THE PITFALLS OF HALLOWEEN HOUSE GUESTS
Two Millennia?! A Long Time to Leave the Earthlings to Their Own Devices
[¡Cuidado! Graphic photo ahead. Frog’s legs]
Writer’s cramp. Most painful. And so I did go to walk it off yesterday morning. To hike in the sage with sage friends (real life friends who are smart), cause one is from Chicago.
Driving to the spot, passing the casino, the digital ad sign announcing “MEN’S DAY”. What the fuck? They have had days, weeks, months, years, even centuries and they still get it wrong!
The sign is usually buffalo charging out of it, stampeding into the street, the school crossing guard is mesmerized, the children are safe. But occasionally, a driver, (not me) misses the wind on the windy road and drives their car into the front of an apartment, parking it sideways. A strange sight to see from your morning coffee, enit?
Alas, parked at the head of “Dead Truck” trail. Sage friends and a canine awaited my arrival.
The man sage was quite useful as the woman from San Chicago and myself, queen of the Northern Hemisphere, followed. Yes, we follow the guy, in case of snakes. There was a snake that dared to cross our path. Not a cobra or a rattlesnake or I would not be here to write my memories.
We spoke of Aussies, the people, not the dogs. I’ve met several Aussies (dogs). I even had one. We named her Smokey. But, I, in as much as I have traveled and lived in a city that is actually diverse in culture (not in Nevada), I’ve never met an Aussie.
The sage imparted to me a fact found on Facebook. “If the earth was flat, a cat would have knocked everything over the edge already.”
So, by default, Australia does exist.
The Existors had prevailed, and my brief period of non-existence had come to an end.
There was a certain pleasure in watching the dishes pile up, the garbage starting to fill the yard and to assign whiskey and potato chips the role of primary dietary supplements, all in the safe knowledge that none of it existed.
But that was over now. Not only did I have a lot of dishwashing ahead of me, but worst of all, I had to deal with the return of that most unwelcome of house guests: The Existential Crisis.
There was a cry from the next room.
“How’s it going, dear, have you sorted out the meaning of life yet?”
Non-existence was suiting me, and I’d been making so many plans, like how I was going to fly my car to the moon with the assistance of 77 pigeons.
That all felt delusional now.
I was only one third of the way through the dishes when it was time to change to water.
As the water drained away, I could hear that it was talking to me.
“Glog, clog, obble, obble, gleeeesss, plop, plop.”
Finally, a cryptic message I could sink teeth into.
Was it possible that the universe still hadn’t caught up?
Not likely to happen anytime soon.
Tell me, what did you see?
They’ve not yet learned to play basketball properly.
The horrors!
It was lain, pole to the ground, the net a zentangle of mesh.
Most frightful. Tell me of the sapos.
Crushed, your highness. Under the tires of both diesel fitter and electrolytes.
Halloween decorations are up?
Yes, Lucy Furr did bark at one. She witnessed it on Mulligan Way during the morning of the Sabbath. It was that of a ghost child on a swing.
Excellent work. Extra treats for Lucy Furr.
Noted.
Is Smillew’s ship still where it crash-landed?
Yes, your highness. It’s not been camouflaged, as would be the prime rib directive.
And, how long ago did it land?
Many.medium.months ago.
He must be found and brought to Justice.
Justice no longer works at the Bunny Ranch —
— Find her!!!
Yes, your highness. But what of the basketball? Shall we show them how to play properly the game of Shaq?
Let them dribble a bit longer. Perhaps they will find their own way.
So, revisit Earth in . . .
…over two millennia.
My family was living in a cave, just north of Hadrian’s Wall. It wasn’t a very nice cave so I spent a lot of time walking.
I came across these rather funny green Romans with cone-shaped heads. They asked me if I’d like to see the universe, which at the moment I assumed to be Rome.
Little did I know as they transported me across the universe that I was the first human ever to venture into space.
And now, two millennia later they were returning me to Earth for the first time. All I had to do was take a sip of the magic whisky every day and my life would be sustained indefinitely.
