“Extremely funny, but also suspenseful,” Candy Jones
“Funny, playful, tense, simply a brilliant book and truly fun to read,”
James Griffiths
THE MAN WHO HAD HIMSELF AS A PET
By K. S. Hurrell
Copyright K. S. Hurrell 2012
Smashwords Edition
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
CHAPTER ONE
(In which our brave hero experiences a terrible shock, encounters a tiny demon, and has two baths.)
There was a BANG and everything went black.
When Wally was capable of opening his eyes, everything was still back. He blinked and tried again: black. But he was conscious so he decided he must be dead. The light was dim and there was a strong smell of smoke. He could see very little, just huge dark masses with no familiar shape or form. He reached up and ran his hands over his face. It felt normal and his eyes were open. He flexed his legs and wiggled his toes. He did not seem to be hurt anywhere. He licked his dry lips and swallowed.
All around him was an eerie silence. And sitting next to him, smeared with soot was a small demon. A small demon that looked exactly like himself. That’s it, thought Wally, I am dead and I’m in Hell.
He tried to remember what had happened. How did he get here? Why did he get here? What had he done? But the last thing he could remember was bumping into Lily outside his flat. … . ah beautiful Lily with hair like silk and creamy skin . . . now he would never see her again because she assuredly would go to Heaven to be with the angels and … he was in Hell.
And anyway, Lily wasn’t dead.
Unless he had killed her. That wasn’t why he was here, was it?
He dredged his memory. Lily. When had he last seen her and what had he done? And like pieces of a jigsaw, fragments of his last movements came drifting back.
Lily had a smile like sunshine, even when he had made a complete fool of himself and slipped over in front of her, knocking her shopping across the floor, as the piece of (slightly burnt) toast he was carrying in his mouth landing in her open handbag as she searched for her door key. Oh god, maybe it was just as well he would never see her again.
He gave a sigh as he remembered how nice she had been;
“Goodness me, are you all right?” she’d asked, her voice full of genuine concern.
“Oops,” he had muttered, feeling himself growing hot. “I’m so sorry.”
He tried to retrieve his toast, but Lily pulled her handbag away abruptly. She obviously thought he was a bag snatcher, and would be in for a puzzling experience later. He contented himself with collecting her spilt shopping, enthusiastically picking up oranges, tomatoes, and a box of tampons . . . Why was he invariably such an idiot when Lily was about?
Because he was also an idiot when she was not about, he admonished himself.
He recalled that prior to the embarrassing Lily encounter, he’d had to have a cold bath because he’d become distracted and forgotten how long ago he’d run it. He was already late for work so did not have time to add more hot water, or make himself something decent for breakfast. Except his breakfast time was dinnertime for other people because Wally worked at night.
And Lily worked during the day so he only saw her when they passed in the hallway. He’d never had the courage to ask her out.
And now he never would. Because now he was here, awaiting a fate worse than death.
Wally gave a sigh and sat up. He looked at the demon, which was studying him closely. It blinked. Wally blinked. It blinked again, blotting out the small windows of white in a totally dark face.
Wally let his eyes rove over the demon. It was about a quarter of his size being approximately eighteen inches high, naked, except for a covering of soot, and er … perfectly formed. It was definitely humanoid. In fact, not only was it a fully mature humanoid male, it was an exact replica of Wally himself. Spooky! But who knew what to expect in Hell? He stared at the demon for a long time, braced for some hellish torment. The demon stared back.
Wally cleared his throat. “Are you me?” He asked at last. His voice sounded weird as if he were underwater.
“Am I you?” said the demon in reply; which gave Wally cause to wonder whether it a reduced mental capacity? Or perhaps it had trouble hearing Wally’s voice because it sounded as if he were underwater? The demon’s voice did too.
“Yes, are you me?” demanded Wally, wondering why he was even asking. Obviously the demon couldn’t actually be him if he was still able to reason. The thought then occurred that perhaps he had diminished mental capacity for even asking such a question. Or maybe the demon was just an embodiment of part of his soul?
“Are you an embodiment of part of my soul?” asked Wally.
“No I’m me.”
“Who are you then?”
“Me.” said the demon.
Wally thought about this. “Are you being deliberately obtuse?” he said.
“No.”
Perhaps this is what Hell is like – never getting a straight answer, thought Wally. He cleared his throat.
“Is this what Hell is like then, never getting a straight answer?”
“I wouldn’t know about that,” said the demon.
“Why wouldn’t you?”
“Because I’ve never been to Hell.”
“Aren’t you from Hell?” asked Wally wondering, even as the words left his mouth, why he asked that when he’d already been told the answer. I’m confused, he mused.
“No.”
“Aren’t you a demon?”
“No,” replied the non-talkative non-demon.
Wally let out a sigh of relief and let his whole, poor sore body relax. He wasn’t in Hell after all. Where was he then? He licked his lips and continued his interrogation.
“Where are we then? Not Heaven? And who are you?”
“I’m your clone.”
“My clone?” Wally gulped. Clone? Did such things really exist then? “Are you certain?”
Whatever it was, the creature was very sure of itself. “Yes. You cloned yourself and created me. As to where we are, you would be more aware of the geography of this dystopia than I.” said the clone, raising one eyebrow in a gesture wholly familiar to Wally because he did it on rare occasions when he was adopting a supercilious tone.
Wally scratched his head and tried to make sense of the situation. “So you are me?”
“No I’m me.”
“Oh don’t start that again,” said Wally. “I’m confused enough already. This is all very confusing.”
The clone cocked its head on one side. “Sorry. I am a replica of you,” it said. It seemed to consider something. “Only cleverer.” It added.
Wally considered being offended by this remark; after all, he was clearly being insulted, but decided to let it go. “That’s probably for the best,” he said humbly. “But how can you be sure?”
“I can’t. I was being funny. But your reply has definitely got me worried,” answered the clone dryly.
