Wilson has received a letter in the mail, containing a second Picture Swap card from the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster.
I think he's pleased with the card, and flattered that the Spaghetti Monster remembered him… but I think he wished it had arrived in a big cardboard box that he could have been mysterious about.
The card seems to glow in the dark, which Wilson says is due to it's Pastafarian Holiness, but I suspect is due to some kind of luminous chemical. I shall insist that Wilson washes his paws before eating.
He's sitting in his library admiring his swap card, while still brooding about what could possibly have been in Nërp's Mystery Box…
If the picture on the card is an accurate depiction of the FSM, I think he'd do well to employ a stand-in, as Pope Alexander VI did for Jesus.
This is why in all Western paintings, JC look like a handsome Italian – they're paintings of the Pope's son, Cesare!
Early this morning a van stopped outside the house and a few moments later there was a knock at the door – it was a courier delivering a large box addressed to Nërp!
Wilson is a bit* put out that (for once!) the delivery was not for him.
Nërp is being very secretive about the box, carrying it into the bathroom and locking himself in before opening it.
Poor W is beside himself with curiosity, but trying supremely hard not to let it show…
_________
*Extremely
Wilson has been VERY busy today – he's converted the Guest Bedroom into his LIBRARY, saying that he needs somewhere to do his thinking and inventing.
I thought we needed somewhere for our guests to sleep, but I was apparently wrong.
As it turns out, I am usually* wrong…
Nërp is helping him move the books while Antony is assisting with arranging them in the right order according to some arcane system known only to him.
Tiny Toy is either sleeping or trying to think of some 'library' jokes (it's not easy to tell the difference with TT), while Uncle Zoltan (who once dated a book worm – literally, a worm who lived in a book) is trying to explain the Dewey Decimal System to anyone who will listen.
No-one is listening, so he's explaining at the Top Of His Voice! 📣
*Always
Nërp is in the living room doing some 'private research'.
I'm not sure how Private it will be, because Wilson is also in there gathering together every book in the house, for reasons which – for the time being at least – he is unwilling to discuss…
While the wedding guests were arriving, Wilson suddenly sat bolt upright, almost dropping his bottle of tequila, when he saw Cara Delevigne arriving in her black suit and top hat!
He thought she was some sort of time-shifting doppelgänger of his old love, gamine chanteuse and Eurovision runner-up Nina Morato, whose portrait has adorned his bedroom wall for many years…
'Such a clever idea, writing her initials on her wrist, in case she forgets them!' he told me later, 'I think I might try that myself…'
Later there was an awkward incident during the service – the part where the vicar asks, 'If any of you know cause, or just impediment, why these two Persons should not be joined together in Holy Matrimony, speak now, or forever hold your peace…'
Uncle Zoltan jumped up and shouted, 'I do! I know of Cause or Just Impediment! But I shan't tell ye what it is – ye'll all find out soon enough…'
No one took any notice, because Uncle Z always does that at weddings – he can't help himself. But I think he was labouring under the same misapprehension Wilson once held: that the people on TV can hear what we're saying if we shout loudly enough!
Wilson has never considered himself a Royalist, but a Royal Wedding presents such an opportunity to (repeatedly) 'Toast the Happy Couple' that he's willing to make an exception on this occasion.
The Happy Couple is being Toasted with a cocktail of Wilson's invention, incorporating (appropriately*) Tequila, and Gin, which W calls The Princess Eu-GIN-ie…
This is apparently a Secret Recipe, but in honour of the joyous occasion W is willing to share it with you:
Mix together equal quantities of
TEQUILA
VODKA
GIN and
RUM
garnish with ANTS and serve – CHEERS!
___________________________
*The groom is a Tequila salesman 🍸
'Look,' I began, 'I'm sorry there were a couple of places we didn't get to visit…'
'Seven places!' Wilson interrupted to correct my arithmetic.
'And I'm as sorry as anyone that we didn't get to them, but there was a cancellation at the hospital that meant I could have my operation sooner than expected.'
W sniffed, but said nothing.
