“Ah! Sheltering the plants from the heat, I see, good plan, Steven!” The booming Ah! Caused Steve to take a tumble from the roof of the greenhouse and mercifully land with a soft squelch into the pile of compost beside it.
“Oh, what a wonderful job you’ve done here. It looks so much better”
“Ah! You wrestled the jungle and subdued it to bend to your will, much like my great-great-great cousin famed explorer Bertrand who, I’ll have you know, was the first to chart the forests of the Sahara!”
“Oh dear, look you’ve got compost on you. Come now, take them clothes off and lets give them a wash” Sensing that Steve was a little shy about removing his clothes in front of his grandparents, his grandmother added “Oh, I think I’ve got some of your father’s old clothes still. Wait a moment while I get them”
Surprisingly, Steve’s grandfather didn’t have anything to say, he was panting slightly but he wasn’t sure if that was because of the heat or because of some other reason that Steve had no intention of exploring any further. Thankfully, Steve’s grandmother returned in a speedy fashion.
“Oh, you put these on and we’ll go make a cup of tea”
The clothes Steve’s grandmother had given him were from his father but also from a bygone era of flared trousers and large ruffled collars with big cuffs that went up to the elbow all in ghastly and garish hues that would even make a colour blind person vomit.
Looking thoroughly dissatisfied with his new attire, Steve’s grandparents returned with a tea kettle and three cups. Then they hurried back inside and returned once more with a tea-dolly full of cakes and a basket of bread. Then they repeated this process until the patio table was covered in an assortment of crumpets, cakes, biscuits, bread, butter, spreads and of course the tea.
“Ah! Nothing like a spot of tea on a lovely summer’s afternoon”
“Oh, spoken like a true poet my dear”
“Ah! Must be from great-great-grandpappy Baron Winston, who wrote world-renowned poems on the virtues of romance. I think one comes to mind now. Jerome, Jerome, where for art thou, Jerome? Shall I compare thee to a mid-summer night’s reverie? Or will Richard’s third wine bring thou home to thee?”
“Oh dear, you had me at Jerome”
“Ah! Getting a little late I see, Steven, best you get home to your mother and father now”
“Oh Richmond, how shall we repay Steven for his most professional service?”
“Ah! Yes, a kingly job deserves a kingly sum. Here you are, Steven. Don’t spend it all on sweets”
“Oh my! I almost forgot about your clothes. I’ll have them sent over in the morning”
Great must I wear this crime against fashion all the way home? Steve’s fear of the fashion police was very real, they’re a formidable force that instead of arrest you, simply follow you around pointing and laughing until you finally give up and run into the nearest clothing store to purchase a totally new outfit. It doesn’t help that they have jurisdiction over every changing room in every store, making it somewhat awkward if you have to change your underwear too.
Steve had just been ferried out of the front door and onto the paved passage leading to the road. He closed his eyes and braced himself for the swathes of embarrassment that were to follow. But there were none. Steve opened his eyes again and was stood outside of his front door as if the journey there and the bus ride had never happened. He reasoned that his mind put itself in auto-pilot to save the psyche from being subjected to traumatic levels of embarrassment. Steve put his key in the lock and opened the door to be greeted by his father who displayed an expression of shock and admiration in equal levels.
“Lovin’ the new threads, Steve. Very hip” It was difficult to tell if he was being sarcastic or not, however, considering Steve was wearing his father’s old clothes, it was likely that the compliment was genuine. The fashion police would have a field day with his sense of design.
As if to add insult to injury, Steve’s mother popped round the corner to see who the new arrival was, she promptly burst out laughing when she saw Steve’s outfit, causing Steve to sprint upstairs and into his room to get out of the monstrosity and into the more befitting t-shirt and jeans combination.
That night was much like any other night, it was the morning that was a tad bizarre as Steve woke up on the sofa at his grandparent’s house. As Steve is want to sleep naked you can take a guess at what he was wearing (or lack thereof). He figured he must’ve been dreaming, likely a result of having too much cheese before bed time, but when he pulled out all the stops of pinching himself, clenching his eyes shut and doing a few star jumps, he realised that – having exhausted all tried and tested methods – he was in fact awake. What’s more, he could hear soft footsteps heading down the stairs followed by the occasional ‘Ah!’
What was he to do? Steve turned left and right as if to scope out an escape route, but what then? He was naked as the day he was born and would have to travel 45 minutes via bus to get home, longer still if he walked. His grandfather passed the room and into the bathroom without glancing in to see a naked Steve. Thank goodness for the elderly and their poor eyesight Steve thought (because he couldn’t exactly speak out loud in case his grandparents heard him so of course he kept the thoughts to himself).
