![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
ib_archiveauthor: sheldrake (![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sheldrake)
email: mrssheldrake [at] yahoo.co.uk
Picture the scene. A sunny morning in late April, outside a slightly too trendy South London cafe. The cafe will be gone within the year, replaced by a Turkish grocers, but for today the world is bright with promise and sunshine. Customers sit under the awning with their lattes and their cappuccinos, squinting at the blue sky. Spring is here, after a winter that threatened to drag forever, and everyone is cheerful. Even the traffic wardens have faint smiles on their faces. It won't last, of course; the sun will go in, and people will remember debts and the washing up. There will be a ticket on the car, too few customers, a mugging.
But it does happen, once in a while. The sun shines just in the right place. If you're lucky, the spark will catch. It could set the world alight, that sort of thing.
And if you're lucky, it'll happen to you.
Oh my God, you are not going to believe what happened to me last week. Here, look, free table over there. No, seriously, you're actually not gonna believe this.
Over there, next to that woman who's got a koala on her head.
Okay, right, I'll tell you. Blimey, you're in a mood today, aren't you? What bit your bum? All right, all right... I'll tell you the story.
I know it was Wednesday, because Wednesday is signing on day. Signing on, you know, at the JobCentre. To get money. Oh, come on. I know you've never been unemployed, but you must know what signing on means... You're having me on. You are, aren't you? Very funny. Anyway, I always look forward to signing on, because I get to have a chat with Linda - I'm on her caseload, you know. I am. I consider it a great privilege to be on Linda's caseload. Linda's great, she's like your mum. Well, not your mum. Your mum's a bit weird. She's like somebody's mum. Somebody normal.
All right, I am getting on with it!
So yeah, Wednesday. Miserable. Raining cats and dogs. But I was in a pretty decent mood. I put the stereo on nice and loud (it was that CD I got off Andy, that mix he made for Dave's party). Reckon I left the flat about 12.30, so I was in plenty of time. I was looking pretty damn sharp, if I do say so myself. I was wearing this new hat I got from the Salvation Army shop -- like a sort of pink trilby, but a bit shiny. Seriously cool! I was gonna wear it today but I thought better of it. You don't want to overdo these things.
So yeah, down the stairs I go, two at a time, and out the door. There's Harry. "All right, my son?" he sings out. That's the thing about Harry. Whatever state he's in, he's always got a friendly word. I swear, one night I tripped over him on my way home from a little soiree sort of thing in Clapham. I'd have called an ambulance, but he was snoring away, his grimy little hands wrapped round an empty bottle.
Anyway, yeah. So - maybe I should have skipped this bit, actually, what d'you think? - I got on the bus. So there I am, on the bus and - why aren't you drinking your coffee? But they always put cinnamon on it here, that's just what they do. And I get extra, because they all love me so much. Okay, well, ask them not to next time. Oh, give it here - the thing about the bus was, there was a cat on it. Yeah, a cat! Just an ordinary, everyday, common-or-garden cat. Well, no... to be honest, it wasn't ordinary. It was quite weird, really. For one thing, it had spines.
Are you going to eat that little biscuity thing?
The cat had been asleep. The bus was one of those big old tatty ones that rattle with complaints, you know, the ones they only get out when they really have to. This particular bus was used so rarely that the cat had been able to live undisturbed on its upper deck for about a month now. Drivers didn't like it because it was haunted by a ghost called Edna Smith. She travelled in it every day when she was alive. She wafted about causing drafts and then complaining about them. The cat didn't mind; if she didn't bother ghosts, they didn't bother her.
When the strange young man in the pink hat came and sat down next to her, the cat woke up. She hissed and crackled at the man, whose hair was several different colours. Jumping, he stared at her and she noticed that his t-shirt was horribly bright with nasty glittery bits on it.
"Oh my God," said the man, laughing. "I thought I was seeing things! It's a cat!" The cat wondered whether he were actually mentally subnormal, or just fashionably stupid. The cat knew about fashion and stuff; after all, she always read leftover copies of Hello and Heat.
