Professor Hemstig

The birds are busy in the garden these days. I could watch them for hours. All of the animals are busy getting ready for winter. I've seen a few squirrels and when I was walking next to a stream last week I saw a weasel. The wife's uncle says that he once had to eat a weasel to prove his manhood, and he did. He was three-years-old at the time.

My cousin Albert and his friends, George and Neil, were students of Professor Hempstig, who was a brilliant inventor. After he resigned from his post at the university, he spent most of his waking hours in the basement of his house, working on his inventions. Albert, George and Neil often called around to see what he was working on. He gladly showed them most of his inventions, like his mechanical spider that could be used to hang pictures from (getting the pictures to stay in one spot was problematic), but there was one invention that he kept hidden behind a partition, and he wouldn't say anything about it until it was finished.

He spent nearly four years working on it. When he took Albert, George and Neil behind the partition to see the finished product, they couldn't tell what it was at first. "It looks like something from the set of a science fiction film," Albert said.

"It's the sort of thing you'd find in sci-fi, but this is real. It's a cloning machine. I can clone any living creature, including humans. And this isn't like Dolly the effing sheep. I could create an exact replica of myself. It would be a perfect copy of me, and there would no longer be any need for my existence."

"But it wouldn't really be you," George said.

"It would be a man who looks exactly like me, and he would have my mental faculties. He could learn everything about me from my notebooks. Within a few years, he would be me. Professor Hemstig, in this incarnation, could disappear from the face of the earth and I'd still go on in another form. I'll prove it. This is a poison I've developed myself. It takes about ten seconds to work. That's all it takes for me to disappear and to allow my copy to fill my shoes, literally."

The professor took the poison.

Albert said, "Shouldn't you have cloned yourself before killing yourself?"

"Oh shit!" The professor collapsed to his knees. With his dying breath he said, "Banjo MacErdle."

"Who's Banjo MacErdle?" Neil said as he looked down at the professor's lifeless body.

"I don't know," Albert said. "I suppose we should put him in the freezer with all of the other things he's been cryogenically freezing. If he invented the poison, there's a chance he invented an antidote. His clone would have been able to figure that out by looking through the notebooks."

They put the body into the freezer and left. They went to the pub, and they asked the other drinkers if they'd ever heard of Banjo MacErdle. A woman said there was a fast-food place called Banjo MacErdle's in a town about twenty miles away.

Albert, George and Neil went there on the following evening. They ordered their food and they sat at a table. There were only two other customers. "We should probably ask the staff if they've ever heard of Professor Hemstig," Neil said.

"I suppose so," Albert said. "But I couldn't imagine the professor coming to a place like this."

"I'm imagining it right now," George said. "Look at the man mopping the floor."

Albert and Neil turned around. The man mopping the floor looked exactly like the professor. "He must be a clone, or an identical twin. My money's on the clone."

They went over to him, and George asked if he'd ever heard of Professor Hemstig. "No," the man said. "Should I have heard of him?"

"Yes."

"Do you guys know who I am?"

"Sort of. Do you know who you are?"

"No. I woke up in a ditch a few miles from here. I have no memory of my past life. The doctors say I have amnesia. All I know is that I feel a need to work in a fast-food restaurant, even though I hate it."

"I think we can shed light on your past," Albert said.

They took him to the professor's basement and they showed him the cloning machine. The man, who they referred to as Hemstig II, had no trouble understanding the operation of the machine. He started reading the notebooks, and it all made perfect sense to him.

Albert, George and Neil left him there. They came back on the following evening, and by then, Hemstig II knew more about his origins. "I'm a clone alright," he said. "He made me to test the machine, but he was afraid I'd take his place, so he brainwashed me to give me an overwhelming need to work in a fast-food restaurant, even though I'd find it mind-numbingly boring. He estimated that I'd work there for five years before killing myself."

Albert said, "If you brought him back to life, you could get him to un-do the brainwashing."

"He wouldn't do it. I know him. I wouldn't do it if I was in his position and I'm him. I have a better plan. I found these plans for a time-machine. He was convinced that it would work. I could go back to before the brain-washing."

"You can't change the past."

"Of course you can. Everyone's trying to change the past these days because the future is so bleak. 'Then' is the new 'now'."

"But it could take years to build the time machine."

"It would take years if I spent all of my time working on it, and it'll take twice as long because I'll have to work in Banjo MacErdle's as well. So I'm going to clone myself, and brainwash my clone into wanting to work on the time machine for my benefit. I'll be frozen while he's working on it. When it's finished, he'll unfreeze me and I can go back in time. It was nice meeting ye, and I'm very grateful for all ye've done for me, but I'm afraid I'm going to have to say goodbye for a few years."

Hemstig II took the poison.

"Ahm, shouldn't you have cloned yourself first?" George said.

"Oh shit!"

They put Hemstig II into the freezer with Hemstig I.

"What are we going to do now?" Neil said.

Albert said, "I suppose we'll have to figure out this antidote for ourselves. We were students of the professor after all. Surely we should be able to understand his notebooks."

First they needed to find all of his notebooks. They looked all around the basement. When Neil looked in a red cupboard he found a red book, and on the first page he read these words: 'I made a clone of myself and brain-washed him into wanting to work in a fast-food restaurant. I also made him unable to perceive this red cupboard. He sees it as a painting of a Jack Russell. I made detailed plans for a time machine, but they're all fake. The machine will never work. Knowing his mind, and I know exactly how his mind works, he'll kill himself and make a clone. I mean, make a clone and kill himself. The clone will start working on the time machine, but he'll realise that it's fake, and he'll laugh. The first clone will remain frozen, where he can't take revenge on me for brain-washing him.'

"So which one do we bring back to life," George said, "The real Hemstig or the clone?"

Albert said, "If we bring back Hemstig II, he'll kill himself when he realises there's no time machine."

"Why don't we bring both back?" Neil said.

"They'd just fight."

"Exactly. Wouldn't it be fascinating to watch a man fight himself? They'd be perfectly matched."

"Fascinating, yes, but would it be ethical?"