Steve was beginning to sweat now, he couldn’t fathom a means to flee nor could he fathom how he ended up there. Steve could hear the flushing and knew that it meant his grandfather would have to walk past again, but there was no place to hide that would adequately shield his person from sight. Steve floundered, motionless as his grandfather turned to enter the room.
“Ah!”
Steve hadn’t even blinked at the moment of terror, which made it all the more confusing when his surroundings transformed into that of his own bedroom. Steve was stood in the middle of the room, he had barely finished his panicked gasp when he realised that it must’ve been a terrible dream. A very vivid and lucid dream, but a dream nonetheless. Given the circumstances, it made sense why he would dream of his grandparent’s house after having spent the entirety of the previous day there, however, it was the vividness and realism of the dream that alarmed Steve.
There was a rumble on the driveway as a car pulled up, it wasn’t time for Steve’s dad to return, nor did his mother have any plans to meet friends, so he didn’t know who it could be. That was until he remembered his grandparents offering to drop his clothes round that day. Damn! After last night’s romp through his subconscious, Steve did not want to see his grandparents, he knew that he wouldn’t be able to get the dream out of his head. Unfortunately because it was his grandparents who arrived and not some family friend, Steve had no choice but to go downstairs and sit with them while they drank their tea. If it were simply a family friend, Steve could just stay in his room and hide until they eventually left. Alas, that wasn’t the case, and so Steve donned his usual outfit and gathered up his father’s old clothes to return to his grandparents.
“Ah! Steven, nice to see you with clothes on!” Steve’s mother raised an eyebrow at her father-in-law’s remark.
“Oh, Steven, Richmond was telling me of the strangest dream he had last night”
“Ah! Yes! Mighty strange indeed, it felt so real. But my eyes aren’t what they used to be of course”
“Oh here are your clothes, Steven. Freshly cleaned and dry” His grandmother handed him the soft bundle, they really were impeccably cleaned and had a faint smell of lavender about them. In return, Steve handed his grandmother the somewhat crinkled and creased bundle of his father’s old clothes.
“Oh, don’t worry about those, Steven. You can keep hold of them. They look rather dashing”
Great.
“Would you like a cup of tea?” Steve’s mother dreaded asking the question but was bound by the shackles of civility.
“Ah! Tea would be champion my dear. Mighty kind of you”
“Oh yes, tea would be exquisite”
As Steve’s mother wandered into the kitchen to pu
t the kettle on, Steve led his two grandparents into the living room to take a seat on the sofa.
“Ah! The dream was very strange. Felt like I was really there”
“Oh, Steven, he came back to bed all flustered”
“Ah! But you see, it must’ve been a dream or a trick of the light. You see, I went downstairs for my nightly tipple of sherry and a tinkle, but when I walked passed the lounge I saw who I thought was you stark-bollock naked in the middle of the room”
“Oh Steven, you really must invest in a nice pair of pyjamas”
“Ah! That would be a capital idea! Perhaps it was the sherry or the tinkle that made my eyes deceive me, when you get to my age, going to the bathroom is as much of an adventure as trekking up a mountain. Nonetheless, one instant you were there and the next you weren’t. Mighty strange indeed”
Steve’s mother had entered the room with the aforementioned tea, knowing full well that one sip will be taken and then the remainder will be left to go cold as the pair waffle on about nonsensical trivia.
“Oh Steven I know a lovely little place that sells pyjamas, I could knit you a pair if you like?”
“Ah! My dear, knitting is certainly your forte. Must’ve been passed down from the second cousin of great-great nephew Herbert – finest craftsman of knitted dungarees south of Shrewsbury”
“Oh yes, his embroidery patterns are still used to this day I’ll have you know!”
As if the elderly pair had rehearsed it, they both took a sip of tea simultaneously followed by a release of two sighs of delight. Bizarrely, the grandmother’s sigh was a whole octave lower than that of the grandfather and yet the harmony was perfect. A ten-out-of-ten would be awarded to the pair if synchronised sipping was a thing people cared about.
The tea had indeed gone cold by the time the grandparent’s made to leave after regaling the disinterested crowd of Steve and his mother about family history that was more than likely made up. At times it was fun to humour them, when Steve was younger, he believed every single one of the tall tales but grew cynical as he learned more and more about how the world works and his infinitesimally small role in it.
“I thought second cousin of great-great nephew Herbert was the one who was caught cattle rustling in a coal mine” His mother had heard them all and then some in the duration she had been with Steve’s father, she liked to tease them about it but eventually grew weary of the tales. She must’ve looked at her watch countless times during their visit – which was strange considering she wasn’t wearing a watch.