"You are seeing things. Unless you're blind which I shouldn't wonder looking at that hat," muttered the cat.
The man looked astonished. "What's wrong with this hat? Oh my God, you can talk!"
"Yes," said the cat. "Yes, I can talk. Although generally I prefer to wait until there's someone around worth talking to."
He was unaffected by her searing wit, from the way he was grinning. This, thought the cat, must be what the expression 'punchable' meant.
"This is so cool!" said the man. "Wait till I tell my friends!"
The cat sat up and shuffled her spines. There were so many seats on this bus. Why, in the name of whatever, did they always have to choose hers?
"Oh my God!" said the man delightedly. "You've got spines!"
Spines, man! On a cat! Try and imagine. It was like... a cat. With spines. I asked, 'Are they spines or quills?' and it said spines.
So I introduced myself - well, what would you do? - and asked for its name. But it wouldn't tell me, just gave me this look, and said:
"I am a legendary beast and if you don't know my name, it's not for me to tell."
I think it was in a bit of a mood, to be honest. I'd woken it up. And it was weird, 'cos it was giving off this sort of blue static or something. Got worse the more I pissed it off. Started going on about how it used to be on first name terms with queens and princes and stuff about slaves and all that. Said it didn't know how it had come to this, that it was living on a derelict bus being molested by a 'moth-eaten metrosexual layabout.'
I didn't take offence, though. I figured it was probably a bit depressed.
"Look, mate," I said to it. "I'm sorry we got off on the wrong foot. I'll leave you alone if you want, but I don't get to meet that many interesting people around here. And you seem pretty interesting."
"Well," it said. "That's true. I am far more interesting than ninety-nine percent of life on this planet." It shuffled round on its seat, and it seemed to be a bit happier.
"Too right! Not everyone's got spines like that."
"No..." it mused. "No, it's mainly porcupines and hedgehogs. And me."
"And I bet you're really wise and that, too," I said.
"Wiser than you, certainly. Not that that would be difficult."
I dunno if it's just me - you're always saying I watch too much telly - but this cat was really starting to remind me of Anne Robinson. You know, Weakest Link?
"And," said the cat. "I have magical powers. I assume that would have been your next question."
Actually, I was going to ask it more about the spines - how do they work, how does it keep them clean, that sort of thing. But hey. "That's right! Magical powers, eh? Wow, that's... that's pretty cool." 'Cos, you've got to admit. It was.
The cat smiled. I mean, not really, but it looked like it was. Its spines were all smug.
"Nothing fancy," it said modestly. "Necromancy, wart removal. Basic weather-magic. Plagues, that sort of thing. I can organise crystallised rainbows and clouds with real silver linings. I can turn puppies inside out from a distance of several metres. Standard to luxury love potions, I do. Catering for weddings, funerals and bar-mitzvahs, at very reasonable rates."
"Amazing," I said. "That's really... did you say love potions?"
Human loneliness. The cat thought that she seemed to attract it, the way some people attracted mosquitoes. This man in the silly hat and the chipped magenta nail-polish simply reeked of it. Just like poor Edna Smith, hovering invisibly over their heads, her old sadness oozing slowly into the upholstery.
The cat huffed. She was cursed with the ability to see, in a myopic and limited way, into the future, and she'd already clocked the fact that this man would never actually pay. Still. She was bored.
"You want a love potion?"
The man looked slightly embarrassed. "Well, I dunno about a potion, exactly, I'm not sure - I mean..."
"Anyone specific?"
"Um. No, not really. Just, er... Just thought it'd be nice to..."
"People find you annoying, don't they?"
"Not all of them," the man protested in an injured tone. "Loads of people like me! They think I'm great and... fun."
The cat stifled a yawn.
"But they're not the ones you want," she said.
"No," said the man quietly.
"You like the other ones, don't you? The ones who leave the party early, don't seem to care whether or not you like them. The ones who look at you with that little smile - and what does it mean? You get the feeling they've seen right through you, and you're not sure whether to be hopeful or afraid."
"All right. You don't have to go on about it."