Wally grunted. He glanced round the room. It was still dark, but now his eyes had grown more accustomed, he was able to distinguish furniture and he suddenly remembered where he was. He was at work. Wally worked nights cleaning laboratories, although seeing the fire damage in this one, he doubted that the job would last much longer. He had no idea what the equipment was, why it was there or what it was used for. He just dusted, emptied the bins and swept the floor. He washed up any used coffee cups he came across. The money he earned from this was low but it kept body and soul together while he spent the days painting. He was twenty-eight years old and still awaiting the big break he deserved, when his skill and artistic talent would be discovered and recognized worldwide and his fortune would be made. Until that day arrived, he would continue to paint and earn his bread however he was able.
So, somehow, he had done something really incredible.
Really incredible.
By accident.
Because he had absolutely no recollection of how he had done it.
“So, where exactly did you come from?” He asked the clone.
The clone walked across the floor, leaving small, child sized footprints in the soot. It stopped in front of a machine that had formerly resembled a fridge. Wally had actually considered it to be a high tech refrigerator. There was a dial on the front of the door, which now hung from its hinges and a panel of what used to be colourful buttons on the side. Now just charred plastic. Wires protruded from it like whiskers. Crap! Wally thought. I hope it wasn’t too expensive.
“You’ve certainly buggered that,” said the clone.” My birthplace… ruined!”
“I did that?”
“Yes you did. All by yourself. Don’t ask me how.” The clone rubbed his nose.” I appeared out of the ashes like a phoenix. Quite a dramatic beginning I would say.”
Wally circled the remnants of the machine. He touched it gingerly. He wondered if there was any way he could clean up the mess and make it appear presentable.
“Do you think there’s any way we could clean this up?” he murmured, shocked.
“What and pretend you didn’t do it? I doubt it,” replied the clone in a rather derogatory tone, in Wally’s opinion.
“Hmmm. I suppose not,” agreed Wally, making a halfhearted attempt at pushing the wires back behind the dislodged panel. They popped straight back out.
“And anyway,” continued the clone, “what about the rest of the room? It’s covered with soot and you’ve no light because the power’s down.”
Wally stared at the clone. “The power’s down?”
“Haven’t I just said so?” said the clone, folding its arms.
Wally vaguely remembered tongues of flames leaping from the machine, and how he had panicked and thrown water on them …
“Oh god. I think I caused a short circuit. What else is damaged? Will they know it was me?”
“Probably. All the electric clocks have stopped …”
“At the time when they know I would have been cleaning. Oh my god …”
Wally began, then still not quite convinced the clone wasn’t really a demon trying to fool him into thinking otherwise, continued, “Goodness gracious me, this is appalling beyond belief.”
“Quite,” agreed the clone.
“I’ll lose my job. We’ll starve to death.”
“What do you mean ‘we’? Me too?”
“You too, if I’m responsible for you. That is, unless you can support yourself. I suppose I could sell you to a circus as a freak.”
“We could do a double act,” suggested the clone, unhelpfully. “Big freak and little freak. “
“Or I could sell you to a scientist for research.”
Wally thought for a moment, rubbing his forehead. This was all so weird. So totally weird. Was he dreaming? Or had he gone mad? Had there been some hallucinogenic gas expelled in the explosion? That would explain a great deal. He’d obviously had a blow to the head; maybe he was imagining this.
Wally looked down at the clone, which stood beside the calf of his leg. “Pinch me,” he commanded.
“Have you gone mad?”
“That’s what I’m trying to find out. OW!” He was awake then.
It was the clone’s turn to circle the machine. “How did you calibrate this thing anyway? And where did your DNA come from?” demanded the clone, its little hands on its hips.
“I have absolutely no idea,” confessed Wally.
“You must have some idea,” said the clone bossily.
“Well, I didn’t do anything consciously.”
“What did you do by mistake then?” asked the clone.
Wally bit his lip and tried hard to remember his actions immediately preceding the explosion. “I’m not sure. I was cleaning this machine, as usual, just gently with a damp cloth, you know, when I …” He cast his mind back and suddenly it all came back to him in a flash. “When I put my hand in a dish of that jelly stuff. I scraped it off and shook it and it landed on the controls. So then I had to clean them really thoroughly. I didn’t do anything wrong. Not really.”
“And did some of the jelly land inside the machine by any chance?” asked the clone.
Wally looked like a deer caught in the headlights. “A little bit might have,” he answered slowly.
“Hmmmm” said the clone. “That explains a great deal.”
“Well it might to you, brain box. It certainly doesn’t to me. I had no idea what this thing does. I thought it was a fridge or something.”
“You can’t be that ignorant.”
“I can be,” Wally defended himself. “I am … er hang on … I mean who are you to call me ignorant? What is your name, anyhow?”
“Wally, of course,” said the clone.
“But that’s my name.”
“But I am you.”
“Oh god! “ Wally sighed. He was tired of this difficult, argumentative Lilliputian person. He took a deep breath. “Well you will have to have a different name. How about Wally Two?”
“That’s stupid!”
“Why?”
“Because I am Wally too.”
“Aargh!” Wally could imagine the veins in his neck swelling as he tensed in frustration.
“Okay, okay.” The clone considered. “What about Tolly?”
“I suppose,” said Wally, too tired to argue. His head ached. His throat felt like sandpaper and his mouth was as dry as a desert. He wanted to get out of this nightmare. In actual fact, as far as names for the clone went, any moniker would do. But Wally and Tolly? It sounded … it sounded moronic.
“Look, I just want to go home,” said Wally. “I don’t feel well. My whole body hurts and I’ve probably lost my job…”
“And you’re covered in soot,” added Tolly. “And your hair in singed. You look a mess.”
Wally raised his eyes heavenward. “Cheers mate.” He paused for a moment. “Well you’re naked.”
