The Road to Meringue (Part Three)

Sometimes, days are just plain sailing. Up early(ish), breakfasted, dressed, and out and on with the rest of the day, and in what seems like a flash the day is coming to an end once again.

Most days, it could be said, are generally like that.

Some days, however, are so far removed from the truth, they are, well, unbelievable. I’ve already described my meeting with Walpole E. Epstein, and the utter devastation he caused to my bathroom and landing; that in itself was unbelievable, but there’s more!

I’d decided that, as things weren’t going as they usually did, to drive a different way that morning. I arrived at a fork in the road, and a broken signpost was telling me that a strange place by the name of Meringue was off to the right. The pointer to the left had been long broken off, so I had no clue where that road led to, and didn’t want to check right at that moment.

I looked down at my bedraggled self as I walked back to the car, and thought I needed to sort myself out. I couldn’t be seen in public looking as though I’d been dragged through a hedge backwards. And nobody was going to believe that I had fought off the power of a black hole, only to be covered in some of the contents as it began to repel rather than attract. No. I’ll keep that one to myself, I think!

I drove back to the Mansion, and walked up the stairs.

For some reason, I’d forgotten what had happened less than twenty minutes ago. The stairway was dripping. All kinds of everything were strewn all over the landing and in the bathroom. There was no way I was going to get cleaned up in there.

Luckily, living in a Mansion, I have a spare bathroom. It’s over on the East Wing, an area that I don’t tend to go in very often, as it overlooks the summer meadows in the Grinds outside – and that triggers my Hay Fever. But when needs must, I can live with a few sniffles.

So, I had to remember my way to the spare bathroom. Across the landing, down the stairs, through the door at the bottom of the stairs, across the hallway, through the double doors, along the corridor, up the step, along the west corridor and around, out of the window, along the balcony, down the ladder, across the patio, through the French window, across the room, through the door, along the corridor, up the stairs, up the stairs, up the stairs (!), through the window, across the balcony, through the window, across the spare bedroom, and into the en suite. Luckily, it’s always well stocked, because I always forget something.

An hour later, I was ready. Fresh, dressed and impressed as I saw myself in the Flattering Mirror – it’s one of those smoke-effect mirrors that show everything in a good light. Whether I’d look so good after my trek back to the front door remained to be seen, I remember thinking, but I’m sure things were fine.

In fact, I know they were.

I’d changed my plans for the day. I was going to explore Meringue, and I now looked the part!

I drove back to the fork in the road, and swallowed deeply. I was exploring something new. I set off along this road to the right. It was a long, thin, winding, narrow country lane. So winding in fact, the top speed I could manage was two miles an hour… and that felt too fast! I’m not saying I speed or anything, but feeling that two miles an hour was too fast is really a little extreme. Well, such is life in an altered reality, I suppose.

Eventually, I reached the end of the lane. A wide, but quiet, road crossed it, and a green road sign on the other side of the road pointed to the right, and indicated that Meringue was one mile in that direction.

I was about to set off when something on the sign caught my eye. Just five words that caused me to do a double-take, slam on the brakes, and jump out of the car. I ran over to the sign, staring in disbelief.

The five words were “The Ceremonial Shire of Somerset”.

Somerset?

Somerset!

I was in Cheshire a narrow lane ago, and I’m now close to Somerset?

Now… don’t get me wrong, my geography isn’t perfect. I’m good, but not brilliant. I know that Cheshire is a Northern County in England, and Somerset is a Southern one. The two have never, ever bordered each other since the dawn of time.

That morning, however, things had changed.

And this little Somerset town was the first in a chain of not so subtle differences I was about to discover…

The A-Z of Everything… near enough!

I’m starting to think that I may, perhaps, be extending the incorrect impression of myself.

My ‘about’ page goes into great detail about who I am, as do quite a lot of the posts I write. The title of my blog is currently Me! Me! Me me me!, which would tend to give a slight clue as to what the blog is actually about.

Yes, I am the centre of the Universe, but only my Universe. My Universe changes depending on the day of the week, which room I’m standing in, and which way the wind is blowing.

When I started blogging, almost three hundred years ago, I had the foresight to have the web address to be somewhat different to the blog title itself.

I’d never blogged before, well, professionalyish, and thought ‘Well, here goes nothing’, and that’s why I use Well Here Goes in the web address. Or Url.

