Humour

Hi all, here’s another little fiction gem, which I’m going to have trouble categorising. Write in with your suggestions (or, naturally, your complaints!) if you have any. Let’s go with humour. Enjoy!

Betty was nice, but it was Cathy he married. She knew what was best for him and insisted she could take better care of him. Betty moved in across the road, so they were neighbours anyway.

They all visited each other regularly. Sometimes he’d visit Betty, or Betty would visit Cathy, or Cathy would visit him, and so on. They had plenty of time for visits. One Sunday, the doorbell rang while he was with Betty. Unless he was with Cathy? There were two young men outside, each with identical smiles on their faces that reminded him of someone. “Hello, Father,” they said. His sons, of course. That’s why they looked familiar. And they were naked, and small, and bald. Possibly they had only this minute been born.

He was delighted, of course, but it did mean he was kept busy for a while. They didn’t look like Betty or Cathy, so he kept them secret. He named one Kentucky and one Tennessee, and paid a woman from town to come and be their wet nurse.

“Wouldn’t you like two strapping sons?” He’d ask Cathy, and she’d say she would, but she already had him, and he was all the cuteness she could handle.

“How about it, two fine young lads?” he’d say to Betty, and she’d squeal and tell him he was a very naughty man.

So he raised them both himself. It wouldn’t be fair to ask Cathy to look after Betty’s children, and it wouldn’t be fair to ask Betty to look after Cathy’s children. Once they were properly grown up, they looked just like him. One visited Cathy and one visited Betty, and he was free to move in with the woman from town who had been their wet nurse.

I like silver, isn’t that ridiculous? It doesn’t matter, silver isn’t anything special. Same as the full moon: I don’t change when the moon is full. I change when I change. Like now. I have my rainproof backpack, and enough warning to take my clothes off and pack them up neatly.

I’m in the park, going for my after-work jog, when I feel the ache. I get the sweats, then my bones ache, and then I better get naked pretty damn quickly if I don’t want to ruin my clothes.

My whole body is aching and I’m wondering if this is a good tree to hide my rucksack in. Plenty of cover, but it looks like all the others. Will I be able to find it again? I’ll have to hope so. This is the dangerous bit. I’m nude in Central Park, it’s getting dark and I’m not a wolf yet. If anyone sees me I’ll get raped, arrested, mugged or murdered.
I crumple at the base of the tree as everything stretches (well, not ‘everything,’ unfortunately). I change.

Look at that! There is a full-moon. That’s not going to help with stereotypes…. I lope into the trees. I don’t want anyone to see me until I’m well away from my tree. I’ve got brand new Nike kicks in the backpack, and I’ll be very annoyed if they’re gone in the morning. Near 110th Street is a playground. That’s where I’m heading. (I know what you’re thinking: those poor children, you monster!) But I want to make sure the park is empty first. No witnesses. The night is warm and I feel good. I can bench press 50, do 100 squats and plank for 30 minutes, but my human body never feels as good as this! I splash into the lake, get out, shake myself off.
There’s someone on the far side. Filming me. Come on! I’m as big as a bear and you’re not running?

Ha! They are now. There goes the phone. I bite through it. Probably not a good idea what with exploding batteries, but I feel so damn powerful. I let the wannabe photographer escape, screaming. Without the footage, nobody is going to believe him. This is New York. Nobody is even going to listen to him. I make my way over to the playground. Back in the day? Junkies and dealers hanging around, and try get those guys to run! Jesus! But that’s improved, at least. The playground is empty. I sniff, can smell rats. Lots of them. But I don’t worry about rats. I don’t eat them either. I don’t eat gluten; you think I’m going to eat a rat? A New York rat? Yeuch!
And here we go.

I jump on the swings. It’s hard to grab the chain properly, but I can hook my ‘wrists’ around them. The moon is right there and I’m going higher and higher. Man! This is awesome.
“Wheeee!”
It comes out a little different because I don’t have human jaws, but it’s so much fun. Higher, higher!
“Wheeeeeeereearrooooooohhh!!!”

Jamie puffed into his floatie. Air whooshed into the plastic like he was Darth Vader. The beach was warm but the sound caused gosebumps on his arms. The dinosaur had been packed away after their last holiday. Jamie had dug it out, when his parents weren’t watching. They were at a different beach, in a different country. Jamie had different swimming trunks, and his parents would have bought him a different floatie if he’d asked. But the only thing that made the holidays bearable was his dinosaur. He’d pulled it out of his backpack this morning. His mother’s lips had disappeared when she saw it, his father had shied back from the flattened wrinkles of Jamie’s brashly coloured T-Rex.

