| Hugo Shuntflap had no occasion to enter The Haunch Of Venison Inn and Chop House on February the second 1853. It was only the driving rain that propelled him through the doorway but, soon after hanging his cape beside the fire, he was overcome by a rare conviviality and ordered a porter, some devilled kidneys and a pigeon pie. The Inn was just emptying out after luncheon but still retained a conciliatory buzz and he spotted a perfect corner to secrete himself next to The Table and the fire. Initially concerned that his fragile wife, Emily, would have an attack of the vapours if she knew he was in a hovel of such reputation he dismissed his misgivings about besmirching his good name further by musing on how she would react if she knew that he didn't share sherry and anecdotes at his nights at the Philanthropic Society but used it as a cover to enable him to consort with the coarse but wonderful creatures of Poultry Cross market. Wiping his whiskers, he slid his not insignificant frame from its comfortable crevice and climbed the stairs to micturate before taking his leave. It was then, however, that he saw the jukebox. Chrome-cased and not unanachronistic it had a number of decorative spinning discs within - and without, a slot for monies that he was significantly unfamiliar with. Before he could ask the Inn keeper where the infernal contraption had come from, it suddenly 'cranked' to life and emitted sounds that he fancied mirrored the very bellows of Hades itself. He was familiar with the ungodly, had even made claims to have seen the Romsey Marsh Phantoms but nothing could have prepared Shuntflap's constitution for what he heard that afternoon. For a full hour did the machine root Shuntflap to the spot and by the time it had finished he left The Haunch Of Venison a changed shell of a man... No sign of the jukebox was found on his return with the city magistrate and sadly he died ignominiously of consumption and venereal malady only one month later. Some say they could still hear his ears ringing as his body was interred... These are the sounds that he heard that day from the phantom jukebox and that to this day are still talked about in hushed tones in dark corners of The Haunch Of Venison... |