‘Or Url’, funnily enough, is Neanderthal language meaning ‘come here’. Well, it actually means ‘come eat’ but if you are offering somebody something to eat, they have to come over to you anyway (however, if you left food for them and walked away, the phrase would then be ‘eat there’ which doesn’t actually fit, or make any sense with this post.)

So. That’s the address sorted.

The current name for my blog, all the ‘mes’, isn’t intended to be in any way egotistical at all. I’m far better than that. No, it’s a play on all of the various aspects that I have, that crop up from time to time. My Inner Zombie, for instance gets a mention usually in that type of post.

That particular ‘me’ is grumpy and groany, and fills a hole every now and then. Usually with a loose body part, but I’ll not go into that for now.

In the early days, the blog was a place for my thoughts to wander; a place for me to record wherever my mind went, and reminisce about days gone by, or dreams, hopes and aspirations. I’ve wandered slightly further since the early days. OK, I’ve gone that far off the beaten track, I’m lost.

Not lost in a bad way, but lost from the path I first set out on.

My superhero me is quite prominent on this blog, my vampire me less so, but he crops up every now and then. My traveller me (who hasn’t actually been mentioned yet in any post) is presently by far the most prominent aspect I have, although I don’t really travel that far at all. But the writer in me is always screaming loudly in the background. ‘Look at that bowl of custard!’ he will shout, as an example, and ‘think of a rhyme for fellow!’

We all know he was meaning mellow, or yellow, but he could equally have been meaning hello, particularly if you are, as I am, fond of a bowl of custard every now and then. The mouth waters, and you whisper dreamily ‘Hello!’… well I do anyway, when a bowl of custard is in my immediate vinicity. My spelling tends to go awry when custard is around too. Or even mentioned.

Oh. I seem to have left things a little late to get started on my A-Z, so that will have to wait for another post. Besides, every letter of the alphabet has been used in this post anyway, so that’ll cover it.

Every letter except one, that is.

So, to wrap things up… this blog is about me, my thoughts, my ramblings, my world, and everything else really. It’s meant to be a fun, feel good place for escape, a surreal reality stop off point, if you like. I hope I get that message across, otherwise I’ll need to have words with someone. One of the mes, but I haven’t decided which one yet…

Oh, and one more thing… thanks for reading!

Embrace

Arms wrapped tightly around me, the embrace was comforting; welcome. It’s been a while since I’ve been this close to anyone.

I wanted the moment to last just a little longer… actually, forever!

I wrapped my arms around a little tighter as well, I was holding on for all my life.

My heart was beating faster; my breathing getting a little heavier.

We started to sway together, as though we were dancing to some silent melody. Gently swaying back and forth. Nice memories that should have been spoiled by teeth being plunged into my neck, but those pleasing memories remain.

Remember that time I went to the future?

It’s catch-up time again, so a quick reminder of a post from last September (figuratively speaking) to fill a space where otherwise nothing would be. Not that there would be anything in the space if nothing was here, but in this vast (and now altered) Universe, there’s always something…

I woke up this morning, and looked out of my window. I never realised that Aqua Mansion was hundreds of stories high. Neither have I realised that I live on the coast, but apparently I do. Or I did this morning.

Everything was different. The sky was a shade of blue so vibrant, it wasn’t Sky Blue at all… it was more of a Postcard Blue – you know, where anything that is blue on a postcard is exactly the same shade of blue regardless of what it is.

My bedroom was so much larger than it was when I went to bed last night. I got myself out of bed, and was about to step onto the floor when a white, round, metal disc hovered and attached itself to my foot. Another one then appeared and did the same to my right foot. Before I knew it, I was being taken, by my feet – well, by these disc things – to the bathroom. I think they were to save me from walking, but not having the luxury of being upright, I was dragged to the bathroom, with my head banging on the floor every second or so. That pounding feeling is still with me. Ooh me head…

After doing the bathroom things – apart from switching the light on, running a bath, brushing my teeth and taming my seriously out of control hair, which were all automated – I went to get dressed. Luckily by now, I’d managed to regain my super standing upright ability, as the discs attached themselves again, and took me through a couple of sliding doors (that I had never seen in my life) and into my glide-in wardrobe.

Metal arms shot out at me from all angles, thrusting shirts and trousers, jeans and shoes, t-shirts, cardigans, ruffs (ruffs!), rings, necklaces, socks and boxers, and a variety of other garments out to me, before snatching them back to present me with another choice. Who’d have thought the decisions behind choosing what to wear would be fraught with so many choices – and the dangers of possibly losing an eye or two.

