Virgin mojito and a bottle of rum

Chapter 1. Midnight memories

“Nay, but there are rocky mounts, and barren sands, from whence he comes, and more oft than not, not a soul is there for thine eyes to perceive.” said my visitor somewhat reluctantly.

“Wut the actual fuck are you on about bruv?”

“But all that is there, the iron of the smith, the blade of the rogue, the plough of the reaper, the song of the lassies, the wails of the sick, the tittering of the rich, every piece of rock, every grain of dust, everything, belongs. Everything but him. For a poet he is, and outcasts poets are.”

“Dude seriously, are you stoned? I need wut you smoke that’s some good shit right there man, turning you into Shakespeare and all.”

It took him long enough to finish and even longer for me to figure out what he was trying to say.

Last time I saw him was four years ago in England, somewhere west of Birmingham. My father had to visit for work and it was my birthday, so we thought it would be a good family vacation.

And here he was today, standing in my bedroom. Four feet tall at most, fat as a hog, he was a strange sight indeed, what with his fancy accent and all, and to top it off, with a pointed Gandalf hat on his head. He looked like a crossover between Gimli from LOTR and Big Ears from Noddy.

“And what about you? Didn’t you call yourself an outcast the last time we met?”

“Aye, but he is by choice, while me… I don’t even remember why they cast me out.”

“Okay. So you traveled halfway across the globe to meet me so that I can help you rescue your friend who you say is captured by some evil wizards?”

“True” he said, with a grin that bared his golden teeth. Or was it plaque? I don’t know. At least his breath didn’t smell.

“And what makes you think I’m gonna help?” I asked as coldly as possible.

“Knowledge of the fact that you owe me your life and freedom” he retorted proudly, arms on his hips and puffing up his chest.

“Oh come on, all you did was guide me out of a forest, a really small one at that. I’d have figured a way out myself. I didn’t ask for help. I even gave you my jacket as a token of my appreciation. Not to mention you took me around in circles for HOURS before actually showing me the exit!”

“A forest infested with killer sparrows it was. You should be thanking me still for protecting your life, I fell down 3 ditches leading the way.”

“Sparrows aren’t killers! And you keep falling arse over tit because you’re so clumsy you trip over your own leg you dork.”

“Ye wouldn’t say that had thou been a grateful worm. Should have let you been supper for the sparrows!” he said with a scorn.

“BUT I’M NOT A WORM. I’m human, and for God’s sake, get rid of that fancy accent.”

“A human? Oh blimey. You humans behave so much like vermin that I get it all mixed up. My apologies. But fret not, fret not. I shall offer you then a fair deal in lieu of your help. But it is your birthday. You say it for yourself. What booty would illicit a positive response from your end?”

“Booty you say… Hmmm some booty would be nice. You wanna know what I need? Well, a million bucks, a condominium with a jacuzzi, a 1976 Chevy SS, and some bitches dawg. Daddy need some pussy you know wut I’m saying?”

“Ah, I knew not all humans are materialistic. Well said lad. They said men are all about money. But I knew at once that you’re different.”

“You really didn’t get what I said, did you?”

“A cat I can procure before dawn, the dogs too – females if I understand correctly – and as for the rest, can you summarize that in British English?”

As we were talking, my phone started to buzz. “What’s all that” he asked. “Just birthday wishes” I replied.

“Is it midnight already?” he asked and pulled out a silver ring studded with the largest onyx I had ever seen. “This is my grandpa’s lucky ring. Alas, he fell into the well that he was digging and passed away. This was all we could salvage. And this I entrust to you. Happy birthday young master.”

“Some luck it brought” I mumbled, and at the same time hoped that the falling into the well was not credited to the ring. Maybe falling runs in his family. I was amazed at the sight of it though. I couldn’t even guess how much it would cost, but it was a gift so I took it. “Thank you” was all I could say. But seeing what he was capable of parting with, I was now a tad more interested in his deal. Yes I’m greedy. Problem Jon Pedley?

“For someone who doesn’t even remember his name, you remembered my birthday. You just scored some brownie points there fella. And so I’ve decided to take your deal. State your offer.”

“Now we’re talkin business. You help me find and invade the castle of the human wizards and rescue my friend and in return, I’ll lead you to the biggest treasure in your city.”

Yeah sure. For someone scared of “killer” sparrows, how hard would his “human-wizards” be? Prolly some kids from a Harry Potter fan club.

“All right then. If we’re gonna work together, I’ve got to call you something.”

“Call me by my name then.”

“And what exactly is your name?”

“Nutt E. Scroobawl. Tis been yonks since someone called me by name, seventy five and four hundred years to be precise.”

“They called you nutty screwball? I can see why. Guess I’ll just call you Tumbledore, falling down holes and all”

Oh man, what an end to my weekend. Happy birthday to me.

To be continued…


Published by abloggerkid

Just another teenager... with a knack for writing

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: