Sunday, September 10, 2006

'Streuth! What's Out There?!'

I know what my new club will be, 'The Aliens'.
It will be for believers only and I will be the leader.

'If the cleaner comes in here,' says Mr Chuckle. 'please ask her to go to the basement area, we'll need to clear away the rest of your insects.' I nod because that way my toungue stays in my mouth. 'I'll collect you later,' he says and closes the door, leaving me alone. Foolish mortal.
Mr Chuckle's office walls have lots of NASA photos of the moon and astronauts and I wonder which astronaut will be presenting the flight-competition prize to my class while I am stuck in here. I felt big coming in, like a hero but now I am just cheesed off. I look around for something interesting to do; there is all the usual officy stuff - shelves stuffed with boring-looking files, a computer and actually some nifty little fiddle toys for the desk. I pick up the nearest one, it is a spongy alien spaceship, with the words 'Streuth! What's out there?' printed on it; three tiny alien heads are pressed up against a window and they look a bit sick at what they are seeing, especially when you squeeze them. Then I fiddle with the pumpy-type rocket next which is a bad move as I pump it so hard it jumps off its stand and into the opening door. The rocket falls to earth with a nasty crack. A woman with spiky hair and large glasses comes in. She is carrying an odd looking vacuum cleaner - it is a box with tubes wibbling out of it.
'Have you seen Mr Chuckle... oh, is that your rocket?' she asks, 'I'm so sorry.' She bends down and hands it to me, grinning. 'Here, you'll have to work on its propulsion, I'm afraid. '
'I like your vacuum cleaner,' I say, taking the rocket remains. She says nothing just laughs as though I have made a big joke. I hate myself for noticing she has really white teeth. 'You have really white teeth,' I say. Bother, I said it out loud. 'And, it's not my rocket, I broke it.'
'Ah,' she says and looks at her watch. 'Well, I'm meant to be somewhere else...'
'Oh yes Mr Chuckle wants you to suck up some insects,' I am pleased I remember that.
She purses her lips. 'Does he? How bizarre...well, maybe I could help you, just for a minute or two.' She puts down her box. 'Why are you here anyway?'
So I tell her about Miranda and the insects and the rocket competition I am missing. And because her teeth are so white I somehow let her know how much I want to meet Buzz Aldrin. and before I know it we have mended the fiddle toy in a clever way. And she winks and says.
See you later, maybe.'
I hope so. Even the cleaners are brilliant at The Science Museum.



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8 comments:

Atyllah said...

Ooh, Wilf, I think you've found a new friend. Are you quite sure she's human. I mean, you never know who or what you might find lurking at the science museum.
And you know how those aliens looked sick looking out their window at what they were seeing - I feel like that everyday looking at what people are doing to your planet.

Saaleha said...

oooh, sounds sinister. Are you sure, Wilf dear, that she was a cleaner. Maybe she's an , (should I say it? yes, yes,) Alien, ooooh

Susan Abraham said...

Hi Wilf,

What a great post and I love the picture.
Reminds me of when I was little in my fantasy land, with my own brand of imagination.
I cherished my odd collection of robots, rockets, helicopters, aeroplanes and double-decker buses.
You've brought it all back. So thank you.
I guess the toybox still hides somewhere in my heart.

Big Kiss, Wilf!

Khylan Seriphyn said...

Ooh. Cute post. The Cleaner, well...

Wilf said...

I like new friends and she did look fairly ordinary to me but then you never really know what is behind the mask, eh Atyllah?

Wilf said...

In my new role as leader of 'The Alien Club' I feel that I must really consider that as a possibility. Of course I could start closer to home - I have always thougt The Parents were pretty alien.

Wilf said...

I think you should always keep your toybox somewhere near. You never know when you may need it, Susan.

Wilf said...

You do not think she was a cleaner either, Khylan? Maybe you are right...