The cat sat in silence for a while, untangling the problem like a magical knot in her head. Sleep was all very well, but it felt good to be working again. Her spines pulsated gently, and her electricity crackled blue and green.
"Right," she said at last. "I think that's got it."
"Got what?" asked the man. He looked as though he was starting to regret catching this particular bus in the first place. "The, er, potion?"
"It's not exactly a potion," said the cat, and shot a spine straight into the man's heart.
It was shocking, I tell you. It really hurt. You know when you accidentally bang your elbow on something with corners? Yeah, was worse than that.
What did I do? I didn't do much, to be honest, because my stop was coming up. And I had to be in time for Linda, didn't I? So I binged the bell, and I was rushing to get down the stairs and get off the bus. It was like I'd almost forgotten about the pain and the cat and everything. Then I was outside, and the window was open and it was calling out my name.
"Oh, bye then!" I called back. "And thanks and that. I'll probably see you round, yeah?"
"You'll find your invoice in the left pocket of those hideous jeans," said the cat. And that was it.
Here, look at this. Found it in my pocket when I got home. Proves I didn't make it up. What do you reckon to that, then?
No, I didn't get it off the internet, thank you! I can't even read it, can you? Even if I could, how are you supposed to pay a spiny cat? Don't suppose it's got a Paypal account.
Did it work? I dunno. I don't feel any different. Maybe it hasn't kicked in yet. Haven't noticed any beautiful people throwing themselves at me. In fact, the only person I've seen lately is you. And Harry the Drunk, but I don't really fancy him. Call me old-fashioned, but I think people should try and hold onto at least a couple of teeth.
Mind you, it's not like I need it. People love me, don't they? What are you smiling like that for? What? What's so funny? You're mad, you are. Oh, come here, you've got...
Nothing, you had a bit of... you had a crumb on you.
Listen, come over later. I'll make those really ace margaritas I made at Dave's and I've got Strictly Come Dancing on tape! What? Well, all right, we can watch University Challenge first. But you'll have to bring the Jaffa Cakes.
the end
sheldrake)email: mrssheldrake [at] yahoo.co.uk
Picture the scene. A sunny morning in late April, outside a slightly too trendy South London cafe. The cafe will be gone within the year, replaced by a Turkish grocers, but for today the world is bright with promise and sunshine. Customers sit under the awning with their lattes and their cappuccinos, squinting at the blue sky. Spring is here, after a winter that threatened to drag forever, and everyone is cheerful. Even the traffic wardens have faint smiles on their faces. It won't last, of course; the sun will go in, and people will remember debts and the washing up. There will be a ticket on the car, too few customers, a mugging.
But it does happen, once in a while. The sun shines just in the right place. If you're lucky, the spark will catch. It could set the world alight, that sort of thing.
And if you're lucky, it'll happen to you.
Oh my God, you are not going to believe what happened to me last week. Here, look, free table over there. No, seriously, you're actually not gonna believe this.
Over there, next to that woman who's got a koala on her head.
Okay, right, I'll tell you. Blimey, you're in a mood today, aren't you? What bit your bum? All right, all right... I'll tell you the story.
I know it was Wednesday, because Wednesday is signing on day. Signing on, you know, at the JobCentre. To get money. Oh, come on. I know you've never been unemployed, but you must know what signing on means... You're having me on. You are, aren't you? Very funny. Anyway, I always look forward to signing on, because I get to have a chat with Linda - I'm on her caseload, you know. I am. I consider it a great privilege to be on Linda's caseload. Linda's great, she's like your mum. Well, not your mum. Your mum's a bit weird. She's like somebody's mum. Somebody normal.
All right, I am getting on with it!
So yeah, Wednesday. Miserable. Raining cats and dogs. But I was in a pretty decent mood. I put the stereo on nice and loud (it was that CD I got off Andy, that mix he made for Dave's party). Reckon I left the flat about 12.30, so I was in plenty of time. I was looking pretty damn sharp, if I do say so myself. I was wearing this new hat I got from the Salvation Army shop -- like a sort of pink trilby, but a bit shiny. Seriously cool! I was gonna wear it today but I thought better of it. You don't want to overdo these things.