Albert, George and Neil never had much time for ethical questions. They found detailed instructions for the antidote in one of the professor's notebooks, and they brought both Hemstig I and Hemstig II back to life. They brought all of their friends around to see the moment when the two would meet.

Someone brought a beer keg and someone else was taking bets on the winner. Hemstig II was made the slight favourite because he'd be motivated by revenge. No one could have predicted just how motivated he'd be. The fight was over in less than a minute. His pent-up anger at having to work in a fast-food place survived the freezing and it was released in the fight. He remembered every time he had to clean up vomit.

Hemstig I surrendered and he agreed to un-do the brainwashing. Hemstig II felt much better without the need to work in Banjo's. He worked with his creator, who told people that Hemstig II was his twin brother.

The moose's head over the fireplace loves this time of year, when the clocks go back and the weather turns wintry. It's the right time of year for lovers of the night. It's the perfect time for Halloween. We dressed the moose's head up like Satan (or like Satan's head) to frighten the wife's niece, but she loved it. She'd have been frightened by ribbons and flowers. Halloween is like Christmas for her.

The Burglar

You know that winter is fast approaching when the evenings are closing in, when the Halloween decorations in the shops are about to be replaced by Christmas decorations, and when soccer managers start getting fired. The latest casualty is Steve 'Stan' Staunton, the former manager of the Irish team. If people call you 'Stan' because you remind them of Stan Laurel, it isn't a good omen for success in international management. If he became a piano mover, at least it might be entertaining to watch.

My cousin Charlotte loves the silence of night. Before going to bed, she often turns off all the lights and then walks around the house. It's as relaxing as reading a book or drinking warm milk.

One night, after walking through every room in the house, she stood at her kitchen window and looked out at the stars. She felt completely at peace, but then she heard the sound of breaking glass and the peace was shattered. She thought the glass had been broken in the front door. She took her phone and went out the back door. She looked in the kitchen window and she was just about to call the police when she saw the burglar in the kitchen. She smiled when she saw him. He looked nothing like a burglar. He was small, and he wasn't even dressed for the part. He was wearing a white T-shirt. He looked nervous as he opened drawers and cupboards. Charlotte thought she could tackle him, and she loved tackling people. The outlet for tackling had ended when she left school and left her hockey-playing days behind. She had wanted to play rugby, but in her school they didn't think that rugby was an appropriate activity for girls. She had done her best to introduce aspects of rugby into hockey, like tackling.

When she saw him go into the dining room, she went back into the house. She tip-toed to the dining room door and she looked in. He was looking at the shelves, and he seemed confused, as if he didn't know what to take. A victim paralysed by confusion was ideal tackling fodder. Soon he'd be dazed as well.

She ran towards him and completed a textbook rugby tackle. She sat on top of him and held his arm behind his back. "I can see the headlines now," she said. "Woman single-handedly tackles burglar, man."

"I'm not really a burglar," he said.

"Then why did you break into my house?"

"Admittedly, it was for the purposes of burglary, but it's not my full-time occupation."

"What is your full-time occupation?"

"I'm a playwright?"

"A what?"

"I write plays."

"I know what a playwright is. But what made you get into burglary?"

"There isn't much money in writing plays."

"There are other ways of making money, besides writing plays or breaking into people's houses."

"I need the money tomorrow. I broke the rear window of a car with my head, and the car was owned by a criminal who has employees to carry out burglaries for him. His name is Bill. He demanded a thousand euros in compensation for what I did to his car and the distress I caused to him and to his girlfriend. They were in the back seat at the time."

"How did you manage to break the window with your head?"

"I was running down a hill after a friend of mine who had just taken my bike. He's always taking my bike and chaining it to things. I had to catch him before he chained it to something. I had my helmet on, but it slipped down over my face, and I started wondering how far I could go down the hill if I had to rely entirely on the image of the hill in my mind. It turned out I couldn't go very far. I ran into the back of the car. I hurt my knees when I hit the rear bumper, but I didn't hurt my head at all because of the helmet."

"I can imagine how he might be angry."

"He said his wife would be furious because she loved that car."

"He has a wife?"

"Yeah."

"Then you can blackmail him. You have evidence that he was with his girlfriend."

"He could just kill me."

"It's not as if you have to make any unnecessary demands. Say you'll gladly pay for the damage you caused, as soon as you get the money."

"And where am I going to get the money? I haven't had a good idea for a play in over a year. I've always written about my life, but now there's nothing left to write about. I've drained myself."

"This is part of your life. You've become a burglar to pay off a gangster because you broke the rear window of his car with your head while he was with his mistress. There's so much to write about there."

"I never thought of that... But still, I'm used to writing about people who do nothing. I've never done anything apart from write, so there wasn't much to write about in the first place."

"Well maybe it's time you changed your style to reflect this change in your life."

"Maybe."

"If I let you go, do you promise to write about this, and to give up on the burglary?"

"Yes."

"How do I know you're telling the truth? You could be planning to overpower me as soon as I let you go."

"I don't think there's much chance of that happening."

"You could hit me over the head when my back is turned."

"You're just going to have to trust me."

Charlotte thought about it for a while, and she decided to trust him. She stood up, and she helped him to his feet. She smiled when she realised he was telling the truth. They shook hands and he smiled too. He said his name was Glenn.

They were both relieved that the burglary had such a happy ending. In the wave of relief, they embraced, and then they started kissing, and then the audience applauded at the end of the first act. This act was an accurate reflection of events, apart from the kiss.

The second act told the story of how they confronted Bill. Charlotte told him that Glenn would pay when he was ready, and only for the damage he caused. She told him his wife would find out about his affair if he didn't agree to this. Bill nodded and said, "That sounds really interesting. I have an interest in the theatre. But I'm afraid I'm going to have to shoot both of you in the legs for telling me you'll pay me what you owe as soon as you've written and staged a play. The blackmail is annoying too."

He got out his gun. Charlotte waved and said, "Hi Stacey."

