of space travel or witty comedy.” Amazon.

    5* “This is one of the funniest books I have read in a long time. It is well written and a pleasure to read from start to finish. If the sequel ever comes out I will be very happy indeed.” GoodReads.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherDarren Worrow
    Release dateApr 4, 2015
    ISBN9781310513497
    White Space Van Man The Prequel: Total Fickle
    Author

    Darren Worrow

    I was born in the Fling Dynasty of a small planet known as Duncan in a galaxy far, far away. My humble parents, believing the planet was on the eve of destruction, sent me off as a baby in an egg-shaped craft and I landed here on planet Earth in the spring of 1973. I was later to discover through a cavern of ice, as you do, that the planet was fine all the time and it was just a particularly nasty prank by my father’s mates down the pub. I landed in a deep jungle and was raised by a company of wolves, learning to live as they did. Until one day when a naughty tiger with a very English accent came along and I was whisked away by a black panther and a jazz singing bear to a man-village. It wasn’t the tiger I was worried about; it was the American cartoon producer following on behind him. It was at the village that I won a golden ticket to visit a chocolate factory where I fell into a river made of chocolate and was sucked up a pipe into a fudge room; happy days. It could have been worse; I heard some other kid turned into an exploding blueberry. I lived at a coastal Inn for a while until an old sailor paid me a penny to look out for a legless seadog; what a cheapskate. In finding him I discovered a treasure map and was promptly whisked away by a sailor to a Caribbean island where I got into a bit of a rumble with some pirate radio DJ called Captain Tony Blackbeard. It was that or another holiday in Clacton. At eleven I was taken away by a man with an uncanny resemblance to actor and comedian Robbie Coltrane to a school for wizards where I had to battle it out with some bald blue bloke who killed my parents, said he was a lawyer working for an author called JK Rolling or something. That wasn’t as bad as the frog flavoured semolina we had to eat for school dinner. As I grew up and went to college I decided to give my favourite toys, a cowboy and a space ranger, away to a snotty girl from around the corner, nobody told me the cowboy was really Tom Hanks otherwise I would have given them away a lot sooner. So, other than the time I was bitten by a rare spider and found myself with special arachnid powers which I used to defeat an evil leprechaun, I left college and it was all very uneventful. Nowadays I have settled down to a family life and enjoy writing books, striving to be more like Bruce Bogtrotter every day. People say “where do you get your ideas from?” I tell them I have no idea, I've had such a boring, everyday life. If you really can be bothered to know more about me why don’t you visit my website at www.darrenworrow.webs.com and find out even more honest facts?

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      Book preview

      White Space Van Man The Prequel - Darren Worrow

      White Space-Van Man

      Revs off

      Total Fickle

      A prelude to White Space Van Man

      Darren Worrow

      White Space-Van Man

      Revs off

      Total Fickle

      Darren Worrow

      ©2015 Copyright is respectfully retained by the author.

      All Rights Reserved.

      No part of White Space Van Man Revs Off: Total Fickle may be reproduced or transmitted or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

      No similarity between any of the names, characters, institutions, persons or substances in White Space Van Man Revs Off: Total Fickle and those of any persons living or dead is intended and any such similarity is purely coincidental.

      1st Edition published 2015 by Smashwords.

      For more information on Darren Worrow:

      www.darrenworrow.webs.com

      A not so distant future,

      In a galaxy so close that it is in fact, this one…….

      1.

      Like a chimney fire, but not a chimney fire, just like it, smoke belched through the room. A chubby sausage-fingered hand wafted it through the air in a hopeless attempt to clear a path of vision.

      OWW! Shit! Hot, hot, hot! alerted a male voice as a second hand came into play. It grasped a baking tray through a frayed oven mitt; upon it the charcoaled remains of sliced pig’s back bubbled in its own grease and fat. The hand moved frantically, searching for an appropriate place in which to hurl the baking tray, but it failed, badly.

      Visible now the smoke waned just a smidgen is an assortment of cooking utensils; pots, frying pans and plates, used knives and spoons; dirty, littering the top of the oven and the kitchen tops accompanied with spilt puddles of baked bean sauce, dribbles of oil, fat and slabs of butter.

      The hand surrendered, lobbed the hot baking tray on top of a saucepan; affecting its balance on top of another, slightly smaller pan. The naked hand reached to try and stop it from its tumble and winced back as it made contact. Fuck a duck! went the voice like a fire alarm, which is what, coincidently, this kitchen badly needed.

      Unsteady, the hand raised a spatula above the scorching baking tray. It nosed-dived and a slice of the cured meat is scraped off and plonked with certain pride on a plate already overloaded with sizzling sausages, dry slices of black pudding, fat-swimming-wedges of button mushrooms, a half-cooked salad tomato and a whole can of baked beans.

      The hand abandoned the tray and moved across to a frying pan in which the contents of two chicken’s eggs were emptied into a pool of oil. They crackled and spat in fat. It lifted the offending item and slid the contents onto the plate. Realising there was no space reserved, the hand flung it aimlessly on top; it seemed the only way forward. The weight of the egg landing caused the bean-sauce and fat to dribble over the sides of the plate. Oh baby! slurred the voice.

      Another, smaller plate, is sourced and three rounds of toasted bread are placed on it; scrapped of charred layers and buttered like butter might be suddenly made illegal and you had to get plenty while you still could. The owner of these proficient breakfast-creating hands stood back and looked proudly at his creation. He smiled, licked his lips and rubbed his spare-tyre tummy.

      He glided, as much as an overweight hippo can glide, to the fridge, thrusted the door open and the light greeted him; so too did the fridge’s computerised voice but he ignored both. Voice recognition awaited command but picked up nothing audible, save a burp. From the bottom door compartment he wrapped two fingers around the spout of a four-litre plastic carton, tugged it out and slammed the door without saying goodbye. There was no need; no one gave a seconds thought of communicating with the computers in white goods unless it was broken. The fridge desired some compassion, yearned for pleasantries but only ever got demands for a diagnosis. It sighed as the light diminished, Oh, it whined, another time then.

      Orange juice, The tubby human specimen muttered to himself, yeah, a nice healthy drink, and poured a quarter of the contents into a pint beaker.

      He took a sip and then moved back to his dinner-plate, spilling at its sides with a greasy array of badly cooked food and home for a mountain more in its centre. The man elevated his fist flush with his chin, his thumb slid up towards his bottom lip, and then he buffed his first finger along the ridge, deep in thought. What have I forgo…….oh yeah, silly me. How could I forget that? he asked himself, reached for the oven-glove and tugged at the stove-door.

      He took out the near-forgotten item as it sizzled on its tray, and smiled. Plonked it on top of his food-mountain, and figured; the meal is now complete. With pride he triumphantly asserted, "No Barry-special breakfast is complete without…… a Cornish pasty; oh yeah, living the dream!"

      2.

      It‘s come to my attention while everyone in

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