Scrapbook

by Michael White

  “Besides, it’s genetically locked to my thumb print.”

  “Wow.” said Pip, “Nice. Mind you, in one of dad’s films they cut off a man’s finger and used it to open the fingerprint lock.”

  “No way.” laughed Queeb, “Gross!” and Pip laughed too. They stood there for a few moments longer giving the saucer the once over and as the buzzing started coming from Queeb’s pocket again they walked back down the ramp and into the field. By the time they had the grass below their feet it had stopped again.

  “What’s that in your pocket?” asked Queeb who had walked down the ramp behind Pip and had therefore noticed the comic book in his back pocket.

  “It’s my comic book.” said Pip. “Well. I found it really.” he pulled it out of his pocket and showed it to Queeb, whose eyes went wide. “It’s Meteor man. He has been captured by the Green Mole.”

  “Cool.” said Queeb.

  “Shall we read it?” said Pip, sitting down on the ramp. Queeb nodded and sat beside him. They placed the comic book in the middle so it straddled their knees and slowly began to read the pages, Pip turning them over when Queeb was ready.

  “This is so rad.” said Queeb. “Meteor Man is one mean dude.”

  “That Green Mole is a loser.” Said Pip, and Queeb nodded in agreement.

  They sat in silence reading for a while, and five minutes later they had reached the last page. The buzzing sound had only happened once during their reading session and as they put the comic down both were smiling.

  “The Mole Man sure got it up his ass!” said Pip and both he and Queeb sat giggling on the ramp for a while. Eventually the buzzing sound began again and sighing, Queeb reached into his shorts pocket and pulled out what looked like a mobile phone. That is to say it resembled a mobile phone. But as Queeb sat staring at it glumly Pip leaned in to look and he could see the display was almost in 3D; holographic almost. There were lots of icons on the front as well.

  “Mum.” said Queeb. “She will want to know where I am.”

  “Where are you meant to be?” asked Pip.

  “School.” said Queeb. “Only I thought to myself, “I wonder what everyone does when I am at school. Does everything look the same? So here I am. “

  “Me too!” said Pip. “I am meant to be in school too.”

  “Mum is going to be really pissed when she finds out I am not.”

  “Ooh you said, “pissed”!” laughed Pip and Queeb giggled too.

  “I did.” said Queeb. “Pissed. Pissed. Pissed. Pissed.” Both Pip and Queeb rolled about the ramp laughing at this, the mobile forgotten by Queeb’s side. Pip gave it the once over and then picked it up for a closer look.

  “Wow!” you got Facebook!” said Pip suddenly, pointing at a familiar icon on the phone’s display. “My mum and dad won’t let me have Facebook. Or a mobile phone.” He paused, thinking for a moment, almost as if he were counting. “Or anything that is ace at all really.” he concluded, glumly.

  “Parents can be a pain in the ass sometimes.” said Queeb, standing. “Still. I guess that I had better get back. I can always say that the saucer malfunctioned. Might even persuade them to let me take the stabilisers off if I blame them for missing class.”

  “Well it has been nice meeting you.” said Pip as Queeb gathered up the silver box, golden cloak and toy gun and placed them all on the inside of the box to make it easier to carry. He carried them all up the ramp and threw them inside the ship, and rubbing his hands came back down the ramp. Once he reached the bottom he looked at his grazed knee again. The blue blood was all but gone now, all but a thin line remaining on his knee. Queeb licked his fingers and rubbed the cut carefully.

  “Won’t your mum wonder where you are?” asked Queeb and Pip thought about it for a second or two. It really had not occurred to him.

  “I suppose so.” he said finally. “I didn’t think about it really. I just wanted to see what the world looked like when i was usually at school.”

  “Does it look any different?” asked Queeb and Pip shook his head.

  “Well the woods look the same anyway.” said Pip. “Though I must say I haven’t seen a flying saucer before. That is different.”

  “Ah well that’s just something that happened really. If I was playing alien conquerors I would have probably ended up gully running on your moon or something.”

  The two of them stood there for a moment looking at each and at that moment they both simultaneously smiled.

  “I think everything looks more or less the same as it does even when we are not in it.” smiled Pip and Queeb nodded. They smiled again and then looked away, examining the day and the things they had led them to this field, and although neither of them said it they both felt happy to have met even if neither of them actually said so.

  “Wow. Cool.” said Pip wide eyed, returning to the conversation. “Gully running sounds great even if it wasn’t on the moon.” Queeb smiled.

  “It’s okay really. But I think that you may be in the poop.”

  From somewhere far enough to still be distant but still to be within hearing range they both heard the sound of several dogs barking and whistles being blown.

  “I think they are looking for you.” said Queeb and Pip felt butterflies flutter in his tummy.

  “I didn’t think about it really.” said Pip. “They are going to be really mad aren’t they?”

  “I think so yes.” said Queeb. “But I have to go. Mum and dad will be totally pissed if your lot find me or the saucer here.”

  “Of course.” stammered Pip as Queeb more or less ran up the saucer ramp.