With the help of Earth’s primitive communications technology called the internet, I was able to track down my sixty-seventh cousin who had just moved to Australia.
They were coming around for dinner.
“Thank you so much for reaching out, I’m super excited to meet you. I should just mention that my husband Barry is a recovering alcoholic, so if you’ve got any alcohol lying about, could you please hide it.”
There was a big white box with an airtight seal on it. The light came on when I opened the door. This seemed like a great place to hide the magic whisky.
Beryl and Barry arrived around lunchtime. After two millennia, I had a lot to catch up on.
Barry was looking a little edgy and kept getting up and wandering around.
He headed into the kitchen and when he returned, he’d mysteriously been transformed into a three-year-old child.
Warren sat down on the floor next to Billy, looked at him, his bag of Boy Scout popcorn, made from real Boy Scouts, wet his lips.
Billy, quite used to unexpected company in his auntie’s house, shared the kettle corn without hesitation.
Watching Looney Tunes, with the sound off, as to not awaken Tio Smillew, up to the main house from the flooded basement. Tio snoozed, snoring loudly, fidgeted in his sleep, missing his unicorn floatie.
Warren, feeling quite sorry for the poor bastard, brought one of Ziggy’s stuffed toys to him, the squeaky camo crocodile, one that Lucy Furr was not allowed to play with.
Tio stuck his thumb in his mouth, suckled, smiled in his sleep and held Camo to his chest.
“You are too kind, Warren,” Billy told him. “You should treat Tio like Medium does.” With a nod to the Bugs Bunny cartoon on the telly, “show him the carrot, then take it away.”
Warren reacted inconsolably, crocodile tears streaming down his face, mixing with the peanut butter, quince paste, and breadcrumbs on his cheeks.
Beryl’s first inclination was to clean up Warren’s face. Warren? Was that his real name?
As the tears formed a small pool on the floor, she could recognise old Barry’s face sitting behind the child-like features.
“Maybe you’ve got some ice in the refrigerator. I can make an ice pack and try and cool his angry little face.”
“Refrigerator? I’m not sure if I have one?”
“Of course you do.”
I followed Beryl into the kitchen, and she opened up the sealed white box.
The bottles of the magic whisky were completely empty.
I panicked. I needed to get them out of here. I didn’t need to try hard.
“What the hell is this? Two bottles of whisky? In the fridge? That’s not exactly hiding them.”
Beryl swung around and punched me square on the nose, grabbed Barry/Warren and stormed out through the door.
With no magic whisky, what would happen now?
I went into the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Nothing had changed yet. Could I get some more whisky?
I really didn’t have a contact number for the aliens. I tried to remember how and why I’d got here in the first place.
Footsteps were coming up the path. It was Beryl and Warren/Barry again.
The whisky was starting to wear off and Warren was getting older by the second.
“What have you done to him? Look what’s happening to him.”
Before long, he’d returned to his full age and size, but was now, however, completely muted.
“Want some more popcorn?” Billy asked.
Warren nodded, opened his mouth. A cat was on his tongue. Gripping it with all its might — y mouse came on the telly.
“Cat got your tongue, eh? It happens.” Billy leaned in to Warren, who was now the size of his Tio Smillew. “This is sometimes called the house of horrors, and it’s wicked fun during Halloween, which lasts two months. Tia Carrie Ann is a — ”
“ — wonderful, kind person,” Katie interrupted. “Why is Tio Smillew in the house, and who is this guy? I leave for a week, and everything gets turned around and upside down. I have all the latest Medium stories. I’m not going to print them out for you anymore when I see the house in such a mess. What did you do to poor Ann James? No one is taking care of her. There were spider webs all over her face.”
“Tio Smillew moved in last night. And the spiders keep trying to get in the house. No one has been out the front door in a few days. We use the garage door.”
“And another thing, why is there a Batmobile in our driveway?”
“Really?!!” Billy and Warren jump up and go to the dining room window.
This is Part Four of our September Experiments in Creativity. You can read Part Three here:
