Thursdays With Uncle Boom #32

I had gone down to meet my good friend Dobson Dobberson in his workshop. A fine fellow despite having a face like a leopards tit. He had contacted me and said he had to speak to me right away. He had gone so far as to demand that I came down to see him.

Normally such a demand would be met by a stern caning from me and perhaps a stout punching of the penis but Dobson and I went way back and I knew that it had to be important.

I pushed my way into his workshop.

Now then old fellow, what is so bloody urgent that you had to see me right away?

Dobson looked up from something that looked like a glowing green goldfish bowl.

Ah there you are old chap! Am I glad to see you!

I got close enough to give him a little smack on the arse with my cane.

Out with it man. What was so important you got me down here before midday? I have barely had time for a drink!

Dobson looked stricken, like a labrador with a candle stuck up its arse.

My goodness, we can't have that. Here.

He pulled a bottle of brandy out from under the bench and poured us a couple of glasses. We drank them and had several more. I lit my pipe and breathed a big puff of my new baccy Down Under Thunder which smelt magnificently of pine resin and fear.

That's better. So old fellow. Pray tell. What can I do for you?

Dobson removed his pipe and settled into a ruminating position.

Well old chap. You know I invented that bloody time machine back there?

He motioned to the odd-looking phone box contrivance behind him covered in copper wiring.

Yes yes, How could I forget that day.

Well, I haven't used it since. In fact, I became worried that perhaps by having used it we might have damaged the quantum flux of time in some way creating all sorts of paradoxes which could ultimately unravel the whole of creation and well, you know. That would be kind of bad.

I grunted, like a badger making love to a Peacock. I think I had fallen asleep.

What's that got to do with me?

Dobson gestured at the glowing green goldfish bowl thing.

Well, I decided to try and fashion some kind device to gauge the health of the quantum flux of time to see if it was damaged in any way... and if it were, to see if we could fix it?

What a load of pish man. Don't tell me, you have found something wrong and you want somebody as handsome and brave as fuck to go and have a looky.

Dobson looked at me with astonishment tinged with admiration.

Once again you cut to the quick dear chap! So, I created such a device and this is it here. When I switched it on it just gave me one result.

He swivelled the bowl around, the numbers 1971 floated eerily inside it.

I don't get it. So what does that mean? Is it some kind of cypher? 9-1 equals 8 and 7+1 also equal 8? And two 8's... Two fat ladies?

Dobson smiled.

Nothing so complex old fellow. In fact, it is just a year. Something is amiss in the year 1971 and I think it's vital that we... well, not me. I mean, someone should go and investigate to see what's wrong and if we can... well, fix it?

I took a long and deep puff of my pipe.

Oh fuck it, alright then. I've been a bit bored lately anyway.

I stepped out of Dobson's time travelling machine into the year 1971 and looked around with some distaste.

Hmmph, not much different by the looks of things except that most of the chaps seem to have rolled their cheeks in their respective ladies minges after liberally applying some glue.

I set off at a brisk walk. I had no idea what to look for. Dobson had merely said to be on the lookout for something that might need fixing. I was glad I had topped up my hip flask.

After some time wandering the streets I was bored shitless.

Fuck it.

I muttered to myself. I am going back and I will tell Dobson to stick his cuntum health widget up his Willy Wonka. As I turned on my heel though I saw something...

Mother? Is that you?

A stern raven-haired lady was getting out of a car in front of me. She turned, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

You there, what did you say?

I realised my faux-pas. It was indeed my Mother but she was hardly likely to recognise her little boomy given that she hadn't even given birth to me yet.

Apologies madam, you reminded me of someone I once knew.

She drew her top lip up into a magnificent sneer.

Hmm, I do hope you don't mean some dirty stop-out from the docks?

Oh no madam, never that.

I smiled and gave a small gentleman's bow. She made a suspicious hamster face then imperiously pointed at some boxes in the back of her car.

Well, you don't look like a common vagabond so be a chap and help me in with those boxes.

I quickly hefted them up and followed her up the path into what I now recognised as my childhood home. She directed me to deposit them in the corner of the large hallway which I did with a flourish.

