This was not unusual. Firstly, because doors have a thing about being opened. Many people take this for granted, the ability of doors to be opened, perhaps not enough credit is given. The technology of doors has progressed, from the humble handle, to the more upper class door knob. Then the controversial push door came along, and many people thought this was an outrage. If we could live in that moment once again I’m sure there would be literally dozens of people complaining. Dozens I tell you. Nowadays everything has to be done wirelessly, or with as much security as possible. So you either have those doors which open when they register you are nearby, or a trolley which looks a bit like a person. Or a trolley which it detects thinks like a human. Or even a racoon, pretending to be a trolley which can think like a human, from within a one hundred kilometre radius of said door. The other option with these security doors requires you to watch a short summary of your life so far to ensure you know the answers to all the security questions to ensure you are you. Only after all that effort is spent do they check your DNA, because you know, your glad that they spent that much effort ensuring you are you and not an impostor who coincidentally has the same DNA. Honestly.
This door, however, was of the ‘opening because it detects someone who might want to use it today has just woken up in the morning’ kind. It was considered a solid business plan that this sort of door was preferred to the security type when it came to DIY shop entrances. Customers find it a lot easier to get in, and a lot easier to get out once they wake up to the concept how much effort doing DIY would be compared to paying someone else to do it.
The shop assistant looked up from his quickly cooling cup of brown textured water with hints of what may or may not be something that vaguely resembles coffee. Or tea. On one of the quieter days the assistant had actually opened up the drinks machine to see if there really was a difference. He found only one, and that was for the same product, the coffee was five pence cheaper. Since that discovery he had saved over twenty pounds, but perhaps that was just saying something about the amount of coffee he drunk. Or the amount of time he had worked there. Whichever is less depressing.
Still, even with the mystery which was the exact contents of his drink, the door opening distracted his attention. A customer? What a novel concept at this time in the morning. He looked to see who it was. No one there. A few seconds past, more cold air was blown in, making the temperature plummet to just about what it was outside. Seconds past, and still no one came in. After roughly half a minute, and with a large sigh of relief from the assistant, a man walked in carrying a glass bowl. Not an ordinary glass bowl however, oh no, this had not only water in it, and some rocks and plant life, but real fish. Yes, hold your excitement I know it can be hard sometimes but please try, but it did contain real live goldfish. Amazing. He walked over to the assistants desk, and unceremoniously plonked the bowl on top.
‘Bit chilly in here’ the man remarked, rubbing his hands together. The assistant rolled his eyes. ‘Right’ said the man, casting his eyes around the store at all the tools and materials he could use on a pointless, over budget free time consuming project. His eyes lit up with delight at the thought. ‘I would like some paint, in the colour of that goldfish.’ He pointed to one of the fish, touching the glass as he did so. The fish, in its own strange world somehow forgot there was a glass side to the bowl, and that in all honesty it wasn’t particularly partial of eating peoples fingers, opened its mouth to take a bite. It hit its head into the side of the bowl, and retreated with a dazed expression’.
‘The stupid one?’ the shop assistant asked, obviously wanting to ensure that exactly the right shade of annoyingly bright orange was made.
‘That’s the one’ the man replied, ‘when today can I expect the paint to be ready?’
‘When’ the shopkeeper repeated with thoughtful slowness, and the swift raising of eyebrows, ‘today? Not sure I understand.’
‘You do mix up paints don’t you?’
‘Well, in theory’. The shop assistant scratched his head and reached for a his cup of coffee, before he remembered what it was and thought against it. ‘But that’s a fish.’
‘Yes, I want the paint in the colour of that fish.’
‘And you can’t just find that on a Dulux colour chart?’
‘Obviously not, I have much better things to do with my time.’
The shop assistant thought about this one. Here was a man, who carefully had taken a fish bowl from his home, and to this store. A DIY store, the start of so many quests which can be successfully labelled as ‘wastes of time’, saying he had better things to be doing. Right. ‘So you will pay me, to stand here and work out the exact colour of that fish, and to make you some paint?’
‘That’s right, someone like yourself who I’m sure has an A-level in geography must be able to deal with simple colour work such as that.’
At last, thought the assistant, a use for my time at school, and investment into those colouring pencils. A smile crossed his face at work for the first time in many months. ‘Call in this afternoon Sir, I’ll have it ready for you then.’
‘Very good, just make sure when I come back that fish and my paint are exactly the same colour.’
It was on these words that the man promptly walked out, and a clever plan came into the shop assistants mind. Customer wants paint the same colour as his fish. To this, there was a simple solution.
When the man walked back in, he was greeted with a bucket of pure white waterproof paint, two white fish in a glass bowl, and a smile from the assistant.
March 4th, 2006
The tumbleweed was confused. It had travelled many countries, through the harshest of winds and the wettest of days. It could remember vividly that the ground went thump, or a soft bump, or on the odd strange occasion squelch. But never crunch, not like this. This wasn’t leaves, it could recognise leaves. They fell from trees and are commonly magically attracted to railway lines. It wasn’t like that, it was like powder, it was white, and most of all it was ever so cold. This confused the tumbleweed, being a creature of very little brain, and it was never very good at remembering. Only the other day it forgot which way was left or right, and the nearest badger was most unhelpful with directions.
