Even the sanctuary of the squalor of my lowly hovel was, this once at least, welcome following my altercation with the ruffians who sought to steal not just my wallet but my much treasured long eared owl also. That I made it back safe and sound was thanks only to the club hammer I am never without. Still that’s three more ruffians less and the streets a little safer for it.
Regardless, that is not the tale I shall impart this day…oh no for much more interesting (well I think it is) is the fact that in my absence I had had an unexpected guest arrive. I didn’t realise it at first as I was keen to ensure Charlie – that’s the owl’s name – had had his fill of live field mice from the old aluminium fuel tank I keep in the kitchenette. The thing is if Charlie gets peckish and doesn’t get his feed on time his blood sugar is all over the place and that’s when his mood swings kick in. Not this day though for once he’d scoffed a round dozen rodents the old chap, albeit with one eye open dropped off into a deep sleep upon his golden perch.
It was only then…well only then after a cup of Earl Grey tea that I decided to pop to my bedroom -such as it is – for my slippers. It was there, and much to my initial shock that I came across a raven headed well-formed young lady scantily clad in what I’d say was neo-gothic style lying within my hessian hammock painting her nails and entirely oblivious to the fact I existed it seemed.
“What on earth do you think you’re up to my girl…I mean entering a chap’s digs uninvited is really not on is it?”
It seems she was so engrossed in the task at hand she hadn’t heard me so I repeated myself this time with theatrical gusto. She certainly heard me then for she jumped out of her skin and landed with a dull thump upon the bare floorboards, spilling her emerald nail varnish in the process and leaving her more than a little startled.
Allowing her a few moments to regain her composure I continued my quizzical interrogation. “And you are?”
“Everyone says Perky Butt.”
The thought struck me that this was most apt for she did indeed have the perkiest of said butts!
“To be named thus is very unusual indeed.”
“I suppose so yet when I left the real world of dreams I didn’t have a name. It was only when I took to the streets and was passing the Town Hall where the builders up high upon the scaffolding there doing some sort of repairs or other that one of them for some inexplicable reason wolf whistled and shouted, ‘Perky Butt’ at me that I thought that’ll do for a handle.”
“Tell me now, how did you gain access? I see no signs of forced entry.”
“Oh that…well I walked through the wall…I’m good at that! It does tire me out a tad hence I took to your hammock!”
“That you walk through solid objects can only mean you herald from the Realm of the Dark Ages where nothing is as it seems as do I.”
“I do indeed Mr Merlin…that is why I am here. I’ve run away if the truth be told…the place is so very boring what with the propensity for noshing only upon the foul gruel the servants serve up; fending off supposedly chivalrous knights…I mean only a few evenings back Galahad pitched up at my place armed with a bottle of mead and a goats bladder under the assumption I’d be a push over and that he’d get his leg across just like that – I unfriended him on Facebook of course – and then there’s the getting from A to B on horseback…fairly plays havoc with my nether regions that does…oh I could wax lyrical for hours about how very, very tedious it is there. I’m looking for a bit of fun…I mean I see you have a flushing toilet and your own pet owl…that Mr Merlin is so impressive.”
“So you risk travelling through the ages to join me here just to see if the grass is greener on the other side.”
“That’s the strength of it. Let me stay Mr Merlin, let me stay…pity please…I’ll do anything.”
“Just how old are you Perky Butt?”
“I’ll be 180 next birthday.”
“Well I am 1047 and counting. I’m old enough to be your great, great, great…well loads of greats grandfather young lady.”
“Oh but Mr Merlin you’re a living legend where I come from…all I hear is ‘Do you remember when Mr Merlin played lead guitar and sung the vocals for the Round Tables or that time at the Camelot Festival when nearly all the girls in the audience threw their knickers at Mr Merlin’…so that’s all I’m here for really; a bit of life before I get old and haggard. What are knickers by the way?”
“I suspect not everything you’ve heard about me is entirely true, what with the passage of time and stories being told and retold history becomes distorted and legends are born. And, oh yes ‘knickers’ are a good example…you see back then knickers were not invented…gals didn’t wear them so they couldn’t have been thrown my way. For the record they are a ladies undergarment if you must know…and don’t tell me you’re not wearing any under that perilously short skirt you’ll catch you death of cold if you’re not careful.”
“Whatever…don’t care…it’s just can I stay with you Mr Merlin?”
“No I’m afraid you cannot. I’m a solitary chap at heart.”
“Please don’t send me away…not back to the Realm of the Dark Ages where nothing is as it seems…anywhere but there.”
“You’ve just given me an idea young Perky Butt…yes I think I’ve got it. You’ll have never heard of him but I am good mates with a time traveller by the name of Dr That One. Now the good doctor has a penchant for pretty young gal companions and I am aware that presently he is seeking a new girl chum…I think you might fit the bill you know. I’ll give him a call on my mobile and test the water for you. How does that sound to you?”
“Brilliant. Bet he’s on Twitter and everything?”
“Well that’s you sorted Perky Butt he’s on his way even as I speak…I think we’ve just got time to pop down town to buy you some knickers…We can’t have a girl from the Dark Ages letting the side down can we!”
“What are knickers again?”
TO BE CONTINUED……..