When Bill turned around, Charlotte and Glenn ran away. They ended up hiding in the dressing room of a strip club (they had met Bill in the strip club), and one of the strippers helped them get away. They wore disguises. There were a lot of wigs and outfits in the dressing room, but there wasn't any way of avoiding looking like strippers. Monica, the real stripper, left with them. On the street they met a man who wanted them to appear in a film. He was especially interested in Glenn. He said he'd pay them three grand. They didn't want to do the film, but they thought the money might appease Bill.

Glenn didn't want to do what they wanted him to do in the film, but he thought he'd have to do it when the executive producer arrived on the set. It was Bill. He said, "If you don't do it, I'll have to execute my duties as executive producer and execute you."

Charlotte said, "Hi Stacey," and waved.

Bill said, "How stupid do you think I am?" But he turned around when Stacey said 'hi'.

Charlotte, Glenn and Monica ran away. Monica said, "We need to get a gun. I know someone who sells them from his attic."

She took them to see this man. His attic was full of guns. Glenn said they just needed one, but Monica wanted to get more. They ended up with ten guns and ten men to use them. In effect they had their own gang, and they defeated Bill's gang. They'd have done anything to protect a poor, defenceless stripper. If they had found out that Glenn wasn't a stripper, and wasn't even a woman, they would have turned on him. They came very close to finding out when Glenn found himself on a stage in a strip club, but he managed to get away with Charlotte.

The play wasn't an accurate portrayal of what actually happened. When Charlotte and Glenn first went to see Bill, she told him that they'd pay as soon as Glenn got the money for his play. Bill agreed to this, but he insisted on charging interest. Glenn spent three days writing the play, but it took nearly a year to stage it. The interest was mounting all the time, so Glenn kept making alterations to ensure it would be a hit with the public. He added in the stripper and the film and so forth. The play turned out to be a huge success. He was able to pay off Bill. He split what was left with Charlotte and Monica (he had hired a real stripper as a consultant).

The moose's head over the fireplace is on his own again. We moved the miniature moose's head to the study because there was something unsettling in his glare. Even the surprised hen in the painting looked as if she wanted to look the other way. It's bad enough when the big moose's head makes me feel inadequate, but being afraid to look at a miniature moose's head is a good enough reason to dig a hole and hide in it. Thankfully I'll be able to avoid it when it's in the study.

Socks

Apparently all the rain this year has made the autumn colours more vibrant. It can't have been a good year for the flowers because the weather wouldn't have been conducive to the work of bees. There were far fewer bees in the garden this year. It's funny the way bees go about their business. Not funny ha-ha, but odd. Bees are odd creatures. They probably don't think that themselves. They just go about their business. They have no conception of how good their knees are. We're probably the only species who can observe the behaviour of other animals and compare it to our own, and come to the conclusion that we're as odd as bees. I say 'probably' because it's possible that some intelligent apes observe our behaviour as we observe them. We might appear insane to apes. I say 'we' on the assumption that everyone reading this is human, but I have my doubts about some people. My grandmother used to have a saying, which I can't remember now, and which I'll refrain from trying to recall in case the mental effort makes me oblivious to the doings of the so-called people who are just waiting for their chance to pounce. My grandmother used to say a lot of things. That was her most prominent characteristic, mainly because my grandfather didn't say a lot of things. They had been married for over fifty years and they were always together, so they defined each other. One said a lot of things and the other didn't -- that's how we told them apart. Most of the things my grandmother said were forgotten fairly quickly because another thought would come along and she'd have to express it, but we always remembered the things my grandfather said because they were so rare. I'll never forget the time he stood on top of a hill with the wind on his face, an axe in his hand, and he said, "There was something wrong with the cabbage." There was so much truth in his sayings you could smell it from ten yards. You could smell the cabbage from even further away. He used the multi-purpose phrase 'It smells funny' to express his disapproval of a hurling team, or his opinion of plans to build a house, or his feelings on being told of a couple's engagement.

My cousin Isobel got engaged to a man who didn't wear socks. His name was Mark, but his socks defined him in our eyes. When my grandfather heard the news he said, "Even a squirrel could smell something funny in that." I'd imagine that a squirrel's sense of smell would be more advanced than ours, but it would almost certainly be useless when it comes to determining the future prospects of a human union. A squirrel, like a bee, would have no interest in this. Isobel's parents had a dog who showed a keen interest in smelling the men brought home by Isobel, and Mark did have a funny smell. Not funny ha-ha. Wherever it came from, it couldn't be blamed on his socks. A lot of his stories revolved around the fact that he didn't wear socks, such as the one about the time he got thrown out of a casino for not wearing socks.

My grandmother said a lot of things about him, but she always skirted around the main issue, which was the lack of socks. A related issue would be his suitability for Isobel, which she also skirted around. Her constant skirting meant she had to repeat herself or remain silent. I lost count of the number of times she said 'He looks as if he knows how to use a turnip', although I stopped counting after two. I've never had to use a turnip myself. I'm sure I'd figure out the basic workings of one, if I had to. Some people have cooks or chefs to do these things for them. I've always wondered what it would be like to have a cook. If they poisoned you accidentally, would they be weighed down by guilt? Would they feel more guilty about poisoning a dog? I suppose it would depend on the person. Some would laugh it off and some would be horrified. In the old days the boss would be their master, their superior. If you poisoned God you'd feel guilty. And apologetic.

It would have been very easy to poison the dog because he'd eat anything. He ate a towel once. It took him a while but he got through all of it. He liked Mark, and she trusted the dog's judgement because she thought he had an instinct for these things, but what would a dog know? That's what she must have been asking herself in hindsight. You could take an ape's opinion more seriously, one who's had a chance to observe humans. Even a squirrel would be better qualified, if you believe my grandfather. But you should never trust a dog's opinion in these matters, especially a dog who's stupid enough to eat a towel.

Isobel started to have her doubts about Mark when she failed to convince him to wear socks. He refused on principle. He said he could be a millionaire if he wore socks because he had a roulette system that couldn't fail, but even the prospect of making a fortune couldn't make him abandon his principle. I don't think he had any other principles, and I'm not sure if the one about his socks was really a principle at all. I don't know what it was. He used to say, "If Telly Savalas can get away without wearing hair, surely I can get away with no socks."