This however, was a different matter. The coldness was more than confusing, it was disturbing. Tumbleweed are not creatures of the cold, they are creatures of warmth and dryness. Sure it was a lonely life, but there was always the occasional cacti to run into, and it usually got quite a good extra’s wage from the old western films. Twice the tumbleweed was actually put in the credits, probably its finest hour. Well, if you were a tumbleweed, getting recognised is what its all about. Egotistic little balls of plant life they are, but they lead a happy life. This tumbleweed, out of work since the filming of ‘firefly’ was cancelled mid-season, decided it would be a good opportunity to travel the world. So it did. Plane fares for tumbleweed aren’t half bad you know.
The tumbleweed was uncomfortable with the crunching though. Once or twice it saw a white person, seemingly at one with this strange blanket on the world. Not very talkative however, or at least extremely resistant to the most advanced form of interrogation a tumbleweed was capable of. I’ll leave that one to your imaginations.
It didn’t have too long to ponder upon the problem though, as it happened to run into a dinner table. The tumbleweed usually quite liked dinner tables, it was the end of society he liked to think he belonged to. It kept a weary eye on this one however, because it was all white, and he was distrustful of such a colour at this moment in time. Not as distrustful as he was of the napkins on the table however, they were more than white, they were positively gleaming.
Cold, confused and with a quickly advancing state of paranoia, the tumbleweed was not in a good state. It was appropriate at that moment then, that God was strolling by. You know, as he does, I’m surprised you haven’t seen him more often. Honestly how unobservant must you be. Anyway, the tumbleweed decided as the opportunity had arose, it might as well get some answers. It enquired as to the trustfulness of the napkins.
‘Napkins eh?’ God chuckled, stroking his chin. He was going for a modern slick look at the moment, losing the beard, keep him in the with kids and all that. ‘I wouldn’t want to touch them if I were you, they’re not ordinary napkins. Oh no. This table was set up by them theoretical physicist chaps. Evening now though, soon as six o’clock came, off to the pub with the lot of them. They wouldn’t be too happy with you if you mucked up their experiment now would they?’
The tumbleweed was intrigued by this, always partial to a bit pf physics now and again. You would be surprised how popular it is amongst desert life, they may not have the equipment, but they sure as hell have the ideas.
‘How is this an experiment?’ God said, repeating the tumbleweed’s question. ‘To be honest, not got a clue. All I heard was it was integral to the balance of the universe, and could ruin everything if touched. Just thought you should know.
A warning would never stop a tumbleweed, and this one had heard its fair share of threats in it’s time. Comes from being in westerns. It hurriedly formulated a plan, and informed God that there was some sinful grass just behind him, and that it should get a proper ‘old-skool’ smiting, if you know what I mean.
Whilst God was off investigating (it was awhile since God had smote anything, had to prove he still had it) the tumbleweed hopped onto the table, and, checking over its equivalent of a shoulder to see that God wasn’t looking, touched the nearest napkin. There was a loud pop, a pause of a few seconds when everything went fuzzy. Then it all disappeared, all of it. The table, the napkins, the sky, the ground. It was all black. All that was left was the tumbleweed, and God. The thoughts of the tumbleweed were along the lines of ‘oh cheesecakes’.
God rolled his eyes. ‘Now you’ve gone and done it haven’t you. Just couldn’t keep away. You idiot of a small ball of dry plant life. I suppose I better go and fix this mess.’ God reached into his pocket, and took out his mobile. No reception. He closed his eyes for a moment, and beside him a microwave transmitter appeared. He saw that it was vaguely ok, but wasn’t quite in the same league as the planets. Must have got a bit rusty on the whole creation thing.
He phoned up his house, as with high property prices at the moment, that son of his was still at living with him. ‘Hey there Jesus, little favour if you don’t mind, hit the universal restart switch would you, ta.’ Ending the call he glanced at his phone, ‘must remember to recharge this sometime, battery life just ain’t what it used to be.’
It wasn’t long until things started to change again. First everything was blue, then green. Then back to black. Then the Windows logo appeared in what used to be the sky, but disappeared for a few seconds. Then it went blue, back to black, and finally the world reappeared. The tumbleweed sighed it’s relief. It hadn’t destroyed the Universe. It was a good thing.
God was just opening his mouth to give the tumbleweed a good talking to, when a grey rectangle appeared in front of him. It was covered in a small amount of writing, and it read a bit like this:
God swept it aside, ‘God knows about it, believe me. So infuriating, last time I trust Gates with this OS stuff.’ He strode up to the tumbleweed. ‘Well, really you should get a good smiting for that little stunt, but I’m a little tired and really can’t be bothered. So just consider yourself admonished and don’t do it again. But I suppose I better send you on your way, preferably the other side of the world, you don’t want to be around when those physicists get back. See you around.’
