I stared at the sinister looking contrivance before me with some disgust. It resembled a phone box with copper wiring sprouting from it's top like a ginger Medusa.
I was in my good friend Dobson Dobberson's workshop. He was a good fellow Dobson, despite having a face like a masturbating turtle. He stood beside the copper contraption beaming with pride.
So, Dobson. What is this... Thing?
Dobson scampered around the contrivance, adjusting the odd wire with exaggerated care.
Well old chap. Have you heard of Quantum mechanics?
I sighed like a pig that had been stabbed.
No, do tell. What is a Cuntum Mechanic? Sounds like the fellow that tried to tell me I had run someone over when I took old Bessie in for a once over.
Kwoh-N-TUM mechanics my friend. Not the, ahem, word you said. It is the science of the very small. Beyond microscopic in fact.
I dragged my eyes off the clockwork monstrosity and arched an eyebrow at Dobson.
Perhaps you can get the wife to help you then eh. She should be invaluable!
I laughed at my exceedingly good joke.
Dobson's face dropped.
Hmm, very funny Boomy. Well, I won't bore you with the details; suffice to say that at the quantum level, our physical laws do not hold the same sway. It got me to thinking... What if I could generate a quantum field over something quite large and control the frequency that it vibrated at?
I took out my pipe and tried not to stare at the contrivance. Something about the shape of it was hurting my eyes.
Sounds like a load of old shit to me but please. Do carry on.
Dobson puffed out his chest like a parrot doing the toilet.
Well, I figured out a way of doing so. It involves a lot of copper wiring and of course electricity but I did it. I can now unveil my amazing creation...
He waved a hand toward the phone box shaped contrivance and boomed theatrically...
The Time Machine!
I dubiously blew out a puff of sweet baccy smoke.
A time machine. As in, a machine to travel through time?
Dobson grinned like an Irishman who had just wiped his arse.
Yes old chap. A machine that will allow the occupant to travel through time itself. Can you imagine? Being able to go travel through the ages. To see things no man alive has ever seen!! I know Boomy that you are a man of distinction. A Gentleman of Gentlemen and I thought, who else, who else deserves the right, nay, the honour of being the first man to travel through time itself!
I looked at him as if he were an otter chewing my shoe.
You want me to go in your big copper box of electricity? Fuck off. Try it with a poor person first.
Dobson's face fell.
But, it's such an honour Boomy?
I said fuck off.
But where would I find a person with the sheer nerve and fortitude to volunteer for such a thing?
Dobson whined.
Oh bloody hang on.
I marched to the door of his workshop and flung it open.
Free Pies!
I yelled.
A peasant scampered in. A grubby looking weevil with a face like cheap bacon. I slammed the door shut. The weevil looked around nervously.
Did someone say free pies Milord?
He squeaked hopefully.
Oh yes my friend!
I clonked him on the head with my cane and dragged him over to the contrivance. Dobson had wound up a large spinney on the side and the resultant static from the copper wiring was making my hair stand on end. Dobson held open a small door. I levered the weevil in and whacked him a couple of times with my cane just to be sure he wouldn't try anything.
Dobson slammed the door shut and grinned at me triumphantly. He pushed several buttons and motioned me to step back.
I have set the machine to go 800,000 years into the future! It will return in ten minutes!
This last he yelled over the increasing roar emanating from the machine.
There was a pop and the machine vanished.
Got any brandy whilst we wait?
Dobson fetched a bottle and we settled down in a couple of chairs.
Several brandies later in what seemed like no time at all, a mighty groaning, wheezing noise filled the air and the copper contrivance materialised into existence before us.
The door popped open.
Dobson put down his glass and stood, peering at the contrivance. Something moved within.
Pie man?
He queried.
There was a frightful roar and a bloody something was flung out of the box. It thumped down nearby with a wet smack. I looked at it over my brandy glass. Hmm, it looked like weevil. He was all ripped up and quite dead. Time travelling didn't suit him by the looks of it.
Dobson let out a high pitched squeal of terror. I looked up to see what was bothering him. Something large was lumbering out of the Time Machine. It looked like a great big hairy white ape. It pulled itself upright and roared from a mouth bristling with large bloodstained fangs.
Dear God!
Dobson slumped to the ground in a faint borne of terror. The thing whipped its head from left to right. Its maddened gaze fixed on me. It raised its arms high and pounded its chest and roared again. Then it charged.
I puffed out an exasperated cloud of smoke from my pipe and put it down on the ashtray. The thing lowered its head as it thumped toward me. Muscles rippling under its hairy white hide, saliva flying from its bloodied mouth.
The beast screeched to a halt before me and threw its hands high for a killing strike and roared in fury.
I stood and walloped it with my cane right on the nose.
That will be quite enough of that you damn dirty ape.
It staggered back and howled with rage and disbelief.
I gave it a quick jab in the nethers then thwacked its nose again. It squealed and fell to the floor clutching it's ladybreakers.
Well this is a stroke of luck!
I exclaimed.
I walked around the specimen. It was indeed some kind of large white ape. Not too large though. I daresay I could get a tailor to fit a jacket around it.
I grabbed its chin and looked at it. It mewled like a kitten and tried to turn away.
No you don't you dirty big bastard. First things first. We will have to get you washed and shave this Granny's vagina of a face. I have been looking for an assistant since I had to, ahem. Let the last one go. I think you will do nicely!
Dobson stirred and rose shakily to his feet.
For the love of god, what is that thing? What happened to Weevil?
Never mind Dobson, I will be taking this big lump off your hands. It's my new manservant. I shall call him Morris. Yes, a fine name.
I tugged at one of its ears.
Right you, up you bastarding get.
It made a forlorn hooting noise and got up. I smiled at Dobson.
Right Dobbers old fellow. I must be off. I have an ape to shave and that's not a euphemism!
I headed off with my new manservant in tow.
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After a visit to the tailors and some rudimentary word teaching, my new man was ready to start his duties. After such a successful day I decided to root around in the spam locker and see what had been gotten this week.
The chats are still feeble. There are plenty of spam comments though, so what do we have?
SpamFarmer1: Thanks for sharing am also struggling with weight loss.
UncleBoom: Eat less. You will be laughing.
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SpamFarmer2: In a very beautiful way, you have highlighted some of the many things we have in common with you today
UncleBoom: There was a fellow I once knew, Let us call him Jacob. He was a fine man, but he had a weakness for the ladies and the drink in no particular order. One day he fell and bashed his head on a rock and died. He was only 12 and I sometimes still think of him even now, sitting there in his chair whisky in one hand, lady in the other.
Sometimes I wish I was Jacob, other's I wish I was the rock.
Oh they are a miserable lot this week, perhaps they are relaxing due to the festive break? Well, feel free to contact me and remember...