He was horrified when she asked him who Telly Savalas was. He told her that Telly Savalas played Kojak. She was going to ask who Kojak was, just to annoy him because she was annoyed about the socks, but she thought that might be a step too far.

When they were at a barbeque they saw a man who wore bright red socks. He also had tattoo of a goldfish, but Isobel focussed on the socks. She kept pointing them out to Mark. He said, "Why would anyone get a tattoo of a goldfish? People get tattoos of tigers or panthers, things that can kill much bigger animals. A goldfish can't kill anything. And they'll never be killed because they're protected from predators by a glass bowl. Their food is delivered to them. Their only purpose is to be looked at doing nothing. They live completely uneventful lives that they can't even remember. What does a tattoo of a goldfish say about him?"

"That he doesn't need to get a panther tattoo to show that he can kill bigger animals. Everything else about him says that he would."

"His goldfish tattoo says that he wouldn't."

"His red sock say that he would."

"What do socks have to do with killing something bigger than you?"

"In my eyes only small, cowardly men don't wear socks."

"Well I'll just have to kill something bigger than me to prove I'm not a small cowardly man?

"You'd kill something bigger than you rather than wear socks?"

"Absolutely. I'll never ever ever wear socks."

"So you won't wear socks on our wedding day?"

"Absolutely not."

"I was afraid it would come to this. I'm sorry, but I just can't marry a man who doesn't wear socks."

"What are you saying?"

"It's over between us."

"Yeah well I couldn't marry a woman who doesn't respect my principles. So it's over between us."

"I already said that."

"No one's saying you didn't."

She couldn't think of anything to say to that, so she said, "Who's Kojak?" That just confused him. They left each other without saying another word.

Mark was determined to show Isobel how little he needed her. He got a new girlfriend within a week. Her name was Louise. All of his friends were jealous because she looked amazing, but he soon realised there was a downside. Full moons had a strange effect on her. So did bicycles, tennis balls and kangaroos. Fortunately, she rarely came into contact with kangaroos, but bicycles and tennis balls were much more common. A combination of these things could be dangerous. She often stole bicycles when the full moon was visible in the sky above. She'd disappear into the night, and sometimes she wouldn't be seen for days, which was a relief to Mark. She once brought him with her on one of her full moon outings. When she said, "Come with me," something about the look in her eyes told him it would be unwise to go against her wishes. They ended up walking for miles across the country that night. She never said a word to him, but she did talk to a statue on top of a hill. He was afraid of her because he never knew what she was going to do next, and there was always a chance that it would involve throwing something sharp at something just next to his head, but she only did that once (he was very careful about what he stood next to after that).

He wanted to end their relationship, but he was afraid of her. He used a technique that had worked before: he told her he'd decided to become a monk and he ran away as fast as he could.

He realised that Isobel was the only woman for him. He thought about turning up at her doorstep with a bunch of flowers, but he went for something even more potent than flowers: socks. When she opened the door and saw him wearing socks (he was wearing other clothes too, but the socks were very prominent), he said, "I got these just for you. Please take me back."

She said, "Sorry, but I could never marry a man who abandons his principles."

The moose's head over the fireplace doesn't have to worry about trivial things like socks. His mind is free to ponder higher things. He's much more reliable than apes when it comes to judging people. The wife's aunt says that her goldfish is a great judge of character. When he swims in a clockwise direction, that means that he approves of the person standing near the bowl. He swims in an anti-clockwise direction to express his disapproval. She gets people to stand near the bowl and looks at how the goldfish reacts. He doesn't know what to do when she stands next to the bowl.

The Curtains

I found an old bike in the shed. My grandfather used to use it to cycle to the pub. It rarely got him back from the pub. The bike would turn up in some unusual places. When I was young I used to cycle in circles. I was hoping to cycle fast enough to catch up with the sight of myself. Sound moves very slowly where I come from, and I was hoping that light would do likewise. I rang the bell as I cycled, and I was able to catch up with the sound easily enough.

My cousin Jane once stood at a gate with her friend, Claudia. They looked out over a field. When it started raining, neither of them moved, and neither of them said anything for a few minutes. It was as if they were trying to figure out what was going on. Jane eventually realised that there was nothing going on, apart from what was coming down from the clouds. She said, "I suppose we better go inside."

They went inside and looked out the window. Jane wasn't prepared to accept that they had stood out in the rain for nothing. She wouldn't let go of the idea that something was going on. "I can't help thinking there's something we've forgotten," she said. "Or that there's something staring us in the face that we haven't seen."

Claudia said, "I was thinking of that time we were at the train station, when it started raining. We stood under the canopy on the platform and we looked out at the rain. The only other person on the platform was a man who started tap dancing."

"That wasn't tap dancing."

"What was it then?"

"It was... At best it was attempted tap dancing. It was horrible being alone on a platform with someone guilty of attempted tap dancing."

"I liked it."

"You would."

"Why do you say that?"

"Well you did like it, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but why 'would' I like it?"

"Why do I have to explain that when you 'did' like it?"

"The reason I liked it was because I thought it was good."

"You would think it was good."

"Why? And don't say, 'Yeah well you did think it was good.'"

"You liked that mime artist who pretended to be a pinball machine."

"He was brilliant."

"He was an idiot."

"You don't have to be clever to be able to mime a pinball machine."

"Well no, you couldn't possible be clever if you contemplated doing such a thing."

"Everything has to be clever with you, and that's just stupid. You always wonder will you look stupid if you admit to liking something."

"I don't. I just don't like stupid things. And even if I did like mime artists, that one was terrible. The tap dancer was even worse. The rain had more rhythm. Even the mime artist's pinball machine had more rhythm."

"You have less rhythm than an ironing board."

"That's why I don't start dancing in front of other people on train platforms. I think we should go back to the platform. Maybe I'll remember what it is I've forgotten there."