The clone glanced down at his own soot-covered naked body and conceded this fact with a nod. Then said, “You’re most likely concussed. So what’s the plan?”
“The plan is: we go home. I’ll figure out what to do with you later when I’ve had some sleep …”
“Sorry, I can’t let you sleep.”
“What?”
“I can’t let somebody who has concussion sleep. It would be asking for trouble,” said Tolly.
“It will be asking for trouble if you don’t let me,” replied Wally vehemently. “Trust me.”
“You made me. It’s my duty to watch out for you.”
Wally tried to straighten his thoughts. What had he done? How did he create a creature that could be this annoying? And then another thought occurred to him. A thought so complicated and beyond his comprehension, that he would have to come back to when he felt better: did God feel like this? Were humans this annoying and bossy and pestering?
“You know, you are becoming really annoying and you should be careful. I made you, that’s true. But no one else knows about you yet. No one. I could kill you right now; dispose of your remains and nobody would know or care. Is that clear?”
“As crystal,” said Tolly, closing his mouth firmly and adopting the posture Wally recognized as his own when he did not want to volunteer for something.
Wally sniffed and rubbed his sore eyes. Leaving the building would not be without problems, he decided. There were security cameras at regular intervals along the walls of the corridors. Whether they were still operating due to the power failure he had caused, he did not know but he could not take the risk. There would certainly be questions if Tolly were discovered; explanations demanded; that sort of thing. He had to look as if he was by himself when he left.
He stumbled round the dim laboratory until he located his trolley of cleaning equipment and rummaging around, found just what he needed. A black plastic bin liner.
Tolly gulped. “Please don’t,” he gasped.
“Don’t …?”
“Please don’t suffocate me.”
“I’ve got to hide you. I can’t just walk out of here with a miniature naked man, can I? Besides, it would be like exposing myself on camera. Get in the bag. I won’t seal the top. You’ll be able to breathe.”
Tolly obeyed and got in. Wally slung the bag over his shoulder and made for the door of the laboratory.
Outside in the corridor, the lights were still working. The glare made him wince.
“Shit! I’m cooked!” he muttered. He walked steadily to the exit, trying to look nonchalant and bid goodnight to the security guard.
“Goodnight Bob.” said Wally, hoping his sooty demeanour and singed hair wouldn’t be noticed.
“You all right mate? You look a bit worse for wear,” answered Bob, his voice full of concern. He had a mug of steaming tea, which Wally fancied unreservedly. The first thing he would do, when he arrived home, Wally decided, would be to put the kettle on. Yes, and he was hungry too.
“Yeah. Slight accident. Nothing serious. Got to get home and rest up.”
“Okey dokey then, mate. See you tomorrow.” He took a bite of a sandwich, the sight of which made Wally’s mouth water, and settled down contentedly to read his book.
The cold night air hit Wally as he reached the car park. He surrendered to a spasm of coughing as he tried to rid his lungs of the inhaled smoke. The bag on his shoulder swayed and bumped against his back.. His eyes began to sting and tears gushed down his cheeks. The sky was clear and the moon, like a baby’s fingernail clipping glowed with pearly light.
“You still okay?” he whispered to the bag.
“I’m fr…frozen.”
Wally considered that cold weather was not without its compensations.
Walking across the tarmac, he dumped the bag on the ground as he started his scooter.
“Ow!” came a muffled voice from within.
The noise of him kick-starting his moped shattered the silence. He picked up the bag containing Tolly and put it behind him on the seat. He used his belt to secure it. He certainly didn’t want the bag falling off, to be discovered in the morning, possibly by some inquisitive paper deliverer, to contain a perfect and pornographic miniature of himself.
“Hold on to me somehow,” he ordered.” And stop moaning. You’re a grown man not a child.” Feeling slightly better, he chuckled to himself at this and drove home.
Once indoors, the first thing Wally did was put the kettle on. Then he went to wash the soot off his hands … er … his face …er all of him. It was true he did look a fright when he glanced in the mirror. His face was black with soot, as was his hair and clothes, so he had a nice hot bath.
He shouted to Tolly. “Come here you black demon and clean yourself up.”
There was no reply. Then Wally remembered he’d left Tolly strapped to he pillion seat of the scooter. Oops!
It was a very subdued, extremely cold Tolly that Wally rescued from the parking bay at the block of flats. But rather a whiney one.
“I could have frozen to death,” complained Tolly.
“Yeah, sorry. I forgot I had you with me. Mea culpa.”
“I was trapped. Unable to move! And I could hear wild animals prowling around. I could have been eaten alive.”
“Only for the first bit,” said Wally, “Or should I say ‘first bite’?”
“What?”
“Well you wouldn’t feel anything once you were dead and you’d be dead eventually, if something were eating you.”
“Something? You mean an animal?” checked Tolly.
“Yes, or a cannibal,” said Wally. “But he might be a bit fussy about the state of you. You’re covered in soot, you know.” He paused. “Mind you, so are char-grills. Anyway, come and have a bath. I have it all ready for you. The water’s a bit sooty, as I’ve already had a bath in it. And it’s probably a bit cold by now, come to think of it but a bath is most definitely the best thing for you right now.”
Tolly eyed him suspiciously. “Why?”
“Because if you don’t get clean, you’ll get soot all over my flat. And because I want to look at you properly.”
Tolly looked appalled. “To see where I’m meatiest? This is like being in a horror story. Captured by a giant and eaten.”
“You’re so over-dramatic. I do not intend to eat you. I’d much rather make use of you as a slave,” said Wally.
“A slave?”
“Yes,” continued Wally, warming to the idea. “I’d say ‘go and make some tea, Tolliver’ and you’d say ‘yes sir’. That sort of thing.”
They had reached the front door at this point. Wally opened it and pushed Tolly inside just as the door opposite opened and Lily appeared on the landing in her dressing gown. She looked extremely clean, and stunningly beautiful as usual..