May I trouble you for a glass of water madam?

I smiled reassuringly at her.

She snorted contemptuously, like a filly that has inhaled a bee.

You can have something a little stronger than that if you like.

I would be delighted to madam.

I followed her into the sitting room of my childhood and stopped short at the door. She looked over her shoulder and saw me staring at the man who sat in a large easy chair drinking some tea and reading a newspaper.

I had never known him. He had left before I was born. My mother had always claimed him to be a rascal and a villain with a dark heart. She had always looked slightly wistful when she said such things and now here he was. I finally got to meet him.

I was not impressed. He looked a meek fellow with a face like a sweaty oysters quim. I looked in the mirror over the mantle and admired my own handsome visage and compared it to his. I could see no similarity. In fact, he was quite ordinary looking.

Perhaps it was selfish but I had hoped to have been sired by finer stock.

I bounded over to him and stuck out my hand.

Hello dear fellow, pleased to meet you!

He looked up, squinting slightly and gave my hand a limp and briny shake. I furrowed my brow in distaste. My Mother passed me a glass brimming with Brandy.

A phone rang in the hall. She left the room to answer it and came back moments later.

George, I have to pop over to Eleanor's with something. Can you entertain our guest till he finishes his brandy?

He looked up mousily.

Of course, of course, my dear. I will show him the new well in the garden!

My mother said goodbye and left, leaving me with the alleged rascal that was my Father. He stood up. I noticed with some distaste that he was wearing corduroy.

Come, this way dear chap. You will love this. I just got a well installed in the garden. It's a fine thing!

I followed him out. The back garden was a long affair and at the very bottom in a sheltered spot was an old well I remembered from my youth. My mother had always warned me not to drink from it. Said that the water was spoiled. Seemed a bloody waste if you asked me.

He proudly explained the engineering behind it all and became quite animated talking about the depth and method of its construction. He became so excited I began to fear he would get his Jim Henson out and start fucking it.

He seemed to notice at last that I had not spoken for some time and looked at me quizzically.

Are you ok old chap? You look a little... peculiar?

Tell me, old fellow? Why didn't you have a brandy just now?

Oh goodness me, brandy? Alcohol? I don't drink, that's why. Never could stand the taste of the stuff!

I smiled then. A smile of dark and endless night. My decision was made. I would not be sired from this womble of a man. I would rather not exist than be the progeny of this non-drinking maggot.

I stepped up close, my cane levelled and prodding at his chest.

Know this dear fellow. You are a weak and pitiful wretch, not fit to lick my arse after a shit. It is time for you to die and if that means me ceasing to exist then so be it.

My father backed up against the well.

What? What? Cease to what ?? Are you mad? Get out, get out of here now before I call the police! Noooo, aaarrggrgghhh...

My cane had lashed out and jabbed him over the lip of the well. There was a muffled splash as he fell over and plunged to the bottom.

I was fully aware of what I had done. I had travelled back in time and killed my own Father. Even now time would be correcting itself as my actions unravelled my very own creation. I held my arms out to the side and looked up at the sky.

For without a Father, how now could I exist?

A minute or so passed. Strangely, I had not dissolved into the ether.

Bugger, that's odd?

How could I still be here without a Father to have sired me? Most bloody peculiar. Oh well, I suppose I would have to head back to Dobson and tell him there was nothing to see here.

Cooee!

I looked up toward the house.

My mother was there, she was holding two brandy glasses.

I see you are still here, do you fancy another?

She smiled at me invitingly with her fierce eyes. I felt a slight stirring in my yardarm. I looked at the well, then I looked back up at her. I raised an eyebrow. Without a Father, how could I exist...

Where's George?

She called.

I walked up and took the offered Brandy.

He said he was popping out to the shops or some shit. Said he might be gone a while.

I smiled handsomely at her. She flicked her raven black hair over her shoulder and smiled back before leading me indoors.

I stepped out of the time machine.

Dobson was there looking slightly anxious.

Are you ok, old chap? The Quantum anomaly detector shows the all clear now. What was the problem? Did you fix it?

I grinned.

Oh Dobson...