They sat behind him on the hotel’s branded loungers on the sand. Jamie took a break, inflating the dinosaur was hard work and if he took really big breaths, then it left him dizzy, like spinning around. His lips were tangy from the suncream his mother had smeared over him. The dinosaur stuck to his arms. It was taking shape, the monster’s round red eye looking excited.
Happy to be back.
“Good to have you back,” said Jamie.
“What’s that?” his father asked. Jamie ignored it. He didn’t have to explain himself to them. Not after last year. Occasionally someone walked by, usually another tourist. Didn’t the locals go to the beach?
Jamie kept puffing into the dinosaur. The plastic nozzle was built into the dinosaur’s leg and the dinosaur was now big enough to stand lop-sidedly, while Jamie knelt.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t like a new floatie, James?” But his mother’s question had the defeated air of one who already knew the answer.
“Don’t overinflate it or…,” his father warned.
As if.
His blood rushed through his ears, the same way air rushed intpo the dinosaur: J-Rex. The most fearsome animal to have ever lived. He took a break from watching the rise and fall of the plastic skin of the J-Rex to eye the people in the ocean.
Enjoy it while it lasts!

“It’s impolite to stare, James.” He wasn’t staring, he had called and called, and she hadn’t answered. She sounded sleepy, the way his parents always did on holidays. As if they felt the exhaustion of the bar staff who raced back and forth, bringing food and drinks, and drinks.
“Please! Can you help me onto my dinosaur?”
James had been on tiptoe, blowing into the magnificent beast. It had a sand-brown belly and a crocodile green colouring along it’s back and sides. A red slash for a mouth and those red eyes. It was twice as tall as his father and he couldn’t climb up, the plastic was too smooth. There was still air leaking through the nozzle. He needed to get onto the huge chicken drumstick-like leg, so he could continue inflating it. From there he could use the black plastic handles to get on its back.

His father pretended to wake, and lifted Jamie onto the dinosaur’s leg. “If you fall…,” he said. All of his father’s warnings ended without being finished. His parents fell asleep again fairly quickly. They didn’t hear the roar as Jamie closed the nozzle. Nor did they hear the screams of the swimmers, as he rode J-Rex into the waves, gobbling down people in gaily coloured holiday wrappings.
The beach was awash with blood and the police had sent a helicoptor, which J-Rex had also eaten, when it flew too close. The carnage had attracted sharks and killer whales and J-Rex had eaten those too. Now Jamie was hungry for chips and woke his parents. Besides it was surely only a matter of minutes before the army sent out a strike team, or perhaps deployed a tactical nuclear weapon to get rid of the holiday menace.

“Don’t stare!” His mother no longer sounded sleepy, but irritated. His father was worse. Jamie had ridden J-Rex back to their loungers and then slid down to the bloody chicken-drumstick leg and from thereto the ground.
Jamie helped her up and together they tugged his fther out of his lounger. They couldn’t walk and he couldn’t carry them back to the hotel, so he let them sit on the dinosaur’s tail and they rode back. Blowing the dinosaur’s cover, if anyone came looking.
Once his parents were in bed and definitely sleeping Jamie allowed himself one little swear.
“Every bloody year,” he said.

This is Captain >khrrrrrkh!<speaking. I’d like to welcome you on board flight >khrrrrkh!< today. Please make sure your seats are in the upright position and your tables stowed away as we will shortly departing for >khrrrrrrkh! <

Stars shot past on the screens. The captain was sure it was a looped image rather than footage from the cams. The cockpit was silent. “Time ’til destination?”
“Unknown sir,” a young woman answered. He stared at the screens. There! Was that the cut? The smooth scrolling had juddered for a split second.
He needed to do something, find out what they knew about the mission. The secrecy was idiotic, but it would be worse if they knew the truth…. “Bring up the destination on the screens,” he said. There was a pause.
“What is our destination, sir?” The young woman again. Her face impassive as she tapped at controls. The other crew members stared openly. They didn’t know.

“How far from the nearest friendly planet?” The crew members looked at each other. He’d said the wrong thing. He decided to brazen it out. “Where do you think we’re going, eh…?” He had no idea what her name was. “All of you! I want you to tell me where you think we’re going. And why.” They murmured. He noticed a tattoo crawling out of the sleeve of his uniform. The black of the design—concentric circles and spheres, a solar system, but which one?—was faded to a dusty blue-grey.
“Someone tell me what they think this mission is!” In the silence that followed, the electrical buzz of the controls and the rasp of tense breathing could be heard.
The woman stood up. “Sir, I have no idea where we’re going.” A red-headed man stood and said the same. Others nodded. The speakers spoke for them too.

The captain’s uniform was red with gold piping along the shoulders. “Anyone?” he asked. They waited. “I am the captain of this vessel. I think. Staring at the screens just a couple of minutes ago is the earliest memory I have. I have no idea where we’re going.” The woman started to laugh. Others joined in. Relief. The captain stood and went to the screen. “So why not just go…there!” He pointed.
“Yes sir,” said the woman. “As soon as I figure out how these controls work!” The crew hooted with laughter.
Outside the test ship, the scientists shook their heads. Man was not yet ready for warp drive.
But at least now they knew why it was called that.