“Are you all right?” she asked. She frowned. “Are you alone?”
“Yes.” That was a close shave, thought Wally.
“Only I thought I heard voices,” she said, glancing round the hallway.
“No. I’m totally alone. Just me. By myself.”
“Were you talking to yourself then?”
Wally hesitated. “Yes.”
“In different voices?”
“Er …yes. To make it more fun, you know.”
“No, I don’t know.” She looked confused.
I think I’ve blown it, thought Wally.
“One more thing,” said Lily, holding something out to him. “Is this your toast?”
Wally’s heart dropped and he felt himself redden. He’d definitely blown it.
“Thank you very much, Lily. Yes it is. Goodnight.”
CHAPTER ONE AND A HALF
(In which our noble scientists discover a dreadful calamity and foul espionage.)
The electrician had located the source of the power cut quite rapidly. It was simply a short circuit and easily dealt with. Every piece of apparatus, except one, was now restored to working order.
But Dr. Ledbetter was confused. He walked around his laboratory biting his thumbnail and frowning. He studied his decimated machine despondently. How could this have happened? He shook his head.
“This must be the work of saboteurs,” he said sadly.
“You think we have rivals in this field who wish to prevent us reaching our goal?” asked his assistant, Edward Page, removing his glasses from his nose and cleaning polishing the lenses.
“Someone has done this deliberately.” Dr. Ledbetter indicated the melted plastic and the dislocated door. It could not be an accident. “This saboteur,” he exclaimed with feeling, “this vandal knew exactly how to disable the machine. It will take us months of work to recalculate the calibrations so far.” He looked at Page suspiciously.
“But our calibrations did not work,” remarked Page reasonably.” We would have to recalculate anyway.” He approached the mangled apparatus and chewed his cheek. He noted the different positions of the levers and buttons. There was no logical connection to their placing. “These levers look as if they have been moved at random.”
“But whoever did this managed to break the machine,” said Ledbetter. “And at the same time short circuit all the electrics so they couldn’t be traced. This is the work of a mastermind, not an amateur.”
“Who was the last person here?” asked Page. “We might be able to work out what might have happened. The clock stopped when the power did so who was here at that time?” Both pairs of eyes turned towards the clock on the wall, which had only started to work again a few minutes earlier. It still registered the time from the previous evening plus a few minutes.
“Well, I suppose the last person here yesterday was the cleaner,” said Ledbetter. “But he’s an idiot. He couldn’t scupper his way out of a paper bag, let alone create chaos of this magnitude.” The grey haired academic suddenly slapped his forehead with his palm. “Wait a minute, it was all a front. He was a spy for the enemy all along. It was he. It was he I tell you. We were fooled by his deprecating manner. I knew no one could really be that gormless. The sly dog!”
“I think you may be being a bit overdramatic here, talking about spies and the enemy. Are you sure it couldn’t have been an accident?”
Dr. Ledbetter’s colour deepened to purple as his anger increased. “An accident? An accident is knocking over some tea, or dropping a jar. This is far beyond an accident.”
This theory seemed far-fetched to Page, but he knew when to keep quiet. He put his hands in his pockets and walked round the room. It was only the machine that was damaged, he noticed. Whereas it was true that everything was covered in a thin film of soot, all other apparatus was intact. He came to an abrupt halt.
“Hey, come and look. There are some footprints here, sort of.”
Dr Ledbetter marched grumpily round the bench to where Page was standing. “Now we’re on to something … someone …what on earth?”
They both stared at the footprints left in the soot. Small footprints, like a child’s, only not childlike somehow.
Dr. Ledbetter began to laugh maniacally.
CHAPTER TWO
(In which our hero contemplates the advantages of murder, and commits an abominable faux pas.)
When Wally awoke the following morning he thought he’d had a terrible dream. Then he saw a smaller version of himself next to him on the bed and realized that he was still having it. He pinched himself but found he wasn’t asleep, unless he was dreaming about pinching himself.
He rubbed his eyes. He thought about letting out a primal scream but in the end he just said,
“Oh my god.”
This truly was a nightmare. What did one do in a situation like this? He doubted anyone had ever been in a situation like this anyway. Unless … he glanced at the pillow. One quick way out would be to … no he couldn’t. Could he? Perhaps people had been in this situation like this and dealt with it speedily and secretly and that’s why he had never heard of anyone being in circumstances like this before.
Only that would make him a murderer. Or would it? Because he would be killing himself. But he would still be alive so technically it wouldn’t be suicide. So … clonicide? Nobody would ever know.
He would know. And he would feel like a murderer.
And he would have to dispose of the body somehow.
But it wasn’t an especially big body. It could be done.
He decided to make some tea.
Three cups of tea later Wally was still taking stock of his situation. His life, which had never been terrific, had certainly taken a turn for the worse, if not surreal, during the past twenty-four hours.
This time yesterday he had had a job, lowly though it was but now he was most likely unemployed, if not facing prosecution for malicious criminal damage.
Yesterday his relationship with Lily had been benign but now she considered him nuts because she believed he had been talking to himself in different voices, and had put toast in her handbag.
In addition, he now had a secret. He had to keep Tolly hidden at all times from everybody for the rest of his life. Bah! A thousand bahs! And what’s more Tolly was really annoying.
Just then Tolly padded in and stood beside the kitchen table where Wally sat morosely sipping tea. Tolly did not even reach the tabletop.
“Good morning”, said Tolly, cheerfully. “What are you doing?”
“Wallowing in despair,” grunted Wally. He frowned. “For god’s sake go and put some clothes on; it’s quite off putting seeing you parading around naked. It’s worse somehow now you’re clean. More rude.”
“I haven’t got any clothes, stupid, have I? And anyway I want some tea. I always have some first thing to get me going.”
“You’ve never had a first thing before. You don’t know what you’re talking about there.” Wally paused. “And don’t call me stupid,” he added.
Tolly smiled amiably. “This is my very first first thing and I think we should make an occasion of it. A sort of toast to a long and happy relationship. So you should be nice to me.”
“I am being nice by not killing you.”
“Why are you so grumpy in the mornings?”
“Why aren’t you? If you are the same as me, we would both have the same mood.”
Tolly pushed out the side of his cheek with his tongue, a mannerism all the more annoying because Wally knew he did it himself.
“Can I have some tea please?” asked Tolly reasonably.
Wally took pity, got up and rummaged around for a smallish cup. After filling it with tea, he handed it to the diminutive man. Then he took a tea towel and draped it over Tolly, like a toga. Tolly looked decidedly unimpressed.
“Thanks,” said Tolly in a tone that sounded distinctly ungrateful.
“There’s some things we need to discuss,” said Wally, sitting down again.
Tolly nodded. “I definitely need some clothes.”
“Yes I know. But there is something we need to discuss. We are going to have to live together and it would be much more pleasant for both of us if we can be civil to one another.”
“And if I had some proper clothes, not a filthy tea towel,” said Tolly. He pulled a corner out fastidiously with thumb and forefinger.
“It’s not…” Wally realized it was.
“I can’t be civil in this. How would you feel if you had to wear it?”
Wally sighed. He felt tired suddenly and thought that if Tolly were a dog, he’d be an annoying one. And then, in a flash he mentally re-categorized Tolly as a pet .He would need looking after, as a pet would. That meant food, clothing …hang on a minute, pets didn’t wear clothes, unless you counted those little jackets people put on dogs … and exercise …
“Run round the living room a couple of times will you?” he said.
Tolly looked astounded. “Do What?”
Wally watched him as he took a sip of tea. It was reminiscent of having to sip tea from a bucket
He would have to be kept clean. Well, he could do that himself, and oh god what if he were ill? How would he explain to a doctor? Wally put his head in his hands and groaned.
“What’s wrong?”
Wally had his head resting on the table. “We’re really in the shit,” he said.
“How so?”
“Because as long as you’re alive, you have got to be kept hidden. If we go public, even once, we’ll open a can of worms that we’ll never be able to control.”
Tolly considered this. “I think I get your point but I didn’t like the as long as you’re alive bit.”
“What I mean is that if you’re ill we can’t get a doctor to you; if you’re in a serious accident you’re … toast.”
“Why?”
Wally felt frustrated at having to explain the obvious. “Oh come on. It’s obvious isn’t it? If scientists hear so much as a whisper of this, of you, you’ll become a research project and they’ll probably dissect you. I wouldn’t care that much,” added Wally, “except they’ll probably dissect me as well.”
“They won’t want to dissect you. Or me.”
“Oh yes they will. For example, I’ve had my appendix out. They’ll want to see if you still have yours. I’d be quite interested myself, for that matter.”
“You’re not allowed to,” said Tolly, a hint of panic in his voice. He checked his abdomen for a scar and found that there wasn’t one. He gulped. “You have to have a license to cut up living creatures, you know.”
“And what are you? You’re not and animal, and not really human –“
“That hurts, Wally, it really does!” He sniffed. “Personally, I think you’re being over dramatic. But just to be on the safe side, I’ll remain hidden. And I need a disguise for emergencies.”
Wally took a deep breath and scratched his head.
“So we need a plan. You’ll have to have a place to hide if anyone comes to the door. I’m sure we can fix that.”
“And I need some clothes.”
Wally began to lose patience. “Look if someone comes in, clothes are not going to help. You’re a midget and they’ll want to know where you came from.”
“At least I wouldn’t be an obscene midget.”
Wally stood up and perused the room. He walked around, studying the old fashioned furniture, as he’d never done before. He’d inherited the flat from his aunt and never really recognized its potential. He’d just moved in and lived there, grateful for a roof over his head. His living costs were low: he ate little, had no television and few kitchen appliances. It had never occurred to him to clear out the stuff that had belonged to his Aunt and he’d never even looked in half the cupboards. Now that he was looking for a hiding place for an obscene midget, he began to appreciate the architectural design of the thirties. He also realized what a mess the place was in. There were dirty half empty cups on nearly every flat surface. There were tins of paint and canvasses all over the room, which was generously dotted with dirty paint-smeared rags. And he’d never dusted, ever.
“Hmmm.”
“You need to tidy up a bit,” said Tolly.
Wally grunted and put his hands on his hips. “Yeah, okay. But you can help O.M. and then we can think of a hiding place.”
“O.M.?”
“Obscene Midget.”
Tolly paused. Then he beamed and said, “I like that. I like that better than Tolly, which is a stupid name.”
Wally’s grin was broader. “So do I.”
“Om, even?”
Wally pondered this. “It makes it easier to say, definitely. And is conveniently cough- like if I need to warn you quickly.”
Om held out a diminutive hand. Wally slapped it.
“Yes!”
They set about tidying the room in companionable silence, both of them putting things in their correct places. It seemed strange to Wally that Tolly didn’t need to be told where to put things; he already knew, of course, because he wasn’t a guest or a stranger, but was the same as Wally himself. He had the same knowledge. The same abilities, the same likes and dislikes. It would take some getting used to.
Wally was not sure what was in all the cupboards. They were as formidable as his aunt Molly had been approachable. Wally had liked her and visited often but he’d never looked inside the furniture, which would have been highly discourteous in somebody else’s home. He had been shocked when she’d passed away and surprised and grateful when he heard that she had left him the flat with the expressed hope that he continue with his painting. It was a relief tinged with sadness. But he was undoubtedly grateful.
Good old Aunt Molly. He had once painted a portrait of her while he was an art student and she had paid him. It must have been a gesture to help him financially as he had never seen the finished portrait again. It had certainly never graced the walls of the flat. He assumed it had simply not been good enough, although, at the time of completion, he had believed it competent and had been immensely proud. Now the memory of it came flooding back.
