Considerably disorientated. I'm now in a new job and living in a new home in a strange northern town where it rains like the days before The Great Flood. Absent from the blogosphere for a two weeks (building an ark in my garden). I've been missed, right? My soul screams for validation, my self-worth has dropped lower than a rudeboy's crotch. Actually that's a lie, the break was rather nice. But Mr Condescending has been pestering me daily, can't live without my posts apparently. I told him to stop badgering me but he persisted.
To make matters worse Rubbish rang me up last night and screamed down the phone, said he'd turdbomb my doorstep if I didn't get my act together. Kids huh?! Told him I'd retaliate by putting laxative in his cider, but I really can't be bothered to go to Wales so...
The old man sat on the top desk of the bus. He was staring straight ahead, a pair of thick-lensed black-rimmed glasses clung to his face. For the record I don't condone the stealing of old men's glasses. Seriously, why go through all that effort when they are unlikely to fetch you anything on eBay? Besides, old men cause enough trouble in the world when they can see clearly. The last thing any of us need is millions of pensioners stumbling around without their glasses. The world would descend rapidly into bedlam. Pensioners would be seen dragging squirrels about on leads, stuffing cats into letterboxes and waiting outside the pub on Thursday mornings while moaning that the "post office" isn't open. Come to think about it, stuffing some cats into Rubbish's letter box would be pretty damn funny. Or putting a squirrel in his cider.
Take the following situation. In our new street rubbish collection takes place on a Friday. During the week our bins stay in the garden to the rear of the house. The garden is surrounded by a high two-metre fence and accessible either from our back door or from the garden gate, which is also two-metres high and double-locked from the inside. One of the locks is half-way down the gate, i.e. only reachable if you are one of those astronomically tall men from China that occasionally make the news and use their long arms to reach down the throats of dolphins. Last Friday morning my wife asked me to take the bins out. I went into the garden and to my surprise the bins were not there. I went round to the front and there they were, sitting smugly on the pavement, chatting amongst themselves no doubt. The only plausible explanation is that at the crack of dawn an elderly neighbour had broken in and dragged them out front. Now there are two possibilities here. Either this (uncharacteristically athletic) pensioner vaulted the two-metre fence or they managed to unlock the garden gate using a fishhook on a piece of string. Can you imagine the mayhem if this pensioner was without their glasses? I'd probably be woken at 5am as I am dragged outside with a fishhook through my nose. (This Friday I'm going to get up crazily early and find out how they get in).
But anyway... Danny pressed the buzzer, got up from his seat and started to walk up the aisle. It was cold and wet outside, the bus was packed. He moved slowly, his steps small and determined, carefully keeping his balance as the bus lurched about in a deliberate attempt to send him into the lap of an unsuspecting granny. With each step he grasped the handrails on back of the seats each side of him, he would not be defeated and no grannies would be squashed. Nothing could have prepared him for what happened next. The middle finger of his right hand hooked under the bridge of an old man's glasses. In a single movement he gracefully lifted the glasses off the old man's face and launched them into the air. They sailed over the next five seats, all of which were occupied, their path a beautiful parabolic spectacle (haha, two weeks absent and my wit is still as sharp as a blunt razor). They cleared the passengers and clattered down the stairwell. The speed and trajectory - unimaginably perfect in every way - would have made the Roman army's lead trebuchet operative sick with jealousy. The old man whipped his hands up to his eyes. "Someone's stolen my glasses," he howled. One moment he had been quietly looking forward to Coronation Street, the next moment his glasses had been whipped from his face. Funniest moment of his life, Danny tells me. I may have to try this next time I'm on a bus. With a bit of luck I could make a few quid on eBay.
The "sequel" to Perdido Street Station, one of my absolute favourites, and I'm enjoying it just as much, if not more so.
The worlds and races Mieville creates are simply superb. If you've not read this series and you like "weird fiction" then please crack on and get reading.
Comments
Your image of the elderly running amok had me grinning. I really like your new blog layout by the way.
You are definitely on my top five favorite bloggers' list.
ha ha ! your title made me laugh on a pretty grisly Monday so thank you
Blogger ate my first comment.
I felt downtrodden that squashed grannies were not going to be part of the plot but you ended it so well. Poor old man!
Welcome back. Hope you brought your galoshes to your new town.
And you thought the bus wouldn't provide you with the kind of quality material the train did.
So, how's the ark coming along? Are you collecting pairs? If so, I have a couple of teenagers I'd be more than happy to donate. We wouldn't want the post-flood world to be deprived of teenagers.
Old people are crazy mean. They deserve panic attacks on public transit.
Welcome back! Your wit as sharp as a blunt razor was definitely missed. ;)
I'll be curious to see if you do stake out your mysterious garden gnome on Friday... ;)
That whole scenario of the bus and the poor old man's glasses was brilliantly written - I could envision it perfectly and with great clarity! :)
Next year when we do the whole dinosaur excursion with cupcakes, I'll be sure to send you an engraved invitation - so long as you promise not to put laxatives or squirrels in my cider. ;)
Well, I for one am glad to see you back. since I shun humanity, I need you to remind me why.
Also, even though you don't show up on my follower's list you have been a fairly steady commenter lately and I missed that.
You could start a crime wave on buses and trains, flinging old men's spectacles around the coaches.
I'm glad your back. Phantom animated garbage bins and all.
I've always thought of the truck that picks up the bins and upends them into its maw as a kind of rolling monster.
glad you're back - and in top form, no less.
as an old man myself, I must say that I totally loathe Danny.
... what the heck is a rudeboy? LOL and why do they have low crotches? (I assume that means low hanging trousers - no?)