It was a small train station, and it was only busy in the mornings and evenings. Jane and Claudia went there and stood on the platform. There was no one else on it. They looked at the trees at the other side of the track. Jane tried to empty her mind, hoping that the thing she was trying to remember would come inside when no one else was at home.

"How exactly would you have more rhythm than an ironing board?" she said. "If you can have less, then you must be able to have more as well. I'll never be able to get that thought out of my mind now."

"I can't stop thinking about what you said about Stan dancing in front of other people on a train platform, but we were the only ones there."

"We're other people."

"Yeah, but it's not like a crowd."

"It would have been better if it was in front of a crowd. It was uncomfortable when just the two of us had to be the other people."

"He didn't dance in front of us. He was a long way down the platform, out in the rain."

"Did he think we wouldn't notice him?"

"He might have done."

"How could you not notice someone tap dancing on a train platform when there's no one else there? He might has well have mimed a pinball machine. In fact, it was so bad he might well have been trying to do that."

"Well let's ask him."

Stan, the tap dancer, worked in a bakery. They went to see him, and Claudia said, "We were just waiting on the train platform and it was so boring without a tap dancer to keep us entertained."

He smiled and started dancing again. When he stopped, Claudia applauded. Jane reluctantly joined in. He said, "Were ye waiting for a train?"

"No," Jane said.

"Oh... Were ye waiting for someone on a train?"

"No," Claudia said, "we were just waiting for Jane to remember something. She doesn't know what it is. Because if she knew what it was she wouldn't be waiting to remember it. She thought it might arrive at a train station."

"Is it a train?" Stan said.

"No."

"Because only a limited number of things arrive at train stations, and trains would be the most obvious ones."

"It's not a train."

"Or is it a person?"

"I don't think so. It might relate to a person in some way, but I don't know."

"I write down things relating to people so I won't forget. I'd never remember birthdays if I didn't write them down."

"That's it!" Jane said. "It's my brother's birthday! I left his cake outside the back door. I put it on the ground when I was trying to find my keys, and then I forgot about it because the phone was ringing inside."

"So it didn't have anything to do with trains," Stan said.

"No."

Jane and Claudia went back to look at the cake. It was in a box, but the box had been in the rain for too long, and the cake was resting under wet cardboard. "I'll have to get another cake," Jane said.

"It's just like that song, MacArthur Park. 'Someone left the cake out in the rain. I don't think I can take it, coz it took so long to bake it, and I'll never have that recipe again'."

"It's nothing at all like that. I left my brother's cake out in the rain, and I might not have the recipe, but I didn't bake it. I bought it in the supermarket from the woman with no eyebrows."

"The cake in the song is probably a metaphor for something else."

"Well this is even less like whatever it's a metaphor for."

"I'd love to see Stan tap dancing to MacArthur Park."

"He couldn't dance to a song like that."

"He could."

"You would say that. Stan tap dancing to MacArthur Park would be like the mime doing the pinball machine in slow motion."

"We can put it to the test. I have that song on CD, and I have a portable CD player. We could go back to the bakery to get another cake."

That's exactly what they did. Jane bought another cake and Claudia said to Stan, "I couldn't help thinking of MacArthur Park because there's a cake in the rain in that song. And when I played it again I couldn't help picturing you dancing to it."

Claudia pressed 'play' on the CD player. Stan started dancing, but it was a very half-hearted dance. He started crying, and his legs slowed to a standstill.

"Is anything wrong?" Claudia said.

"It's just so sad," Stan said. "The cake out in the rain. And it took so long to bake it, and he doesn't know if he'll find that recipe again."

"Are you okay?" Jane said.

Stan seemed confused. He looked down at his body.

"I don't mean physically," Jane said. "I mean the other one... Mentally."

He stared back at her, still looking confused.

"Not everyone dances on train platforms," she said. "And not everyone cries because of songs about cakes in the rain, unless it's a metaphor for something else. Have you been crying a lot recently."

"No, I never cry. Apart from just now."

"Is there anything on your mind that you want to talk about?"

He thought about that for a while and said, "I was thinking about curtains earlier."

"What about them?"

"Just about how useful they are for keeping the light in and the dark out. And you can hide in them by day."

"Do you feel a need to hide in them?"

"Sometimes. If there's someone I need to hide from. It's nearly always a person. Sometimes I need to hide from animals too, but there's no point hiding behind curtains because they'd just smell you out. Humans can't smell as well. But they can smell as bad. I don't mind bad smells in animals, but in humans they can be a bit... stand back from the edge of the platform. No one ever complains about an animal sweating."

"What do you do when you need to hide from an animal?"

"They normally catch me. I suppose I could try crossing a river or something... Is there anything on your mind that you want to talk about?"

"No... Not really... I was thinking about what would have more rhythm than an ironing board earlier, but it doesn't matter. Do you often have to hide from people?"

"Sometimes I just do it because I've got nothing else to do."

"Wouldn't you have nothing at all to do when you're hiding in the curtains?"

"Well it depends on the curtains. The ones at my aunt's house are always fascinating. I'll be getting off for lunch in a few minutes. I could take ye there."

"Wouldn't your aunt be bothered by you bringing strangers around to see her curtains?"

"No, people are always dropping by to hide in them. People have met future wives and husbands in there. And some people have met current wives and husbands and threatened to make them ex wives and husbands because of what they're doing in there."

The curtains sounded intriguing, so Jane and Claudia said they'd go. His aunt's house was about a mile away. It was at the end of a twisting, tree-lined drive. The red velvet curtains were at either side of a huge window at the front of the house. "I prefer the curtains on the right," he said. "Some people prefer the other ones. I suppose they prefer the sort of people who go there, but I prefer these ones."

He led them into the curtains. Jane and Claudia had been expecting to reach a wall as soon as they got inside, but he kept pushing his way through the velvet for over a minute. It was dark in there. They met a woman who looked lost. Stan knew her. "This is Mrs. Decibel," he said. "She knows everything. Ask her anything and she'll know the answer. Ask her about the ironing board."

Jane said, "What would have more rhythm than an ironing board?"

"A crow," Mrs. Decibel said.