And with a small pop, the tumbleweed found himself by the sea, in a slightly more temperate climate. Overall, it thought it got off that quite easily, and now, now it might go sailing, with no one around to bother it. Or so it hoped. That hope lasted about twenty seconds.
‘Look! A tumbleweed! Lets go poke it!’
February 25th, 2006
“I bet you that helicopter doesn’t move”…
Said one rock, in a long bored voice, to it’s neighbour.
“You what?”
“I bet you” the rock repeated, the tiredness in it’s voice perhaps an indicator that it never should have started the conversation, “that helicopter over there doesn’t move in the next half an hour.”
“You know your problem?” the second rock, with its up-most politeness replied “You listen to those Humans far too much. That’s what they were saying earlier wasn’t it? I heard them, you can’t lie to me. They come over here, thinking it ‘controversially cool’ to sit on a rock staring out to sea for awhile, not caring about the rocks underneath, oh no. Not realising the irritation of having a bad dropped on its head. It was a heavy bag as well you know, I have the bump to prove it.”
“Oh yeah?” the first rock realised by this point that starting a conversation really was a bad plan, but with the lack of better things to do, it thought it better see it through to the end. “So where’s the bruise?”
“Bruise? I’m a rock for God’s sake!”
“Oh convenient excuse.”
“Don’t give me that” the second rock was getting a little irritated now, a seagull had landed on it and wasn’t in the mood for moving. The second rock hated seagulls, in his opinion, they were lazy gits who should go and get proper jobs. Sea combing really didn’t count. “That bag had a hard cover book in it! Those things hurt you know. Who carries a hard cover book around with them?”
“She does obviously. At least their reading. Kids these days really far too lazy. I mean, I would read if I could, just the small problem of not having eyes. Or legs to get the books. Or money. Or a brain. But you know, apart from that…”
“Bah, those books weren’t meant for reading, they were obviously gonna use them to beat up some defenceless pebble when they were out of sight.”
“Oh, stop your fussing, that pebble will survive, its bade of hard stuff. At least it won’t get kidnapped by, oh, what do they call them?”
“Tourists?”
“That’s the one, damn tourists.”
The second rock sighed “Twill be the summer soon, then we’ll have people crowding to sit on us. I suppose we better get used to it. To be honest, I think I’m one of the better rocks to sit on. Good sturdy top. That human seemed to compliment me anyway, he said I was to be commended.”
The first rock could see where this was going, once that neighbour of him got boastful, there was no stopping him. “He was complimenting her choice anyway, you egotistic clump of regular minerals. Anyway, you lost.”
“Lost? Lost what?”
“The helicopter moved….”
And so it continued, until it rained. This shut the rocks up. It also got rid of the seagull, much to it’s displeasure, as its seat on the rock was just getting warm. But it flew off, in search of shelter. Later on, it found a crisp on the floor, and ate it. Overall it thought it a good day.
As the evening drew on, the rocks were still bickering until the tide came in.
February 14th, 2006
Trees and Sunshine
‘Do you think’ said my Brother, walking with me through the forest this ever so cold afternoon, ‘that the trees should form an agreement. I mean, they all try to be so tall to get the sunlight, but if they were all small, it would be so much easier.’
I pondered on this for a moment, before the answer came to be.
‘Its because’ I ventured, ‘they can’t beat the hell out of each other. The way I look at it, is that we Humans are a reasonable bunch, and can get along with each other and co-operate and all that jazz, but the only reason we can make such wonderful arrangements is because, from time to time, we can just beat anyone who doesn’t agree with us. Makes a nice society. These trees though, their greedy.’
‘Greedy?’
‘Like accountants. But their stuck in the ground, can’t go to the nearest neighbour and say ‘oi, get out my sunlight’ can they, so they just have to grow.’
And that, it seemed, was that. So you know, trees just don’t grasp society, and that’s a fact that should be remembered.
A little time later, walking in roughly the opposite direction (convenient on a circular walk no?) we were blessed by the full force of the sunshine, warming us up slightly. For no particular reason, the fact that this light was seven and a bit minutes old was brought into conversation.
‘Lazy light’ I commented, ‘Speed of light really isn’t fast enough for your modern day person, must remember to get it increased sometime’
‘You can’t insult the light’ interjected my Brother, ‘Its spent its entire lifetime trying to get here, and to do what? Collide with your face that’s all.’
‘What a disappointing end, I mean, you can imagine in photon heaven, the groups of little photons are grouped together, telling their stories. One might say that it was there when JFK was shot, others may mention they were present at the moon landing, the football supporting ones may mention some world cup or other, but a few would shy away from such a crowd, and when asked what they did would say that they collided with my face. Think of the photons I’m embarrassing’
After much head shaking, it was decided that though I do humiliate the occasional photon, I didn’t embarrass the yoghurt I ate at lunch, because that’s not conscious. Or if it is, it doesn’t really care too much. Yoghurt heaven is so not an interesting place. But photons, totally different story.
So the next time your out in the sunshine, enjoying yourself, remember the photons, they have feelings too you know.
February 11th, 2006
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