So yeah, down the stairs I go, two at a time, and out the door. There's Harry. "All right, my son?" he sings out. That's the thing about Harry. Whatever state he's in, he's always got a friendly word. I swear, one night I tripped over him on my way home from a little soiree sort of thing in Clapham. I'd have called an ambulance, but he was snoring away, his grimy little hands wrapped round an empty bottle.
Anyway, yeah. So - maybe I should have skipped this bit, actually, what d'you think? - I got on the bus. So there I am, on the bus and - why aren't you drinking your coffee? But they always put cinnamon on it here, that's just what they do. And I get extra, because they all love me so much. Okay, well, ask them not to next time. Oh, give it here - the thing about the bus was, there was a cat on it. Yeah, a cat! Just an ordinary, everyday, common-or-garden cat. Well, no... to be honest, it wasn't ordinary. It was quite weird, really. For one thing, it had spines.
Are you going to eat that little biscuity thing?
The cat had been asleep. The bus was one of those big old tatty ones that rattle with complaints, you know, the ones they only get out when they really have to. This particular bus was used so rarely that the cat had been able to live undisturbed on its upper deck for about a month now. Drivers didn't like it because it was haunted by a ghost called Edna Smith. She travelled in it every day when she was alive. She wafted about causing drafts and then complaining about them. The cat didn't mind; if she didn't bother ghosts, they didn't bother her.
When the strange young man in the pink hat came and sat down next to her, the cat woke up. She hissed and crackled at the man, whose hair was several different colours. Jumping, he stared at her and she noticed that his t-shirt was horribly bright with nasty glittery bits on it.
"Oh my God," said the man, laughing. "I thought I was seeing things! It's a cat!" The cat wondered whether he were actually mentally subnormal, or just fashionably stupid. The cat knew about fashion and stuff; after all, she always read leftover copies of Hello and Heat.
"You are seeing things. Unless you're blind which I shouldn't wonder looking at that hat," muttered the cat.
The man looked astonished. "What's wrong with this hat? Oh my God, you can talk!"
"Yes," said the cat. "Yes, I can talk. Although generally I prefer to wait until there's someone around worth talking to."
He was unaffected by her searing wit, from the way he was grinning. This, thought the cat, must be what the expression 'punchable' meant.
"This is so cool!" said the man. "Wait till I tell my friends!"
The cat sat up and shuffled her spines. There were so many seats on this bus. Why, in the name of whatever, did they always have to choose hers?
"Oh my God!" said the man delightedly. "You've got spines!"
Spines, man! On a cat! Try and imagine. It was like... a cat. With spines. I asked, 'Are they spines or quills?' and it said spines.
So I introduced myself - well, what would you do? - and asked for its name. But it wouldn't tell me, just gave me this look, and said:
"I am a legendary beast and if you don't know my name, it's not for me to tell."
I think it was in a bit of a mood, to be honest. I'd woken it up. And it was weird, 'cos it was giving off this sort of blue static or something. Got worse the more I pissed it off. Started going on about how it used to be on first name terms with queens and princes and stuff about slaves and all that. Said it didn't know how it had come to this, that it was living on a derelict bus being molested by a 'moth-eaten metrosexual layabout.'
I didn't take offence, though. I figured it was probably a bit depressed.
"Look, mate," I said to it. "I'm sorry we got off on the wrong foot. I'll leave you alone if you want, but I don't get to meet that many interesting people around here. And you seem pretty interesting."
"Well," it said. "That's true. I am far more interesting than ninety-nine percent of life on this planet." It shuffled round on its seat, and it seemed to be a bit happier.
"Too right! Not everyone's got spines like that."
"No..." it mused. "No, it's mainly porcupines and hedgehogs. And me."
"And I bet you're really wise and that, too," I said.
"Wiser than you, certainly. Not that that would be difficult."
I dunno if it's just me - you're always saying I watch too much telly - but this cat was really starting to remind me of Anne Robinson. You know, Weakest Link?
