Something different

“So”, said Cujo, glowering at the terrified hobbit standing beside him, “I’m going to Australia maite. There ain’t no good sheep meat here”. The hobbit scurried off and returned with an odd bucket type of vessel- shaped like a turnip, and for no good reason at all, painted yellow. “Canary yellow!”, thought Cujo incredulously. They would do anything to make you cheerful here, terrified as they were of bad tempers and saying the wrong thing. Just yesterday he’d had a hard time shaking off the battalion of pointy nosed, bespectaled “Feel-gooders” that kept following him around the city suggesting things like a ‘nice cup of tea’, or an “inappropriately clothed nurse-with-questionable-morals fantasy”. When Cujo finally lost it and yelled at them to “Clear the frack off and leave him the hell alone!”, he thought they would weep. Grown men, at that! Now he stared at the bucket wondering what he was expected to do. Beside him the hobbit beamed. So Cujo glowered at him some more till the hobbit realized that Cujo wasn’t overjoyed or even rmotely elated. “Praxis!” , the hobbit squeaked as if this would make all things clear. “Your mother’s bloomers!”, growled an exasperated Cujo. “What IS it?” “This, sir- THIS is the QUASIHELIUMETTE.” Despite himself, Cujo was a little impressed. Finally, a unique invention, he thought. Laughing gas..maybe? “Well, what does it do?”, he finally asked as the hobbit continued to beam. “It’s a yellow turnip shaped bucket sir! It makes you laugh.” “How?” “Because it’s funny. A TURNIP shaped YELLOW bucket!Hahahaheehee” Pardon me sir, but I find it hard to control my laughter when I see it. Oh turnip! Haheehee!” “I would like”, Cujo said very slowly, “to go to bed.”

The next morning dawned bright and early, as mornings in general are wont to do. The sunbeams crept out of the sun’s nose and out of his every other orifice making their way into Cujo’s bed through the slit in his drawn curtains. Cujo was still dreaming when this happened. He was dreaming of his favourite things. For the most part this included the smell of freshly brewed coffee, his mother’s Mince Pot Pie, money turning up in unexpected places and Glen Harrison crying while his face turned interesting shades of purple and blue. Buried deep in the recesses of his mind was the burning desire to Do something- something spectacular. At the moment hwoever, this desire was masked by something even more urgent. “Godammit, I Need to pee!” Cursing his bladder for robbing him of a few extra minutes of slumber, Cujo woke up.

For an ex rockstar Cujo was an embarrassingly definite morning person. In the golden glow of the early morning sun, Cujo became almost…chirpy. Now having performed his bodily functions and groggily brushed his teeth, he was feeling the effects of his minty fresh breath and the cool crisp air. Then he realised that he shouldn’t be feeling any cool crisp air since he was inside the room. Cujo looked up and discovered a gaping hole in the ceiling. Though this partcular fissure could hardly be called a hole. It was a very neatly cut out square which was definitely not there when he went to sleep last night. Now Cujo stared up at the square not-a-hole and it gaped cheekily back at him as if to say, “Here I am! In all my glory! Hahahaheehee” As his mind filled up with “Hahahaheehee”s, Cujo’s temples filled up with a familiar sensation. It was one he had been facing ever since he’d arrived in this strange place filled with hobbits and not-a-holes. Cujo had a headache.