'I suppose we COULD go back to Dorset to finish off the holiday. But,' – and here I played my Ace Card – 'it's getting very near to Hallowe'en, then Bonfire Night, and then Xmas. I just don't think we could fit it all in…'
This hung in the air for a few awkward moments, so to fill the silence I continued, 'However, as soon as the weather improves after Xmas, I'm sure we could manage another holiday – either to Dorset, or maybe to somewhere new.'
Wilson glanced at Nërp, who nodded imperceptibly.
'Yesss!' W replied, punching the air. 'YESSSSS!!!'
Say what you like about him – Wilson is a skilled negotiator!
Now I'm left wondering how he will fill the time between now and our next holiday…
While Wilson stared expectantly at me, I read his list of places we'd not managed to visit:
The New Forest,
Wareham St Martin,
Studland,
Portland Bill,
Weymouth Pier,
Nothe Fort and
Lulworth Cove.
'We did get to the Fleet Air Arm Museum AND the National Motor Museum at Beaulieu!' I reminded him, but he just frowned and tapped the list with one claw…
Wilson listened to my observations about his new business, and took my criticisms pretty well, all things considered.
Excusing himself, he ran off to the tumble dryer, returning with a sheet of paper which he pushed across the table to me.
'This,' he said, 'is a list of places we didn't get to when our holiday was cut short because of your operation. Now that you can see again, I think we should go back to visit them.'
Pausing for a moment, he added, 'And now you've got your new eyes, you'll be able to see them even better than before!'
I have a number of serious misgivings about Wilson and Nërp's new business, ZombieBusters.
I sat the boys down in the dining room (well, Wilson sat – Nërp stood because his legs don't bend) and voiced my thoughts.
Not least of these is that Wilson, along with everyone else, spent the duration of the Zombie Invasion cowering indoors, terrified.
Then there is the small detail that the zombies weren't 'removed' or 'eliminated' – they just left, apparently of their own accord. All that Nërp actually did (and I don't want to minimise his bravery) was establish that there were no zombies in Uckfield.
Finally there is the tricky matter of there not actually having been any zombies in the first place.
Everyone tried to be so brave in the face of what turned out to be an illusory threat that I shall not mention this final point unless I have to…
Wilson and Nërp have proudly shown me the logo for their new business, ZombieBusters.
Antony is a bit put out by the demarcation of labour in this new enterprise – in the past he has always done Wilson's business accounts, but apparently Nërp has an original, signed copy of VisiCalc v1.0 installed, so is therefore the obvious choice as Business Manager and Accountant.
I have more fundamental doubts about this venture, and I fear I shall have to bite the bullet and mention them…
EVER THE ENTREPRENEUR, Wilson thinks he has discovered a way to monetise our recent problem: he's going to start a Zombie Removal and Eradication Service.
Obviously the first step in any new business enterprise is to design a logo, and he and Nërp (who will apparently be a partner in this venture) are in the dining room doing just that.
I would have thought there were other steps to take before offering such a service – perhaps a little market research, just to establish whether there's any demand for such a facility – but what do I know?
Wilson has started many, many businesses in the past, so I suppose he must know what he's doing…
It emerged later that Nërp had muddled up Zombies – the brain-eating undead, and Wombles – the cheerful, fluffy Wimbledon-based recycling experts.
'If I'd known,' he explained over breakfast, 'I would never have volunteered. I'd have voted for Uncle Zoltan to go!'
Later I was chatting with one of our neighbours and asked whether they'd been incommoded by the Zombies' visitation.
'Oh, what you mean the Zombie Hunters' Van?' He laughed, and explained, 'That belongs to my wife's nephew! He came to stay for the weekend, and his mates paid to have his van done up like that for his birthday present – it's brilliant, isn't it? Really convincing!'
So… there had never been any zombie invasion!
Everyone had been so brave that I think I shall keep that information to myself…
AND RELAX… we're all safe!
Nërp the Robot bravely went out last night looking for the zombies, and he didn't find any! Also, the Zombie Response Team Vehicle has gone, so they're probably fighting the Zombie Threat somewhere that isn't Uckfield.
Nërp was gone all night, and we'd started to fear the worst, but it turned out that his battery went flat and he had to spend a lot of time in an all-night café getting a recharge and pretending to drink coffee.
Now that the danger is over, we're making the most of this unseasonal sunshine with our children, Johnson Major and Johnson Minor, playing in the grass and preparing for the winter football [soccer] season – although why anyone would want to play football in the winter is beyond us! Muddy, cold, damp… UGH!
Anyway, we've been The Bees and we'll see you again next month.
Until then, BEEEEEEEEE CAREFUL AND LOOK OUT FOR VAMPIRES!
DAY THREE of the siege, and supplies are running low – we have already exhausted our supplies of ice-cream!
Wilson is starting to worry about inadvertently eating Zombie Ants and becoming infected with what he calls the Zombie Lurgy…
Eventually, Nërp bravely volunteered to go outside to see whether the zombies were still at large – he reasoned that since his brain was electro-mechanical the Zombies were unlikely to eat it, and unless they were also equipped with antique Philips DIN plugs and leads would not even be able to access it.
Everyone, including Uncle Z, Cheered enthusiastically, but Nërp hushed them, saying, 'Shhh – the zombies will hear you!'
Uncle Zoltan suggested that Nërp should take with him a crucifix and a clove of garlic, but Wilson Googled this and found that Uncle Z was confusing Zombies with Vampires – an easy mistake to make, in the circumstances.
As dusk fell, Wilson silently unlocked and opened the front door so that Nërp could slip out unobserved into the darkness. As he left, he gave Wilson a brave smile, but his tuneless humming betrayed his nervousness.
I can't help feeling that there would be less chance of him drawing attention to himself if he turned off the flashing message announcing 'Top Secret Mission' on his display screens, but I'm no expert in these matters…
Since the siege began there has been much discussion about who will be brave enough to step outside and check whether the threat has passed.
All the children were obviously excluded, but Wilson felt strongly that Uncle Zoltan would be the ideal volunteer.
'He could slip out through the letterbox, unobserved, make a stealthy reconnoitre of the area, then secretly return through the gap under the front door to report back!'
Uncle Z, while pleased to be the centre of attention, was understandably less keen on this plan, pointing out that the buzzing of his wings would draw the Zombies' attention to him.
'Moreover,' he added, 'while I would happily sacrifice my life to save all of your lives, (well, most of you, anyway) I fear that I might alert the Zombie Hordes to your presence here…'
Wilson peered out through the letterbox, and intoned in a sombre voice: 'They're still there – the zombies are still among us!'
He considered for a moment, before adding, 'Or should that be "amongst" us? I'm never sure…'
Until this moment it had never occurred to me that Zombies were actually a thing… but everyone else seemed to be taking the matter very seriously.
Wilson and Nërp ran back to the house and moved many of the cardboard boxes littering the garden onto the front path to form a barricade, then locked and deadlocked the door.
While Nërp went to ensure the security of the rear entrance and check on the sTone Brothers' safety, Wilson stood nervously inside the front door, peering through the patterned glass and trying to make out what was going on.
Occasionally he would shout through the letterbox, 'Go away! We're not in!'
I slept surprisingly well last night – considering that I was sharing my bed with several dozen large cardboard boxes – although I was roused from my convalescent slumber by Nërp tapping at the bedroom door.
He entered without waiting, apologised for the intrusion, then told me that Wilson needed me downstairs, 'On a matter of some urgency!'
I pulled on some clothes and rushed downstairs, where I found Nërp waiting by the front door. 'This way!' he called, 'And please hurry!'
He accompanied me out into the street where I found Wilson regarding a strange white van.
Whatever I had been expecting, I can honestly say this was at the bottom of my list…
By the time I reached the bedroom, I was not altogether surprised to find my bed also covered in boxes.
'If it's a bit crowed in here, New Dad, you can share with me in the Tumble Dryer!' Wilson offered, generously.
I'm not altogether certain this is what the Hospital meant when they told me to take it easy for a few days, be sure to get plenty of rest…
After a trying day at the hospital and an irritating homecoming, I thought it was time to follow my surgeon's advice and take it easy.
Thinking I'd lie down on the bed, I clambered over some boxes and fought my way upstairs to the bedroom in search of tranquility...
Peace...
Rest...
Relaxation...
Wilson called after me, 'Watch your step, New Dad – there's one or two things on the stairs. What with you not being able to see properly, I wouldn't want you to trip and damage them, 'cos the insurance isn't in place yet!'
