The Daily Dormouse. (aka Bike) Part 1409 by Angharad Copyright © 2011 Angharad All Rights Reserved.

“You seem rather pensive, tonight,” Simon remarked. I was seated at the kitchen table with a cold cup of tea by the side of me and about which I’d completely forgotten.

I looked at the scum forming on the top of the tea, “Put the kettle on will you, darling?”

I heard him flick the switch and a moment later the water was roaring as it heated to boiling. He took the cold cup and emptied it down the sink, then produced another of my mugs — this one declared, ‘Trainee Genius’, which I might give to Trish when she’s a little older, she doesn’t drink tea or coffee at the moment–at least not very often, whereas I do. I have my own mugs because unlike the others I don’t like drinking from a thick cup or mug, so I have bone china mugs. Okay, so I’m a cup snob–sue me.

Simon sat opposite me with a glass of Guinness. He sipped his drink and I sipped mine luxuriating for a moment in its reviving qualities. “So are you going to tell me?”

“Tell you?”

“What’s been on your mind and where you were all day?”

I sighed, “Okay. I went to the university physics department and confused them.”

“Yeah, and?”

“I asked them to see if they could measure the energy which comes from me when I heal someone.”

“Was that wise?”

“Look, I’m trying to understand it, and I thought if it was measurable, it could tell me something.”

“Was it and did it?”

“They measured it, but perhaps unsurprisingly, it was paradoxical.”

“Paradoxical?”

“Yeah, it changed at different points like microwave energy at one point and then zooming off into ultraviolet wavelengths at another.”

“Were you controlling any of it?”

“A little, they did scans of it and produced these.” I showed him the printouts.

“Is that you behind all this swirling?”

“Yes, they suggested two points of concentration my head and my heart.”

“Hardly surprising is it? I suppose this is it flowing from your hands?”

“I suppose so too, I don’t really know and I don’t think they do either.”

“So is this something new to science?”

“Only insofar as the production site, humans aren’t supposed to be able to do it.”

“Oh I dunno, Mark Cavendish produced a few watts himself this afternoon–he won another stage.”

“Oh bugger, I forgot it was on.”

“There’s probably highlights on the internet somewhere.”

“Yeah, I’ll look tomorrow.”

“I thought you were interested?”

“I am, but this worries me.”

“Why–so, I married an alien–so?”

“Thanks, Simon, you give me so much support.”

“Why do I feel as if you just told me off while appearing not to?”

“Because I did, dumbo.”

“Ah, that would explain it.”

“Jeez,” I sighed.

“It’s a good job you have voice recognition software on your computer.”

“Why?”

“To start with, as far as I know, computers don’t do irony, and it would be a very confused machine, seeing as you rarely say what you mean.”

“I rarely say what I mean? You’re always telling me off for being too direct with people.”

“That’s different.”

“What is? Now who’s being indirect?”

“You can be too direct with outsiders but frequently talk obliquely to us–here at home.”

“Do I?”

“If you didn’t I’d hardly be raising it as an issue would I?”

“I suppose not.”

“So, are you an alien, then?”

“As much as anyone born in Dumfries and raised in Bristol is.”

“Yeah, I suppose that would have an impact–talk about different environs.”

“I don’t think I want to at the moment.”

“Okay–what about these microwaves–can we save on the electricity bills–have you cook the dinner instead? Am I safe–would I get cooked if you got too passionate in bed?” He shook his head, “Nah, you never get that passionate.”

“You what?”

“You never get that passionate. I do all the passion–you lay there like a wet blanket waiting for someone to hang you on the line.”

“I do not, I’m every bit as passionate as you, and I don’t fart and go to sleep afterwards.”

“No, you fall asleep during.”

“How can anyone fall asleep while having six inches...”

“Seven,” he corrected.

“Seven? Have you been doing exercises?”

“Very funny.”

“No it isn’t, you told me it was six inches long.”

“No I didn’t, it’s seven, always has been–well since I’ve been an adult.”

Of course, I did the worst possible thing, I went and got my sewing basket and a tape measure. “Right let’s sort this now. Here’s seven inches–you aren’t that big, that’s for sure.”

“It’s not going to just stand up for any old measure you know–besides that’s cold and you know as well as I do, cold makes them shrink.”

“If that’s the case how do polar bears, seals and penguins manage to get it on?”

“How do I know, you’re the biologist.”

“True–hmmm–I can’t say I know–don’t get many polar bears in Hampshire.”

“I’ve an idea,” declared Simon, “Let’s go to bed and make mad passionate love and forget about microwaving polar bears with long willies.”

“I wasn’t thinking about such things–but I am now–you are weird, Simon Cameron.”

“I’m weird? Take a look in the mirror Watts. At least I’m not lethal alien.”

“You make me sound like some sort of virus. You’re Scottish born as well.”

“So? I’m a fully paid up porridge eater, not some gone to ground, sleeper variety, like someone we know.”

“Oh yeah, I turn into Robert the Bruce at the stroke of midnight.”

“Ugh–do you? Remind me not to be givin’ you all my passion while you turn into some arachnological fixated bloke–I mean it could get embarrassing.”

“When I was a dormouse fixated one, you coped.”

“Cathy, you were never a bloke–okay–well, except for the purposes of me winning this argument.”

“You can’t win an argument–that’s not allowed.”

“Since when?”

“Whenever I wrote down the rules.”

“Rules?”

“Yes, here.” I handed him a sheet of paper with some wording I’d got from a birthday card years ago.

He began to read them aloud. “The boss is always right. In the event of any disagreement, rule 1 applies.”

I smirked and he frowned.

“That’s a bit heads you win, tails I lose.”

“Just a bit.”

“A bit?”

“Alright, a big bit–so what?”