The Ole Fella

Wrinkles is not what makes folk old

Back in the days when Pete was on earth Pete kept a log, which at times thanks to too much whisky and sugar may not be strictly true. Word has it he left it behind when he left for Planet Hy Man for those of us who want a gentle reminder of just what a queer bunch we humans are…

Heading into February 2008

We finally found the Ol’ fella’s place and it was a mess, an android nightmare, with plenty of things to trip over, even a Planet Hy Man H-Pad wouldn’t help, and dressed as a woman in heels certainly didn’t.

I tripped over more times than a drunk who’d lost his glasses.

I staggered over the mechanical innards of what I think was a car and skidded into a four-legged creature Woody called a cat, who hissed like I was about to decapitate it, something us androids never do——not that the cat listened.

And then, worse than that, I stood in something that had Woody shouting. “Mind the shit!” and DJ sniggering his head off. Scrapping that stuff off my slingbacks was as easy as scrapping scrambled eggs from a pan, a delicacy Bunnie is as famous for as her burnt pans.

DJ laughed so hard that he sent the cat flying across the yard faster than Earth’s ridiculous idea of time travel.

And inside was not any better.

The sitting room was as smelly as the effluent I skidded on, dark and cluttered, very Victorian----apart from Woman’s Hour playing in the background, which according to Bunnie has as much to do with women as a joke strap.

It was the sort of room that had me standing rather than sitting, refusing any beverage and tutting at Mex lounging on the couch (despite its suspect stickiness) tucking into a sugar-infested tablet like it was the elixir of life.

“Perhaps Mam, it’s best to leave well enough alone…” I said, which didn’t help. She tucked into more, and then the Ol’ fella started to read her palm.

What the effluent?

Palm reading is as accurate as using your foot to measure distance in feet, which I was just about to point out to Mex when I spied a library inches from me …so close I could smell the damp paper.

The book titles had my stomach churning like Bunnies tumble dryer…

Legends of the Not-So-Great

The Chronicles of This and That.

Hy Man’s Geographic.

The Greenhouse Guide.

The Spark Plug Odyssey.

Legless’s Memoir

A Shag Too Many” a Legless Novella

The Guard With No Name

The Great Almanac Of Records

I nudged Woody, "This guy knows Legless, his library proves it."

DJ laughed his head off. “That is not a library that is a bookcase, a library is not a library without a librarian.”

"The only good librarian is a dead librarian" I joked back and when no one laughed I told them there had been only one librarian on our planet. An old man in a wheelchair who tried to overthrow the leader more times than Bunnie shouts at Don when he drives.

“Thanks to him books are as out of date as the footmen on our planet, and the chances of reading one is as likely as a footman procreating.”

Well, that got some attention, even the Ole Fella passing around a plate of tablet stopped.

“He coached our esteemed leader,” I said. “Not something to brag about, I mean Beryl's idea of wisdom is…”

“Beryl?” Said the Ole Fella “she is here.”

No one answered.

Then he stopped like he had said something he shouldn't, and with a red face pulled The Spark Plug Odessy from the shelf and began to read…

“Never warm your feet on a woman—they take it personally . . . "

Don and Bunnie walked in looking as flustered as I was the first time I sat in the driver's seat of a car.

"Socks are death in the bedroom" the Ole fella continued.

"You hear that Don,” said Bunnie.

I pulled out The Apparatus of a Woman Volume One which according to the Ol' fella packed a punch.

“The bra, a weapon of illusion, is best opened after a decent warm-up . . .”

And on we went…

"A woman’s idea of coordinating has nothing to do with balance,” read the Ol’fella.

Mex sighed "Any more of tablet."

“A good ride requires more than a decent bike” I read.

"Bit heavy on the innuendos," muttered Bunnie.

I turned a few pages. “All my stories did was make people yawn. I blame it on technology: mobile apps, games—how could a man in a kilt compete?

The Ole fella was silent, in an uncomfortable way, and without thinking I turned to the bookcase and saw another book.

“Sugar Is the Noose Around the Universe” I read with a sharp look at Mex.

“Oh ha fucking ha” snapped Mex.

Neurahack - by Eris Goode

Neurahack is the first installment of Project Juniper, a thrilling YA/NA cyberpunk series written by Eris Goode.

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