"In what sense?" Jane said.

"In the sense that a crow would have more rhythm than an ironing board. Do you doubt that?"

"No. But how could a crow possibly have less rhythm than an ironing board?"

"It couldn't. I'll prove it."

She led them on deeper into the curtains until they came to a small room that had been created with pieces of timber like rafters overhead. There was a crow in the centre of this room. "I don't like this place," Stan said. "I knew we should have gone for the other curtain."

"I could get an ironing board for you to compare it to the crow," Mrs. Decibel said to Jane.

"I don't doubt that a crow has more rhythm than an ironing board," Jane said.

"The one thing I wanted to hide from was a crow," Stan said. "The one thing. And it's the one thing I ended up meeting. Would a crow be able to smell me?"

Claudia said, "If you started dancing he'd sense your rhythm, assuming a crow really does have more rhythm than an ironing board."

Stan started dancing and the crow walked around in a circle. Stan stopped dancing and started crying. "That's the one thing I didn't want to happen. The one thing. Now every time I dance I'll think of a crow. I should have gone to the left curtain. Isobel might be there. And yes, she thinks I have less rhythm than a kettle, but at least when I used to think of her every time I danced I never cried. Or I did cry, but that was the one thing I wanted to do when I thought of her. The one thing. Sometimes I remember the days when we had humming contests. She could hum monotonously with more rhythm than an ice cream van. And she's always with her Australian friends now. So I'm glad I didn't go to the left. I'd rather see a crow than see them. But a crow is the one thing I didn't want to see. The one thing."

Jane said to Mrs. Decibel, "Would a crow have more rhythm than a kettle."

"It... would depend on... I don't know. I suppose we'll have to test it and see."

Stan left to get a brass kettle. When he returned he put it next to the crow. "What if we plug it in?" Jane said.

Stan left to get an extension lead. When he returned they boiled the kettle. "I think the kettle has more rhythm," Mrs. Decibel said.

Jane said, "What if we put a metal ball into the kettle as it's boiling, like a ball from a pinball machine."

Stan left again and he came back with a small metal ball. He put it into the kettle. As the kettle boiled they heard the ball bouncing around inside. Stan started dancing to the sound. He smiled and said, "Now I know what it feels like to have as much rhythm as a pinball ball in a brass kettle next to a crow."

"That's a much better interpretation of a pinball machine than the one the mime did," Jane said.

"I can interpret a kettle through tap as well."

Stan did his tap dance interpretation of a kettle. They all stood back at the end.

"That was brilliant!" Jane said.

"I liked it too," Isobel said. She had arrived just before Stan boiled. He didn't notice her until she spoke. "It's a pity you still can't interpret a man who doesn't insult my grandmother," she said.

Stan said, "This is my interpretation of the brain activity of your Australian friends." He stood completely still for thirty seconds. "And this is my interpretation of an ironing board." He stood still for a while and then he fell over.

She said, "You do know they're standing right behind you, don't you?"

He turned around and looked up at the three Australian men. He ran away and they chased him. A scuffle ensued. 'Scuffle' is the best way to describe the shouts and flailing about in the curtain. Jane and Claudia made their way out of it. Isobel was waiting on the outside. Jane said to her, "He didn't really mean to insult you or your friends. He got you this cake."

Jane gave Isobel the box with the cake. Isobel opened the box and said, "Aww. He remembered my birthday next month."

She reached into the curtain, felt around for a while and when she removed her arm she was holding the back of Stan's shirt. She took him to the curtain at the other side of the window. The scuffle continued. Judging by the sounds that emanated from it, the crow was deeply involved. Mrs. Decibel crawled out from under the curtain. She remained on her hands and knees. She started smiling, and then laughing. "That was the most fun I've ever had in my life," she said.

She crawled back in again. Jane and Claudia stayed outside and listened.

"What are you thinking about now?" Claudia said.

"I don't know."

"I often feel like that. I don't know what I'm thinking half the time."

"I know."

They listened to the curtain for over twenty minutes. The sound changed as time went by. Laughter replaced the shouts, but there was still a lot of flailing limbs.

The moose's head over the fireplace has a new companion. The wife got a miniature moose's head to hang on the wall next to him. She got the idea after seeing a pirate on TV. The pirate had a parrot on his shoulder, and the parrot had a tiny parrot on its shoulder. It also had an eye patch and a wooden claw. She hopes that the moose's head will pass on some of his knowledge to the miniature moose. The miniature one is already copying his teacher's look of superiority when he looks at me.

Electric Eagles

The days are getting shorter. It won't be long before the clocks go back. This makes me even more appreciative of the sunset every evening, as long as it isn't obscured by clouds. One of my neighbours says the reason I don't see it is because I'm looking in the wrong direction. His grandfather believed that the sun rose in the north and set in a well in the middle of the woods, and he was better qualified than anyone to say that because he spent years looking at the sun.

My cousin Albert shared a house with some friends of his. One of them was called Kenny and he was making electric eagles in the shed at the end of the garden. The eagles were intended to protect the apples in his grandmother's orchard. Thieves were eating the apples without even removing them from the trees. They probably thought it was funny, but they wouldn't be laughing after being electrocuted by an eagle. Albert knew a man who couldn't stop laughing after being electrocuted, but he didn't think it was funny.

Kenny forgot about the eagles when he met a waitress whose hair was always moving, as if there was always a wind machine nearby. Her name was Brigid. Sometimes it was the wind that made her hair move, but even indoors it never remained still. He once played a game of pool with her. She often had to brush her hair to one side or the other. It always seemed to be cascading down over her shoulders. Albert thought that only love could make a man forget about his electric eagles. Albert had been interested in the eagles because he was hoping he could use them to make his brother retract a statement about AC/DC. Only love could give the world a tint and scent of rose, and make the vision of Brigid dance in Kenny's mind so it looked as if her hair was always moving.

When Kenny was watching TV one night he saw her on the screen. Brigid and her hair were in a cheap film about surfers. It was filmed in west Cork, and the sky was grey in most scenes, but it felt like California to Kenny. As far as he was concerned, she played the part of the sun. The wind did extraordinary things with her hair.