Impressive first post back. And now that I'm stuck taking buses myself I think I'll have to keep an eye out (no pun intended) for bespectacled old men.
I thought I'd actually just made 'bespectacled' up because it couldn't be a real word and now that I've confirmed it is I'm a little disappointed.
Ha! I can see the look of shock and terror on the old man's face now. Poor fellow, such sweet hilarious delight. Although, I do hope he found his glasses.
Of course it was an elderly neighbor! Who knows what kind of confusion led them to your garden gate, but you know how those elders get. They're very determined once out on task. Why once I witnessed an elder woman picking up her morning paper. One glance into the sky, set her mind a twirling. Her dizzy spell landing her 3 yards down. Every paper collected on her way back home. As if she forgot she already had a paper in her hand. I can only imagine her surprise as she sat down with her coffee to find 4 papers to be read. Now that's a lot of reading.
Just what do you plan on doing once you find out who is taking your trash to the curb?
Every one of you whipper-snappers are going to be old farts some day... maybe... if you're lucky, and somebody's going to to have fun at your expense and then you'll see... then you'll see... ahhh, ohhh, shit, forgot what I was going to say.
Yoru spell checker isn't working or yoru glasses have been stolen.
Turdbombs heading in yoru direction (laughs manically meh meh ha ha ha ha ha).
Of course you were missed. I look forward to browsing over your blog with my monday morning coffee (or afternoon as the case may be :P). Always a great read!
It's a crime wave against seniors !!
So glad you're back and unhinged-er-unpacked!
Now I must go...the damn squirrel is splashing cider all over my keyboard.
well, they could've been Archibald Whitwicky's glasses! ;)
I've missed you. And I felt really bad for that old dude. But I'll admit I also laughed.
Haha, the glasses thing is hilarious! That poor old man must've been totally gobsmacked.
Also, those bin men have POWERS. Or a big, magic, door opening tool. Everyone wants a magic tool!
That came out all wrong.
(It is true, Vegetable Assasin, that I also would like a magic tool.)
What an odd mystery with your trash bins. I can't get anyone to take my trash out without a fight and they live here!
Your friend, Danny's tale is a royal hoot! My students are wondering what is wrong with me... cackling away at my library desk for no obvious reason.
Here is an ort for your ego... You were very missed. I'm thrilled that you are back.
Of course you've been missed!
I don't think I could be bothered to wake up EXTRA early to see who is putting out the bins. I'd just be grateful I didn't have to do it myself.
I think I'll take a public bus, just once, and see if it's nearly as interesting as one of your trips. Somehow, I doubt it. I'll bet it's an English thing.
Oh my! How hilarious for us and sad for the old man. Speaking of hilarious, "turdbomb" made me giggle. Thank you!
absolutely hilarious. welcome back. I LOVE the visual of the old man's glasses flying through the air. if you did that, I would buy them.
LOL You'd probably take their eyes out instead!
Hah, a spectacle indeed...
Good thing the bus didn't lurch worse or he might have removed someone's contact lenses by accident.
Welcome back!
Hows the new house/job combo working out for you?
You're back! Nearly emailed you late last week to ask how the move went and when you'd be posting, but it seemed super stalkery so I didn't.
You have ketchup (or catsup) over there? Rubbish was asking.
parabolic spectacle. heh.
I was wondering if anyone was going to pick on you about the "yoru" thing. Rubbish did.
Are we surprised? Nope. We'd have been disappointed if he hadn't, despite his completely incomprehensible post today.
A squirrel in the cider is okay as long as its been properly baked.
Funny post...I'll remember to tape my glasses down when i get to that point in life.
I can't say I've missed you because this is my first time here. I can say that you are a terrific and unique writer and this story made me smile. I can say that I am thrilled to have found you in this bloggy ether and that I will be back to read more. Thanks for reading my interview with Debra and for commenting on my blog.
Danny sure does dream big, huh? Glad to see you back around these parts. :)
Good to know.
Missed you!
Fabulous.
I'd have given anything to see that.
Almost.
I should learn not to put myself out there like that.
You said "rubbish!" I loooooooooove you! (In a nonstalkersih sort of way!) : )
ANYTHING can be sold on ebay. Trust me.
Bwahaha. You my friend have indeed been missed.
Always good to see the wanderer returning. Just make sure you don't drip on the floor, alright?
All I can picture here is Mr. Magoo!
You're better than You-Tube! ;)
Just popped over from Jimmy B's place to say hi.
Hi! Grand blog.
Squirrels in cider, reaching down dolphin's throats, and stealing old men's glasses, haha, gotta love ya Mo!
Depending on how far North you are, the bins probably floated out on the midnight rains.
Now I have read this, I may start taking the precaution of blutaking my spectacles to my nose when I drive our bus.
You were missed! Awesome comeback.
What's yoru cider? Is this some new Welsh drink?
Wait....do I know you?
Hah,I cleverly solved this mystery!
"The old man sat on the top desk of the bus."
It must be the old man who grabs your bins, he just stands on top of the desk that he sits on during the bus trip!
I did hear about a very nice tea room in your new town, I wonder if the old man enjoys high tea perched on his desk as well? Maybe with a splash of tennyson's suggested yoru cider?
jolly good story
welcome back! we missed you.
I need more info to help me process the crux of this tale. What number was the bus? Did the driver wear a tie? What shoes did you wear? Did the oul fella have shoes on at the time?
What sort of cat was stuffed thru the various letterboxes, the cider.. was it strong, weak, medium?
my 82 year old dad refuses to wear glasses. My mother lived with a pensioner with no glasses for years and it can make you nuts
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