Onward! To the Amusement Park!

A lone tumbleweed blew past stereotypically as Timothy stood at the gate of the amusement park, clutching his oddly-sock-like-smelling backgammon board tightly under his arm.

The amusement park was quiet.... too quiet...

Well, not really too quiet, it was actually just about the right degree of quietness...

Timothy looked down at his Mickey Mouse watch, and watched as the final three seconds passed before seven pm. His alarm immediately started playing the Mickey Mouse March, and he hurried deactivated it, startled at the amount of noise a small wrist watch with a cartoon mouse on it could make.

But, it was too late: someone had heard the alarm, and now approached him from the gloom of the 'Gloomy Ghost Train' ride, someone eating a large candyfloss and with a super-sized Cola-cola clutched in the other hand. Someone who looked strangely like a security guard.

"Beven," Timothy called, his voice reverberating off the ferris wheel and striking him like a mad bowler with the echo, "What have you done with 'The George'?"
"Beven?" the figure asked through a mouth filled with candyfloss, "Who's Beven?"
"You mean, you're not Beven?" Timothy asked, quizzically.
"No, 'fraid not," the figure said, "I'm just a lowly security guard, struggling to make ends meet whilst pursuing my life-long dream to become a singing detective..." The man sighed at this, and sadly slurped his Coca-cola through a blue plastic wiggly fun-straw.
"Well, wheres Beven then?" Timothy asked, suddenly alarmed for the safety of his beloved pet.
"Beven who?" the security guard-slash-struggling musically-gifted-detective asked.

Timothy paused. What was Beven's last name? Had he ever spoken it out?
He tried to think back to his first days at rock club....

******

Meanwhile, back at Timothy's apartment, Yolanda awoke to find herself face down in a bowl of Rock-chow, which had been left out earlier for 'The George', but now faced the prospect of living a life un-eaten unless the rock was returned.

"Timothy?" she asked.

"Darn!" she cursed in a PG manner, when she realised that Timothy was no longer in the flat, and was even now probably at the amusement park socialising with members of the law enforcement choir who worked part time as security guards.

She knew that Timothy would need her help. After all, without her there would be no potential love interest (although admittedly the chance of Timothy having any love interest, even if Yolanda was with him, was still slim), and the first blog, which outlined Timothy and Yolanda as the main characters, would have been utterly ruined. No, she had to go to his aid, and quickly!

Rushing from the apartment like "a small flying mammal associated with vampires" out of "a place of eternal damnation associated largely with both Christianity and the devil", she hurtled down the stairs three at a time, into the lobby of the apartment building.

No time to lose, she thought, and glanced down at her Donald Duck wristwatch to evaluate the time left.

7:02 pm.

She skidded to a halt.

7:02 pm??? Oh no!

Quickly she turned and dashed back up the stairs to her apartment. She had to tape Shortland Street!

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