The Art of Shaman Persuasion

Howard and Vince find a way to persuade a reluctant Naboo to help them find “The New Sound.”


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Notes: This is a sort of missing scene from the end of “The Priest and The Beast.” You can blame the makers of Boosh for it, for letting Naboo parade around half-naked. Oh, and Bollo has nipped down to the grocers for fresh oranges or some shit, because I sort of forgot he was in the room and didn’t write him into it. He does turn up at the end, though.

The Art of Shaman Persuasion by MegaRouge

“You’d better get some magic potions out, Mowgli, or we’re gonna hurt you!” Vince’s eyes were desperate, and by the tone of his voice, he meant business.

“Give me a break,” Naboo said with a grin.

“What, you think we’re bluffing?” Noir asked in disbelief, “We’re dead serious, aren’t we Howard?”

“Absolutely,” Howard said smugly, “Make with the magic, shorty, or you’ll be sorry.”

“You know I can’t,” Naboo said, spreading his hands with an elegant little shrug. “I’m bound by shaman law to….”

“Yeah yeah, noble cause, we know that bit,” Vince said impatiently, “but this IS a noble cause!” He leaned closer and glared at the smaller man. “Helping us will save a shaman from bodily harm!”

“Yeah right,” Naboo scoffed, rolling his eyes, “I know you both too well; You’d never hurt me.”

“We’re desperate men, Naboo,” Howard said sternly. “There’s no telling what we’re capable of at a time like this!” The corners of Howard’s mouth twitched up as he fought not to grin. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Vince was trying not to laugh. Somehow, he just knew that Vince was thinking the same thing he was.

“Tell you what,” Naboo said, wrinkling his nose, “I’ll go put the kettle on while you two decide what sort of dastardly methods of persuasion you plan to try on me.” He shifted to the edge of the bed and started to stand. “But keep in mind, I AM a shaman; I don’t fold easily. You want eggs or kippers?”

“Alright,” Howard said with a grin, pointing, “grab him!”

“Righto,” Vince muttered, lunging across the bed at Naboo. The shaman yelped and tried to jump out of reach, but Noir snagged him by the waistband of his pajama trousers and yanked him back.

“Oi, leggo!” Naboo demanded, grabbing his pants as they very nearly slid right off his hips.

Vince wrapped his arms around Naboo’s naked torso and pulled him back down onto the bed. The diminutive mystic struggled and kicked, but the mod was too strong. Noir pinned Naboo’s right arm to the mattress and laid on top of it, taking care not to put too much weight on the twisting limb. Then he grabbed the shaman’s left wrist, pulled it above Naboo’s head and likewise pinned it down, effectively immobilizing the smaller man’s arms.

Meanwhile, at the foot of the bed, Howard had thrown himself across Naboo’s legs, like Vince, taking care not to crush his smaller friend. He moved onto his side, leaning on one elbow, facing his friends.

“Geroff!” Naboo was growling, ineffectively struggling under the weight of both of the much larger men, “This isn’t fair!” He started to laugh. After a moment, he gave up and just lay there, defeated.

“Now then,” Howard began, grinning, “Will you reconsider, Naboo? Will you brew us something to help us find the new sound?”

“Piss off,” Naboo sneered, “I’ll brew something that’ll make your wangers fall off if you ballbags don’t let me up.”

Vince cackled. “Oh man, Howard, he’s not gonna budge. He obviously needs persuasion.”

“Indeed,” Moon said with a nod, “You got him?” he asked, his grin widening.

“Oh yeah,” Vince replied with a sinister smile at their intended victim. He tightened his hold on Naboo’s wrist. “He’s not going anywhere.”

Unnerved by the look on Vince’s face, Naboo’s eyes widened. He looked from Vince to Howard, swallowing hard. “Wait…,” he began, trying to sit up.

“Too late!” Howard sang, “You had your chance to be reasonable.” He reached up and began drawing little circles on Naboo’s tummy with his fingertips.

“HEY!” the mystic squeaked, trying to squirm away from Moon’s fingers, “Howard! Quit it!” He struggled, twisting, starting to giggle.

“You asked for this, Naboo,” Howard said innocently, chuckling.