Both Steve and his mother felt a little exhausted after listening to over an hour of tall tales, it was easy to switch off but then you’d be brought right back into the conversation with an onomatopoeic burst. Just when you start to dose off, you hear a loud “Ah!” and suddenly you’re right back in the thick of whatever nonsense is being spewed.
Steve, however, was feeling more than exhausted, he was also following a strange and incomprehensible line of thought.
If his grandfather had seen him – regrettably naked – in his living room, and Steve had dreamed of being in his grandfather’s living room – regrettably naked – then it stands to reason that Steve was actually there. He wrestled with the idea for a while but couldn’t make heads or tails of it. It wasn’t physically, chemically nor anthropomorphically possible to instantaneously transport oneself from place to place. Was it?
Steve clenched his eyes shut and pictured his living room in his mind. His mother yelped downstairs but when he opened his eyes again he was still sat on his bed in his room. He tried again, picturing every detail of the living room. Downstairs his mother yelped again, when Steve opened his eyes, his mother knocked on the door and then opened it. Another fine display of breaking and entering.
“Oh, there you are” Steve’s mother held an expression of confusion as she stared at her son and then shook her head and retreated from the room, failing to close the door again behind her. Naturally, if Steve was going to be testing out super-powers then he would have to do it with the door shut and the curtains closed in case anyone saw him attempt such a stupid thing and therefore think he needed psychiatric help. He wasn’t about to be carted off to the hospital in a strait jacket any time soon, and so Steve closed the door and shut the curtains. Perhaps I need to darkness to control it. He turned off the light and the room fell into a monochromatic palette.
Steve picked up an old school tie and wrapped it around his head as a blindfold. He told himself that it would help him focus but in reality it was because he thought it made him look cool. Word to the wise, wearing a blindfold alone in the bedroom does not make you look cool, wearing it in the bedroom with someone else also in the room with you is a whole lot more fun. Steve assumed a meditation pose, or at least what he perceived to be a meditation pose, cross legged on the floor with his thumb touching his two middle fingers in a similar fashion to metal fans. He even went so far as to chant ‘Ommmmmmm’. Steve explored the depths of his mind for a place to transport to but couldn’t think of anywhere suitable. He eventually decided to transport himself from his bed to his chair, a meagre metre away, as the door was closed and the curtains drawn, he determined that this would be a safe option.
“Ommmmm” his mantra echoed around the room. Suddenly, Steve could feel the softness of the mattress fade away and transform into the hard metal of his chair. Elated, he wrenched the blindfold from his eyes only to find that he was still on his bed. Disappointed, Steve gave up on his folly and resumed his day-to-day “activities”.
When it was time to sleep, Steve put on some underwear, unusual for him, but after the strange events of the past few days he felt it was a prudent precaution. He tossed and turned while trying to get to sleep, the so-called dream of his grandparent’s house circling over and over in his mind alongside all of the other unfathomable occurrences. How did he appear in his grandparent’s house? How did he get home that night? As his thoughts were running laps round his head, Steve lay on his back and opened his eyes.
It took him a while to realise that the ceiling was much closer to his face than he thought and had changed from an off-white to a deep brown. He was lay in the back seat of his father’s car. He recognised it from all of the times that his dad took him to school in it, all those years and he hadn’t once changed his car. When he sat upright and looked out of the window, he did not recognise his surroundings. It was parked on a random street and not at the office where he’d expected it to be. When Steve tried to open the car door it was locked and so he was trapped inside, he tried again but to no avail, in a pathetic attempt to make the door unlock through sheer force of will. He gave up and lay back to transport himself back home. As he was picturing his room in his mind, he heard a door close and two people exchange their farewells. He instantly recognised the voice of his dad, but the other voice he hadn’t heard before. It was a sultry female voice and warranted Steve to sneakily look through the window at what was transpiring at the house opposite. He saw his father and the strange woman kissing their goodbyes, as if simply saying goodbye wasn’t enough. All these times he thought his dad was working the night shift, coming home at random hours when it was more than likely he was at this woman’s house. Steve’s father turned to walk towards his car as Steve slammed back into the car seat and clenched his eyes shut. He was angry, confused, and just wanted to get the hell away from there. When he opened his eyes, he was home.
Steve’s father was asleep when Steve woke up, he knew the secret, but felt he couldn’t share it, especially with his mother who called him to breakfast.
“Steve, breakfast” Steve calmly got up and dressed for the day. He closed his eyes and when he reopened them was in the kitchen. Steve wanted to scream with joy at having accomplished the impossible, but was held back by the previous night’s revelation. His mother hadn’t noticed Steve’s sudden arrival and so when she turned round she was less than pleased.
“Steve! How many times do I have to tell you not to sneak up on me like
that?!” She thrust a bowl of porridge towards him, this time with strawberries falling victim to the sinking of HMS Banana.
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