I survived getting dressed, and the discs took me across the landing, passed the old faithful clock that is always in another time zone, and into the breakfast room.

“Good Morning, Tom” boomed an automated voice from out of nowhere. Only it wasn’t from nowhere. It was from the box of cornflakes. An automated, speaking, box of cornflakes! It was also in mid flow, pouring a large mound into a large bowl. Once finished, a clanking sound accompanied a tube that extended from the fridge, and milk poured over the cornflakes. As it finished, a siren wailed, and another voice, a computer sounding voice this time, said “Fresh milk order completed.” I must have used the last of the milk.

I was about to reach for the bowl of cornflakes when another disc appeared, a red one this time, and slipped itself beneath the bowl. It then lifted the bowl and hovered passed me, out of the breakfast room and across the landing, and down to the living room. I didn’t have time to catch it as it went by, but a second later my discs carried me to the same room. It’s a very eerie feeling walking without doing the walking.

The discs lowered me onto my favourite chair – at least something is still the same! – and the red disc brought me my cornflakes. The TV automatically came on, although the TV was now on the wall opposite me. In fact, the whole wall was the TV, which took me back a bit. The Digital On-screen Graphic told me I was watching BBC88. They were repeating Cash in the Attic.

I finished my cornflakes, and the split second after my spoon was in the bowl the red disc came and snatched it away from me. I last saw it flying out of the door in the direction of the kitchen.

Breakfast done, and I had to watch the end of the programme. I’d missed the beginning, but these daytime shows sometimes have a knack of keeping you hooked. After the show had finished – the woman had raised £305.00 from some old niknaks she bought back in 2874 and had never used them, by the way – one of those dreadful shows started where people air their dirty laundry in public and argue about it. I watched that show too, and then decided I had to work out where exactly I was.

I was in Aqua Mansion, I know that much. Aqua Mansion sometime after 2874 to boot. That explains the disc things, the automated toilet flushing facilities, and the speaking cornflakes. I’m surprised my favourite chair had survived, and Cash in the Attic for that matter, perhaps even more surprised than I should have been for those, considering I had woken up some eight-hundred and some years in the future.

As my head was still throbbing from being carted across the bedroom floor at a rate of fifty thuds a second (or so it seemed), I decided to have another quick nap before I went out for the day. Although where I was going to go, and how I would actually get there was beyond me, considering the mansion was now surrounded by water as the tide had come in. I hovered back to the bedroom, and lay back down onto my bed, and dozed off.

I woke up again in 2011. I had to walk to the bathroom.

And I hadn’t even checked to see if Betelgeuse was still there after 2874. Some mornings… you just don’t think, do you?

The Room

Wind howled through the broken window, caused by the branch of the large oak during the great storm.

I was surrounded by an eerie darkness; the only light coming into the room was from the candlelight in the corridor outside the partly open door.

Trying to keep as quiet as I could, I waited. I heard footsteps in the hallway coming closer to the room.

I held my breath.

The door swiftly opened and bright torchlight shone into the room, straight through me. I waited for them to leave again before I rattled my chains.

That always makes them scream!

Legendary Circles

The Gods and Goddesses gathered in the Great Hall on Mount Olympus, for their daily view on the affairs of the mortals who live on the Earth beneath them. They always enjoyed looking down on the ordinary folk, in case someone stood out with a special ability.

One day they noticed Gerald. Nothing to write home about looks wise, slightly podgy in fact, with a receding hairline, but he had a special ability. He was a writer, writing a tale about a group of Gods and Goddesses who were so caught up in the affairs of others, they’d forgotten themselves.

The Road to Meringue (Part Two)

Sometimes, days are just plain sailing. Up early(ish), breakfasted, dressed, and out and on with the rest of the day, and in what seems like a flash the day is coming to an end once again.

Most days, it could be said, are generally like that.

Some days, however, are so far removed from the truth, they are, well, unbelievable.

The other morning fits into this category, I would say.

Imagine me, about to set off for my day at large, and within a matter of minutes finding myself hanging on to a door frame just outside of my bathroom, with a complete stranger by the name of Walpole E. Epstein having just opened a black hole.

Imagine the horror of watching one’s toothbrush sucked unceremoniously into a blackened ravine.

Think of the horror as the brand new toilet brush (complete with marble-effect holder) swirled around the room, orbiting the chasm before plunging into the absorbing darkness.