“Perhaps that portrait of Aunt Molly is here somewhere,” he remarked.
“I doubt it would be hidden away in the living room. More than likely stored in a bedroom.” Tolly continued picking up the paint flecked rags and frowned at a stain on the carpet.
Wally glanced at Tolly. Whereas it was true that he didn’t have to bend far to pick up from the floor, every time he did so, the back of the tea towel parted, revealing Om’s bare bottom. It was most disconcerting.
“You definitely do need some er … clothes,” remarked Wally. “I wonder if I could make you some. Maybe there’s an old sewing machine around here.”
Wally could hardly believe Om’s reply. It was such a complete reversal from their conversation only a few minutes earlier.
“I need a hiding place more. And I don’t want crappy old clothes made by you, thanks very much.”
Slightly hurt at the rebuffal of what he considered to be kind offer, Wally coughed and picked the last of the rags up himself.
There was a large, heavy carved chest against the wall, beneath the window.
“If we cleared this,” said Wally, “I’m sure it would make an excellent hiding place.”
“Make sure it’s not a commode.”
“Do you mean that in the French sense or the English one? I know what you’re thinking and it isn’t. Molly had all her faculties right to the end, you know that. Who has commodes in the form of a trunk anyway? It would have to be a bath commode.”
“What’s in it, then?” asked Tolly, standing on tiptoe to peer into the top
“Stuff.”
“Obviously. What sort of stuff?”
“Some books, papers, some old letters. It probably needs throwing away. Go and get a rubbish bag, Om and I’ll do it now.”
Om shook his head. “No, don’t just throw it all away. We should sort through it. You never know, some of that might be important. But that can wait. If I am to hide in there, though, you need to make it accessible to me. I can’t just lift the lid and hop in, you know. And I’d suffocate because there are no air holes.”
“It would be a crime to drill holes in this detailed carving,” said Wally, running his fingers over the pleats and oak leaves in the wood. There were acorns too and small birds. He bit his lip. “But needs must. And I could put a cat-flap in the front so that you could get in.”
“Can we make it comfy inside?”
“Yeah. I’ll put a saucer of water in there. And some straw.”
“Straw! What do you think I am?”
“A pet.” Wally chuckled.
But Om was clearly not amused. “It’s bad enough having to hide in a trunk, without you making a joke of it. How humiliating is it for me to crawl through a cat flap? I’m the same as you, only smaller. THE SAME AS YOU, Wally. Except all the things you take for granted I can’t have. I have no power, no choice, no decent clothes, no sex life …”
“Well I don’t have any decent clothes or a sex life either.”
“Good!”
Wally swallowed. He felt bad. He had totally overlooked the possibility that Om had feelings. It wasn’t Om’s fault he existed. The fact that he did was a nuisance to Wally but he should not have made fun of him as he had done. He was a bully.
“You’re nothing but a bully,” said Om, evidently sensing that he briefly had the upper hand.
“You’re right and I’m sorry.” An awkward pause followed. “I really am sorry.”
“It’s like being a child, having no control,” said Om petulantly. “Like being the victim in a horror story.”
“Yes, I can understand that.” Wally forced a smile. “Well, anyway, this trunk won’t do as a hiding place. We’ll find somewhere better and we’ve got to be craftier.”
Tolly was too busy talking to listen. “It’s terrible having no power and no choice of what you do; treated like a child all the time, having no control over what happens in your own life …”
“All right, what are you? A broken record? I said I’m sorry. No need to go over the top. To locate a hiding place is of paramount importance right now. Concentrate, will you?”
Tolly ran across the room to the opposite wall. “What if …” began Tolly, warming to the challenge, “what if we put a cat flap on the front of that cupboard so that I can get in, and hollow a sort of tunnel out of the wall that goes through to the bedroom so I can hide in there.”
“That’s my bedroom!”
“So?”
“What if I were entertaining ladies?”
“Self, self, self with some people isn’t it? Anyway, I thought you just said you had no sex life!”
“The idea is good but let’s make it a different room. This is a big flat. There’s another room through there,” said Wally, indicating the opposite wall.
“I know that don’t I?”
“We can move furniture around. That big dresser could go against that wall. We could make the tunnel, like you suggested, and you could have a hiding place in that room. We could make it very comfortable.”
Tolly considered this carefully. “Okay. Let’s go in and see where I could hide.”
They marched purposefully into the next room and looked round. It was gloomy but furnished as a sitting room. There was a dingy sofa in front of the window and two armchairs. In the corner was a heavy looking bookcase. The only other piece of furniture was a small table with a lamp on it. Wally never used this room, and judging by the musty smell, neither had his aunt.
“It smells like it’s haunted,” remarked Tolly.
“It’s just not used much. That’s exactly what you want really –somewhere people don’t go much.”
“I suppose. And if you bring in a big box, I could make my real hiding place in there, in case of emergencies.”
Wally went back into his living room and studied the wall. He banged on it a couple of times and judged it to be quite solid. He would need a hammer and chisel then to make a hole. Then he went to the old dresser and pulled out the contents of the bottom cupboard onto the floor. He felt the back. That too was quite solid. He would need a sturdy saw. It would be hard work, but he was actually unemployed now, as he dared not show his face back at the laboratory. He could work until the escape route was complete. He could work through the night if necessary.
“If I am to do this, I need to go out and buy some tools. Will you be all right?”
“I will unless you’re burgled in which case I’d be kidnapped, held for ransom and probably tortured.” Tolly stared at him so steadily as he said this that Wally wasn’t sure if he was joking or not.
“The intruders would think they had accidentally taken drugs if they saw you.” Wally paused, glanced at Tolly, once more registering his nakedness, and frowned. “I’ll get you some clothes as well. I’ll leave straight away.”