The waves were small, and there wasn't much surfing, but there was a lot of waiting for waves. One scene consisted of people looking up at a flag in the wind. No one said anything. For two minutes the only sound was from the waves and from the metal ring hitting off the flagpole.

Albert and Kenny met Brigid on the following day. Kenny said he'd seen the film and he thought it was brilliant.

"I thought it was terrible," she said. "It was meant to be my big break. Actually it was never meant to be, but I deluded myself into thinking it was. The director was a magician who could make confetti fall on people. That was his first film, and his last. He should have stuck to the magic. That's what he kept saying during the filming: 'I should have stuck to the magic'."

"What made him want to do a film?" Albert said.

"He used to make notes of ideas he had. One day he came up with an idea for a trick that involved a wooden box, so he got a piece of paper and he wrote 'I need to make a', and then he was going to write 'box', but he'd written an 'f' instead of a 'b'. He was going to cross out the 'f' but it was such a beautiful 'f' that he couldn't bring himself to do it. So he tried to think of a word that started with 'f' and the first one that came to mind was 'film'. He added 'ilm' to his 'f' and then he read what he had written: 'I need to make a film'. That struck a chord with him. He believed that the accidental 'f' wasn't really accidental at all, that it was his subconscious mind's way of telling him that he needed to make a film."

"Where did he get the funding for it?" Albert said.

"That came about because of his confetti trick. He suffered from claustrophobia for a while because he locked himself in a coffin in one of his tricks. The audience thought it was part of the act and they cheered. Or maybe they realised it wasn't part of the act and they were entertained by the thought of a man panicking in a coffin. It took him a few months to get over his fear of confined spaces, especially of coffins. Luckily for him, those few months coincided with a hot summer, and he was able to perform outdoors. His confetti trick was even more impressive outside. The one problem with performing outdoors was the heat. He used to wear a black suit, and he came close to fainting a few times. He was performing at an arts fair one day and he became a bit disoriented. He was supposed to make the confetti fall on a woman with a poodle but it ended up falling on a couple who were walking by. They had no idea what was going on. They both looked up and then they looked at each other. Then the man said, 'Will you marry me?' She said yes. The audience applauded, but Rory, the magician, didn't really know what was going on. He was suspicious, because the last time an audience applauded a trick going wrong was when he got stuck in the coffin. It turned out that this man had been waiting for a long time to pop the question. He had made several attempts already that day, but he always backed out at the last moment because he was afraid she'd say 'no'. The confetti seemed like a sign to him, so he asked her to marry him and she said 'yes'. It seemed like a sign to her too. When he realised where the confetti had come from he was extremely grateful to Rory. This man turned out to be a multi-millionaire, and he told Rory that if he ever needed a favour, to just give him a call and he'd sort it out. Rory didn't need anything at the time, but a few weeks later he became a film-maker and he needed someone to fund his film, so he called the millionaire, who paid for the whole thing. Rory thought it was the work of fate that made the millionaire walk by just as the confetti trick went wrong, but if the hand of fate brought it about, then it also got him stuck in a coffin to make him perform outdoors, which would make you fear the hand of fate. That's what Rory thought after the film went wrong."

"Did the millionaire lose a lot of money on the film?" Albert said.

"No, he actually made a profit. The film became hugely popular because of the actor who played Beatrix Potter. He forgot his lines in one scene, so instead he went into this long rant about hair gel. He's very much against the use of hair gel. He says that anything that emanates from your head shouldn't be altered. It should be left unedited, like the words you say. It's okay for them to be put in context, so he didn't have anything against wearing a hat, but hair gel would sculpt your hair into something it's not. He didn't have anything against cutting hair either, as long as it wasn't too short. Hair doesn't need to be very long for people to get the gist of what it's saying. If his hair was like his rants, it would be down to his feet. He never cut them short. It would take about ten seconds to get the gist and he'd keep going for hours. When he started off on his rant about hair gel, Rory didn't say 'cut' because he just couldn't be bothered, and he didn't edit it out of the film. The actor's name is Larry. He said he had lots of other rants in his pants that needed to be aired, but the one about the hair gel was the only one in the film. His pants certainly needed to be aired. Although when he was playing Beatrix Potter he was wearing a skirt, so he got plenty of air with the sea breeze. Larry has built up a huge cult following since then, and his fans have been buying DVDs of the film. He's a sort of a philosopher, but most of his thoughts emanate from his anti-hair-gel stance. And I can't imagine Heidegger describing his work as rants in his pants. Nietzsche, maybe. His rant really struck a chord with people."

"So you have a high profile amongst people who are opposed to hair."

"Yeah. The man who funded the film wants Rory to make a sequel and have Larry in the starring role, but Rory is sticking with the magic."

Kenny was remaining silent. He thought that the film must be fate's way of bringing him and Brigid together, just like the couple who were showered with confetti, although some of the other signs weren't as encouraging, like Rory being locked in a coffin and being saddled with a film that he believed to be a failure. As he looked at her hair moving around he couldn't help wondering what was going on inside her head.

Albert said to her, "Would you like to do a sequel?"

"Definitely. I could demand more money this time. And a profile amongst hair-gel-haters is better than no profile at all. Working with Larry is fun, even if you do have to listen to his rants. He can talk for hours about the evils of weather forecasters. He says they get it wrong most of the time and they ruin the surprise factor of the weather. Those two points would seem to contradict each other. Larry would never let something as small as contradicting himself get in his way. That made his rants more entertaining."

"How did he manage to go on for hours when he was talking about weather forecasters?"

"Well firstly, not letting contradictions get in his way removed a lot of barriers. He could talk for an hour about how the world was round and then talk for an hour about how the world was flat. And secondly, he spent most of those few hours talking about the value of surprise and how we're losing it in the modern world. We always have to be told what the weather is doing now, even if we can see that it's doing something else entirely, and what the weather is going to be doing five days from now. He used to talk of the beautiful surprise of a snowstorm in the days before weather forecasts. He said that we leave nothing to chance with modern technology, and technology has separated us from nature. We've been cut off from the vast array of surprises offered by nature. Even the unpleasant surprises like being caught out in a thunder storm would provide an adrenalin rush. He believed that getting struck by lightning would be the greatest adrenalin rush of all, but he wasn't prepared to put this to the test. But there were other less dangerous surprises that would give you a similar thrill, like standing on top of a cliff, or seeing an eagle."