Recoil in terror, as a pair of worn underwear fly passed, just out of reach, only to be snagged on a complete stranger’s shoulder for a second or two, before freeing themselves and lunging into the jaws of a great Universal hole.

Think carefully about the effects such events have on one’s hair; one’s decorum.

“Walpole, what did you do that for?” I shouted, not as politely.

“I dint!” Walpole E. Epstein was telling the truth, in the midst of what could be described as maniacal laughter. I could sense that through his rich American accent, and hardly infectious sniggers, he was being honest. In fact, I couldn’t doubt him now.

The forces coming from the hole were immense. I was gripping on to my door frame for all my life. I no longer cared about my hair, and that is saying something.

In a cruel twist of fate, a tub of Twilight Stealth hair gel ricocheted off my forehead and was lost forever.

“This… this wasn’t meant to happen…” Walpole shouted. The door he was hanging onto was becoming loose at the hinges. “The computer was meant to open the gateway from my side, not this one…”

I don’t know what Walpole said next, as the ornamental shield that I’d had on the wall on the landing clanked its way past us, as it bounced off the walls, floor and ceiling, and followed my other belongings into the gaping hole.

The air being dragged into the black hole was reminiscent of being outside on a very windy day. Never has anything like that been experienced on the landing before; even when all of the windows were open.

Suddenly, the wind stopped.

Walpole and I fell to the floor like discarded rag dolls. I got to my feet, when suddenly I felt a rush of wind again… this time coming from out of the hole, rather than rushing toward it.

Walpole shouted “Get into that room!” and he somehow managed to shove me into the walk-in cabinet beside the bathroom, slamming the door behind me. Outside, it sounded like a storm was taking place. I heard thunder, saw lightning through the edges of the door, and the wind did not let up in the slightest. I could hear Walpole shouting. And then I heard a roar.

Walpole’s computer was still squawking loudly, and then it started to beep. Beep-beep-beeep… beep-beep-beeep… beep-beep-beeep… and then it stopped.

I could hear nothing outside.

No wind, thunder, or anything.

I shouted out to Walpole, but heard nothing back. There was no response.

Cautiously, I opened the cabinet door, and walked out onto the landing. It was a mess. Seaweed, branches, combs, underwear, tubs of inferior hair gel, quality TV sets, remote controls, gloves… everything was scattered everywhere. The floor was sodden, as though a month’s worth of rain had fallen on the landing; and the bathroom… Well, the bathroom… needs a ‘little’ bit of work. Luckily the black hole was no longer there but neither were the brand new scales that I had bought the other week. Towels were everywhere; dripping.

Suddenly another gust of wind blew a piece of card into my hand, distracting me from the bathroom carnage.

I looked down, and saw Walpole’s business card.

I then realised that Walpole was gone.

I picked up the card, and read beneath the initials ‘The American Institute for Metaphysical Studies’, and remembered Ayfumuss. I guessed that Walpole was some kind of research scientist, and had somehow got caught up within one of his experiments.

I started to wonder if Walpole had managed to get himself out of the realm he’d found himself in, or had got himself into further trouble. He’d left me with a bit of a clean-up job, though!

I had one more look around the landing, and saw a slip of paper sticking out from gap between the bathroom door and the frame – luckily it hadn’t come off its hinges! One less task!

The slip of paper was a computer print-out; it reminded me of the old dot matrix till receipts that we used to get from shops of yesteryear. My initial thoughts were that was what the funny beeping was before the silence, the slip being printed from somewhere. Printed on the slip was a message:

“May never see you again. Thanks for your help. Sorry about the mess. Walpole E. Epstein”

So, wherever Walpole has gone to, hopefully he’s getting closer to home – if he’s not there already.

I had to leave the clean up work until later; I was running late and had to go. I’d calmed my hair down, and luckily my clothes weren’t that badly splattered, so I thought I’d get away with it, and finally set off for my day.

At the end of the drive, I usually turn left, but thought, as it had been such an odd morning, I would turn right for a change.

I followed the road until it came to a fork in the road. One narrow path went off to the left, another to the right. On the grass verge was a sign. A really old wooden sign, which, in all honesty, shouldn’t have been there. The pointer to the left was completely broken off, and the one to the right was pointing to a place I couldn’t make out from the car.

I parked up, and walked over to the sign. It read:

“Meringue, 1 Mile”.

As I have never lived near a place called Meringue, nor have I ever heard of such a place, I realised in that instant something had changed. Reality had been altered.

I realised that Walpole E. Epstein had changed the world…