It was a relief for Wally to be by himself for a while. He felt free and temporarily unburdened. He breathed deeply of the traffic fume laden air as he walked along the pavement of the town centre.
It was easy enough to locate a D.I.Y. store and purchase the necessary tools to tunnel through a wall. They were big, no nonsense tools that would be used by hard, no nonsense men and he felt proud to buy them. He straightened his shoulders and was sure he could feel his biceps swelling as he left the shop. After about fifty metres his arms began to ache. Then he wondered if the suspension on his scooter would give up the ghost under the weight of the load.
And he realized at this point in time that he should have gone to buy clothes for Tolly before he bought cumbersome tools.
Well, the clothes wouldn’t weigh much so they would hardly add to the load on the scooter.
But would the tools be safe strapped to the scooter while he was in the shop buying the clothes? Tolly had been, but that had been at night in a deserted parking lot, not a busy street.
While he was contemplating all this, a cheerful voice behind him said,
“Hello, Wally. Want a lift home?”
He turned to see Lily smiling radiantly. Beautiful Lily. Smiling just for him. He felt all his troubles vanish as he smiled back.
“Hello Lily.” He knew he was grinning like a monkey but his expression was frozen and he couldn’t change it. He couldn’t speak, such was his delight
“Would you like one?” she asked, raising her eyebrows.
Oops. What had Lily offered? A mint? A hug? A … no he didn’t know her well enough for that.
“A … a coffee?” he ventured.
“No, a lift. But I suppose we could go for a coffee if you’re desperate for one.” She seemed puzzled.
“Oh no. Sorry. I didn’t mean … yes, a lift would be fantastic. Thanks.”
Then he remembered that he couldn’t accept a lift. He had his scooter with him. Shit. And he hated having to admit to owning a scooter, especially to Lily who was so cool and owned a car. He doubted she’d be seen dead with a guy who rode a scooter.
Wally was aware that two choices now lay open to him. He could admit to owning the scooter and look like a total loser. Lily would drive home and he would eventually arrive there, on a scooter groaning under the weight of the tools, and without the clothes for Tolly. And it looked as though it were about to rain.
Or he could pretend he did not have the scooter with him, get the lift home with the heavy tools and without the clothes for Tolly and tomorrow catch a bus back into town so that he could pick up his scooter and buy clothes for Tolly.
Either way, he would have to forget about the clothes for Tolly. The little chap would be disappointed but that couldn’t be helped.
On the other hand, and this was a major drawback, he was standing next to his scooter and he couldn’t get the tools unless he told the truth or Lily would think he was stealing tools from somebody else’s scooter and that was even more dreadful than actually owning one. And Lily already thought he was a thief from when he’d tried to retrieve his toast from her handbag. God, he had such a headache. He rubbed his forehead and groaned.
“Are you all right?” asked Lily, her voice full of concern.
“Yes thanks. It’s just that I’ve got a thumping headache and … and …”
“And?”
It was time to bite the bullet. “And a scooter.” There. He’d confessed it.
“What?”
“I have a scooter. Of my very own. Sorry.”
“What? Here?”
“Er …yes. Right here as a matter of fact.” He moved to one side and revealed the machine standing behind him. “I forgot,” he added sheepishly.
Lily looked astonished. “Goodness, you do need a coffee. Come on. We’ll go to the café over there and have some. And some toast too if you want.” She chuckled, her cheeks dimpling prettily and he guessed she was referring to item she’d found in her handbag.
Wally manoeuvred the heavy bag of tools off the bike and across the road to a café with a welcoming air. They found an empty table in the centre of the room and he sat down opposite Lily. He could feel his heart beating extremely quickly but wasn’t sure whether it was excitement at being close to Lily, or from his exertions with the heavy bag of tools. Admiring her big green eyes, he wished he could paint a portrait of Lily. He basked in her company, all be it temporary.
“I’ll get the drinks. Want some hot chocolate?” he asked. He was enjoying himself immensely.
“That would be great, thanks. But I can get them.”
“Absolutely not. I will. That is if you can look after my bag of tools while I go to the counter?” He doubted anyone could actually steal such a weighty bag and make a run for it, and if they did, whether Lily would be able to stop anybody that strong.
He ordered two mugs of hot chocolate. He came back to the table twice, first to ask Lily if she wanted whipped cream, and then if she wanted grated chocolate sprinkled on top. He was proud to make the unnecessary trips. He felt possessive of Lily. He hoped people would notice what a totally gorgeous girl he was with.
“I have some aspirin in my bag, if you want some,” she offered, once he had sat down opposite her.
He sipped his drink. “That’s very kind of you but I’ll be okay. This hot chocolate will help. Actually, Lily, there is something you could do for me. Could you possibly take these tools home in your car? I think they may be too heavy for the scooter.”
“Of course. You know, I think it’s great that you have a scooter and not a car. It’s so typical of you.”
“Is it?” He was stunned. Things were going really well.
She continued. “You’re so environmentally friendly. You wear old clothes and don’t care and well, just use old things I suppose.”
Wally wondered if Lily heard his crest fall. “I suppose so. You like that?”
“Oh yes, it’s really quite endearing. Not for everybody, but I admire you for it. You do your own thing.”
He sighed. Perhaps things weren’t going that well after all.
“Your head still bad?” she asked.
“It’s okay,” he answered glumly, aware that he sounded far from okay.
“What are you planning to do with all these tools then? It looks to me as if you’re planning a gaol break.”
He laughed weakly. She was a bit too near the mark. “No just a couple of minor er … renovations.” He nervously gulped down some hot chocolate, burning his mouth slightly as he did so.
“Do you have more shopping to get?”
“Yes. But I’ll carry this bag to your car first. It’s much too heavy for a lady and you must promise me not to try and move it yourself.”
“What a gentleman!” she exclaimed,
Wally wasn’t sure if he was being complimented. “Is that good?” he asked hopefully.