"And," said the cat. "I have magical powers. I assume that would have been your next question."
Actually, I was going to ask it more about the spines - how do they work, how does it keep them clean, that sort of thing. But hey. "That's right! Magical powers, eh? Wow, that's... that's pretty cool." 'Cos, you've got to admit. It was.
The cat smiled. I mean, not really, but it looked like it was. Its spines were all smug.
"Nothing fancy," it said modestly. "Necromancy, wart removal. Basic weather-magic. Plagues, that sort of thing. I can organise crystallised rainbows and clouds with real silver linings. I can turn puppies inside out from a distance of several metres. Standard to luxury love potions, I do. Catering for weddings, funerals and bar-mitzvahs, at very reasonable rates."
"Amazing," I said. "That's really... did you say love potions?"
Human loneliness. The cat thought that she seemed to attract it, the way some people attracted mosquitoes. This man in the silly hat and the chipped magenta nail-polish simply reeked of it. Just like poor Edna Smith, hovering invisibly over their heads, her old sadness oozing slowly into the upholstery.
The cat huffed. She was cursed with the ability to see, in a myopic and limited way, into the future, and she'd already clocked the fact that this man would never actually pay. Still. She was bored.
"You want a love potion?"
The man looked slightly embarrassed. "Well, I dunno about a potion, exactly, I'm not sure - I mean..."
"Anyone specific?"
"Um. No, not really. Just, er... Just thought it'd be nice to..."
"People find you annoying, don't they?"
"Not all of them," the man protested in an injured tone. "Loads of people like me! They think I'm great and... fun."
The cat stifled a yawn.
"But they're not the ones you want," she said.
"No," said the man quietly.
"You like the other ones, don't you? The ones who leave the party early, don't seem to care whether or not you like them. The ones who look at you with that little smile - and what does it mean? You get the feeling they've seen right through you, and you're not sure whether to be hopeful or afraid."
"All right. You don't have to go on about it."
The cat sat in silence for a while, untangling the problem like a magical knot in her head. Sleep was all very well, but it felt good to be working again. Her spines pulsated gently, and her electricity crackled blue and green.
"Right," she said at last. "I think that's got it."
"Got what?" asked the man. He looked as though he was starting to regret catching this particular bus in the first place. "The, er, potion?"
"It's not exactly a potion," said the cat, and shot a spine straight into the man's heart.
It was shocking, I tell you. It really hurt. You know when you accidentally bang your elbow on something with corners? Yeah, was worse than that.
What did I do? I didn't do much, to be honest, because my stop was coming up. And I had to be in time for Linda, didn't I? So I binged the bell, and I was rushing to get down the stairs and get off the bus. It was like I'd almost forgotten about the pain and the cat and everything. Then I was outside, and the window was open and it was calling out my name.
"Oh, bye then!" I called back. "And thanks and that. I'll probably see you round, yeah?"
"You'll find your invoice in the left pocket of those hideous jeans," said the cat. And that was it.
Here, look at this. Found it in my pocket when I got home. Proves I didn't make it up. What do you reckon to that, then?
No, I didn't get it off the internet, thank you! I can't even read it, can you? Even if I could, how are you supposed to pay a spiny cat? Don't suppose it's got a Paypal account.
Did it work? I dunno. I don't feel any different. Maybe it hasn't kicked in yet. Haven't noticed any beautiful people throwing themselves at me. In fact, the only person I've seen lately is you. And Harry the Drunk, but I don't really fancy him. Call me old-fashioned, but I think people should try and hold onto at least a couple of teeth.
Mind you, it's not like I need it. People love me, don't they? What are you smiling like that for? What? What's so funny? You're mad, you are. Oh, come here, you've got...
Nothing, you had a bit of... you had a crumb on you.
Listen, come over later. I'll make those really ace margaritas I made at Dave's and I've got Strictly Come Dancing on tape! What? Well, all right, we can watch University Challenge first. But you'll have to bring the Jaffa Cakes.
the end
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2007-02-02 02:24 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2007-02-03 12:01 pm (UTC)