“Yeah, we warned you, you crease,” Vince added, laughing along with Howard. “We gave you a chance to help us, and you refused.” The mod reached over and used his long fingers to delicately stroke the skin under Naboo’s arm.

“No, STOP!” Naboo wailed, trying to pull his arm down, “Please! Viiiiiince!”

“You know what you have to do, Naboolio,” Howard said softly, “You know what we want.” He began to lightly rake his fingers back and forth through the little patch of hair around the shaman’s navel, eliciting another screech from his diminutive victim.

“EEK! Guys, c’mon, STOP!” Naboo squealed, trying frantically to buck Howard off him, with no effect. He wrenched at his trapped arms, arched his back, trying anything to escape the tickling fingers. “ST-ST-STOP! Please, please, pleeeeease…. I ca… I can’t….” Whatever it was Naboo couldn’t do was lost as the tiny mystic dissolved into helpless, hysterical laughter.

Howard grinned even more widely, and began to tickle softly up and down the hollows at the edges of Naboo’s spasming stomach muscles, first one side, and then the other. “We’re waiting,” he prompted.

Naboo couldn’t speak, all he could do was laugh. After a few moments, even his laughter became silent, and the shaman just lay there, shaking with soundless mirth.

Howard took mercy, and removed his hand. He watched Naboo laying there, little body trembling, fuzzy chest heaving, his face flushed and black hair plastered across his brow with sweat, tears streaming from his eyes.

“Do you give in?” the mustachioed man asked, raising his eyebrows.

Naboo shook his head, breathing hard.

“Really?” Moon asked, astonished. He raised one hand, and wiggled his fingers threateningly. “More torture, then?”

“Fuck you!” Naboo growled.

Howard looked across the shaman’s body to Vince, whose eyeliner had run down his face from laughing. The mod shrugged.

“Well, what do you think?” Vince asked Howard.

Howard gestured toward Vince. “Go for it,” he said with a smile.

Vince leaned over to leer into Naboo’s face for a moment. Then he reached down and began scuttling his fingers over the shaman’s ribs, and his victim shrieked.

“AUGH, NO! NOOOOOO!” Naboo was immediately overcome with laughter again, thrashing his head back and forth, eyes squinted shut as he pleaded for mercy. “VINCE, PLEASE PLEEEEEEASE, NO!”

Meanwhile, Howard sat up and lifted Naboo’s legs into his lap. Pinning the bony shins under his arm, he ran the tip of his index finger up and down the soles of the little shaman’s feet.

Naboo gave a screech that set the neighbor’s dogs to barking, and with Herculean effort, was somehow able to kick and twist his way out of his friends’ grips. He rolled onto his stomach, but before he could rise, Vince jumped on him, straddled him and began ruthlessly kneading his sides. The shaman screamed with laughter, bucking, pounding the mattress with his fists and feet, desperately trying to dislodge the mod.

Howard climbed off the bed, and knelt beside it, putting his face at eye-level with the shaman. He couldn’t hold back his own laughter at the sight of Naboo’s red face, and he realized how infrequently he’d seen the smaller man laugh. As he watched, he heard the shaman’s voice begin to grow hoarse, and the laughter was replaced by a coughing fit. Moon quickly motioned for Vince to stop, and the mod removed his hands.

“Stop… stop… you win… please…,” Naboo gasped out each word between huge intakes of air, the last traces of merriment making his voice tremble. As Vince climbed off of him, Naboo rolled onto his back and lay there, spent, sweaty, and giddy.

“You’ll help us, then?”

The shaman nodded breathlessly. “Got just the thing…,” he wheezed, “Liquid Music.” He got shakily to his feet, and Howard and Vince followed as he moved to his supply table. He grabbed a few ingredients, blended them well, and poured the orange concoction into two matching beakers, which he then handed to his friends.

Five minutes later, Howard and Vince were on their way to the recording studio. Naboo was sitting on his bed with Bollo, discussing The Boosh and their chance at signing on with the record company. Bollo asked him if he thought the potion would really help Vince and Howard.

“I doubt it,” the shaman replied, wrinkling his nose, “That was just lucozade….” He laid back on the bed, smiled, and smugly folded his arms behind his head.

“….And a LOT of Dulcolax.”

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