She beamed at him. “Yes. And it suits you. You mustn’t be afraid to be yourself, you know. You don’t have to impress anyone.”
But I do, he thought. I have to impress you.
Lily acted as though he were her best friend. “So what else do you have to buy? Do you need any feminine advice?”
“Well …” he hesitated. It could be awkward having Lily around while he bought small clothes. What excuse could he make? On the other hand he wanted to extend this time with her, and she seemed to want to be with him, didn’t she? But the advice was definitely out.
“Er … I probably don’t need advice but …” he studied her face, trying to judge by her reaction if she really wanted to be with him, “that’s not to say the company would be unwelcome.” Now he’d blown it. He couldn’t possibly buy clothes for Tolly when Lily was with him. He jerked anxiously as he put down his cup, causing the table to wobble. Lily’s drink toppled over and hot brown liquid spilled into her lap and splashed over her jumper.
“Oops!” Wally was horrified. He jumped up and made a futile attempt to mop up the mess with a paper napkin. Without thinking, he also started to dab Lily’s jumper. She backed away, looking annoyed. Extremely annoyed.
“Oh god! I’m so sorry, Lily. I didn’t mean to touch your breasts. Er …” Now he sounded like a total sleaze. His endearing persona had disappeared.
Lily coughed and stood up. “Actually, I might just push off home now. I have stuff to do. Shall we go?” she said tersely.
How could everything have gone so awry so quickly? It was as if some giant hand had turned the kaleidoscope of his life and changed the picture for the worse. He stood and picked up the hefty bag of tools and followed Lily disconsolately out of the café to the car park. The bag seemed to grow heavier and heavier as they headed silently for Lily’s car. He heaved it into the boot.
“Thanks, Lily. I’m very grateful, you know.”
“Thank you for the hot chocolate,” said Lily, primly. She climbed into her car and drove off without waving, or so much as a backward glance, leaving Wally alone and glum standing in the parking lot.
Deep in thought, he eventually wandered into Babycare where he immediately felt out of place. Nearly everyone else was female and either pushing a pram or trailing a toddler. Small clothes abounded; cute dungarees with trains and boats on them, tiny t-shirts emblazoned with chicks or corny slogans. It was embarrassing just to look at them. There was nothing here that any self-respecting male of any age would voluntarily wear.
And there were definitely no underpants. The sexy midget would have to go commando.
And then, as he passed a display of potties, he gulped as another problem reared its ugly head.
“Hmmm,” Wally sighed to himself.
Trying to look inconspicuous, he rummaged through racks of diminutive clothing until, joy of joys; he came across a small pair of jeans that looked about right.
“Hallelujah!” he muttered to the security guard standing next to him.
He felt himself redden as realisation rushed over him.
“I’m not a shoplifter,” said Wally in dismay.
“You are acting very covertly,” said the security guard. He was a big chap with a walkie-talkie on his belt.
“I know.” Wally decided to come clean. “It’s just that I feel embarrassed to be in here buying … things,” he confessed.
“Well, how do you think I feel having to work here?” said the security guard.
“Bummer.” Wally felt he had found an ally.
“You got kids, then?” asked the security guard.
“No,” said Wally emphatically. “That is to say, I’m buying stuff for somebody else.”
“Well I didn’t think you were going to wear it.” The guard chuckled.
Wally laughed hollowly, fully aware that in a way, a strange, beyond-the- imagination-of-most-people way, he was going to wear these small cutsie clothes. He shuddered. He wondered what he would look like in a babygro’.
“At least it’s a job,” sighed Wally, bonding with another male. “I’ve just been sacked.”
The security guard slapped him on the back and smiled sympathetically. “Bad luck, mate.” He hesitated. “Look, there might be an opening here, if you think you could bear it. You’re a bit on the slight side but that shouldn’t really be a problem. We could go and have a word with the manager right now.”
Wally swallowed. Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was the turn of the kaleidoscope but things were certainly going downhill fast at the moment. In the space of less than a day, his home life had become unbelievably complicated; he’d lost his job and completely scuppered his chances with Lily. But he had to eat, he had to pay the bills, he had to buy equipment so that he could paint and petrol so he could escape from the angry scientists when they realized it was he who had totalled their expensive machine and came after his blood.
He coughed. “Okay. Lead on.”
Eventually Wally arrived home. He felt knackered.
Tolly ran up, eager to see him, like an excited dog, but Wally was too tired to be amused. He flopped onto the sofa.
“Did you get the stuff?” asked Tolly. If he’d had a tail, Wally thought, it would have been wagging.
“What?” asked Wally.
“The stuff. My clothes. Tools. Did you get it all?” He was still wearing the tea towel, only now it was round his waist, like a kilt.
“Yes.” Wally sighed. He had a sudden sympathy for parents. Were children like this? If so, he didn’t think he wanted any. Ever.
“Well can I see it?” demanded Tolly.
“Just give me a minute to recover, will you?” He also began to wonder if wives were like this. The relentless interrogation seemed reminiscent of his mother speaking to his father. So, marriage was out of the question also.
Tolly tutted and paced the room a couple of times. He drew a deep breath and Wally felt a whingeing session was in the air. Do I whinge, he wondered, because Tolly is a replica of me. Maybe his whinge ability increased in ratio to the decrease in his stature.
“I’ve been waiting ages …” began Tolly.
“Oh god, here it comes,” sighed Wally.
“… alone and defenceless …” he trailed off, as he saw Wally’s face. “You look tired and drawn,” he said. “Are you okay?”
Wally nodded. He was too tired to go into explanations of how things had been going incredibly well when he had met Lily in town, and how he had subsequently completely ruined any chance of a relationship with her by what had occurred next. Neither did he want to explain the reasons for his choice of clothing. He handed a plastic carrier bag to Tolly. “It’s the best I could do. There aren’t any pants. Not anywhere. And footwear is out of the question.”