"He'd be fascinated by Kenny," Albert said. "Kenny is a curious combination of the old and the new. He's building electric eagles. They'd give anyone a surprise, especially if they electrocuted you."

"But would they have the awe factor of a real eagle?" she said.

"Oh yeah," Albert said. "I've seen them and they're beautiful machines. And machines can be beautiful. People must have looked on in awe at the first cars or planes. People had faith in technology back then. But now cars are just places for the kids to get sick, or things to take you to and from a job you hate, and in the process getting you stuck with lots of other people going to or from the jobs they hate."

Kenny wasn't sure he liked where this was heading. He doubted if there was any way of igniting a spark of romance in a conversation that was heading towards electrocuting people, but he remained on the look-out for an appropriate time to ask her out, something like the confetti falling from the sky. He looked up and saw grey clouds above.

When she asked him why he made the eagles he said, "To catch apple thieves. Or at least to deter them."

"Larry probably would approve of that. Most people would go for an electric fence. Electric eagles certainly have the surprise factor."

"I made an electric turnip once. I left it outside and I completely forgot about it. It started raining, and when I was walking past the window I saw sparks coming from the turnip. It wasn't on the same scale as lightning, but it was still one of those awe-inspiring surprises. It was a beautiful sight in the fading evening light. I kept watching it until it exploded. It gave me a warm feeling."

She smiled at that. Kenny thought he'd just created a spark of romance with an exploding turnip and he couldn't help smiling back at her.

Albert said, "I think Larry is wrong about the demise of surprises. There's an example of the weather combining with an electric turnip to create something completely unexpected: a turnip exploding in the rain."

"Yeah," she said, "as I was saying, he does tend to contradict himself. The point of Larry's rants isn't really the point he's making but the way he makes it. Weather forecasters use all the latest technology but they still get it wrong, so you still have the surprise factor. He had a brilliant rant about things that fall on your head. He claimed that most of them were good, like snowflakes or rain drops, or even apples, like Newton coming up with his theory of gravity. Although I'm sure he didn't come up with that just because an apple fell on his head. That'd be like Darwin suddenly forming his theory of evolution after seeing chimpanzees having tea."

Albert said, "Apple thieves will suddenly discover electricity if Kenny's eagles work."

"That's something I'd like to see," she said.

Kenny wanted to demonstrate one of his eagles on an actual apple thief because he thought it would impress Brigid. Rory and Larry wanted to see it too. It would have taken months before Kenny could get the eagle to fly, so he used a wire for the bird to slide on. He tied one end of the wire to a branch high up on an oak tree in his grandmother's garden, and he tied another end to an apple tree in the orchard. When a thief was standing in the right place near that apple tree, Kenny would press a button on a remote control and the eagle would slide down the wire, hitting the thief and electrocuting him.

Albert, Kenny, Brigid, Rory and Larry hid behind a hedge and waited for the thief. When it started raining, Kenny suggested waiting in the shed but Larry said, "It'll do us good to be out in the rain. Let the drops seep into your head and leave beautiful reminders of nature."

Albert said, "Aren't you worried about the rain re-styling our hair, like the hair gel?"

"That's another reason to stay outside. There's nothing wrong with our hair or our words being re-styled by nature. Every now and then we'll come into contact with one of nature's manifestations and it will fundamentally change the contents of our heads. It will radically re-style the words that come out, so it's only appropriate that nature should re-style our hair too."

The thieves arrived after midnight. There were two of them. They entered the garden by climbing over the wall at the back and they started eating. The spectators remained behind the hedge. They waited for over ten minutes before one of the thieves stood near the wire. Kenny pressed the button and the eagle started on its flight, but it didn't get far. It got stuck in the branches of the oak tree. Rory said he'd climb the tree to send it on its way.

In one of Rory's outdoor tricks he needed to climb a tree without being noticed by the audience, so he was used to this. It only took him a few seconds to get to the eagle, and he was just about to push it when lightning struck the tree. He fell to the ground.

Kenny looked up and saw a shower of leaves falling down on him. It reminded him of the confetti. He had been waiting to pounce, so he took his chance without thinking. He said to Brigid, "Do you want to go out with me?"

But she just ran to Rory. She cradled his head and said, "Rory! Speak to me!"

Kenny realised he had chosen the worst possible moment to act, and it had the worst possible outcome: she was cradling another man's head; they were standing in heavy rain late at night and he hadn't even managed to electrocute a thief. He felt like an idiot. He wanted to hide in a hole or build a high wall around himself. And then the eagle exploded.

Rory managed to get to his feet. There was a smile on his face and his hair was standing on end. This reflected the change inside his head. The flash of lightning had illuminated his mind and he saw what he really should be doing: he needed to make another film. This one would be different. He'd learnt from the mistakes he made on the last one. He wouldn't let it turn into something he didn't want it to be, something alien to him. It was his own fault for letting that happen the last time. It would be set on the beaches of west Cork again, but this time he wouldn't pad out scenes with long periods of silence. Larry could do his rants to keep the punters happy. Rory's new-found energy confirmed Larry's belief in the value of natural surprises.

They all went inside and Kenny's grandmother made them tea in the kitchen. When Brigid saw a petal fall from a flower in a vase, she turned to Kenny and said, "Yes, I will."

It took him a few minutes to realise that she had answered the question he had asked earlier, so he was happy with his evening's work. The eagle had been a success too, in an indirect way. The thieves never returned to the garden.

The moose's head over the fireplace can tell the time by looking at the shadows on the wall. He's still accurate, even though the sun is setting earlier each day. He can also tell the time by looking at candles, and he can predict the weather by listening to Led Zeppelin.