  “I can help!” shouted Queeb. Just stand very still, and remember to shout like crazy when you get back. Say the door was locked. Okay?”

  “What?” asked Pip, not sure what his new friend was talking about, but it was too late. Queeb was already waving goodbye and the ramp was now almost closed. As he watched it slammed shut and lights of many different colours began to run around the edge of the saucer, circling the edge, spinning faster and faster.

  “Stand still, remember!” came a voice loudly from the saucer as it began to rise from the forest clearing, the legs retracting silently into the body of the saucer as it ascended. Pip nodded. From nearby now he heard dogs barking, whistles being blown. The saucer rose quickly, Pip glancing nervously off into the woods where the sounds of voices calling his name suddenly echoed across the fields. Then the craft was directly above his head and he saw a small slot open underneath it and a brilliant beam of green light lifted him from his feet. There was a slight feeling of disorientation, a blazing green light that made him shut his eyes tightly and rather oddly a strange odour of what very much reminded him of the smell of cow poo and then suddenly it all vanished and everything was quiet.

  Pip looked about, keeping as quiet as he possibly could, turning slowly to try and see where he was. It was only when he turned around however that he saw the toilet and realised where Queeb had put him. He looked at the back of the door and sure enough there were Andrew Campbell’s initials written in pen on the back of the school toilet door. Joey Tyler said that Andrew had written his initials in poo but Pip didn’t believe him because he knew the toilets were cleaned every day by Mrs. Shelton and she was hardly likely to leave poo on the wall now, was she?

  He gulped, remembering what Queeb had said. “Shout like crazy!” he remembered him saying and now all of a sudden he knew what the plan was.

  “Help! Help!” shouted Pip as loud as he could. “Help! I am locked in the toilet!”

  ***

  “I can’t understand it.” said the policeman who stood over Pip, examining the toilet door carefully, one eye on Pip at all times. “I am sure that I checked the toilet door before and he most definitely wasn’t locked in then!”

  “Well you must be mistaken.” said Pip’s dad irritably. “My poor son gets locked in the toilet and you lot can’t find him even though he he is shouting for help. A sorry state of affairs is that, make no mistake!”<
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  “Don’t carry on so, John.” said Pip’s mum, Mary. “It is not the officer’s fault that the toilet lock was faulty. I think the school are more to blame here than the police. If they had looked after the door locks properly then poor Pip would not have got stuck in there in the first place.”

  Pip noticed the janitor across the room cringe slightly.

  “I am sure the door is fine.” he said, “When we released the lad I could see nothing wrong with the lock at all.”

  “Are you saying my son is not capable of opening a locked door?” said Pip’s dad angrily and Pip went out into the school corridor to wait. he knew by past instances that this could take some time.

  ***

  Pip’s parents sat down to watch the television. It had been several weeks since the incident in the toilets and now they both smiled when they remembered it. They were also pleased that Pip seemed to have a new friend and they seemed to be spending a lot of time together. In fact, they had just left to go to the park.

  “Pip’s new friend Queeb is very nice, isn’t he?” said Mister Norris.

  “Very polite.” said Mrs. Norris. “I like that. Good manners go far my mum used to say and she was right enough.”

  “Bit green though isn’t he?” asked Mr. Norris, his eyes not leaving the television.

  “Now John.” said Mrs. Norris, “We will have none of that racist stuff in this house. He is a perfectly nice young man and very polite. His colour doesn’t come into it at all.”

  “If you say so, Mary.” said Mr. Norris, who had decided that now that the house was nice and peaceful that it was the perfect opportunity for forty winks. “If you say so.”

  ***

  “Strictly speaking Mons Hadley is the second biggest mountain on the moon.” said Queeb as they sat side by side, the mountains of the moon rushing past them as Queeb guided the saucer along the gulley’s and ravines of the mountain, moon dust scattering behind them in their wake. “Mons Huygens is the biggest, but there’s not much in it really.”

  “I thought the moon was flat!” laughed Pip as the saucer lurched suddenly left and then shot off in that direction.

  “No way!” shouted Queeb in excitement as they shot over a rise in the mountain and then plunged down into the ravine below almost like a big dipper.

  “Wow!” screamed Pip and Queeb in unison as they flew along the gulley’s of the moon, spinning and flying in every direction. “This is an amazing flying saucer, Queeb. The most amazing flying saucer ever!”

  Three Silver Dollars

  Old injun Joe said to me when he returned the three silver dollars that he stole from me, that he didn’t mean to take them in the first place. And you know, I’m old now and I’ve thought about it over the years, and as my knees began to ache and my back start to go and good Christ almighty himself only know what’s going on with my bowels, then I am forced to think to myself that you know maybe he was telling the truth.

  He knew he’d get caught for sure. The plain truth of the matter is that he was the only injun in town that day that was sober and never mind that quite a few of my neighbours and kinsfolk remember that they had seen him by my house. Three dollars don’t seem much at all these days I guess, but I am telling you now as God's my judge it was a heck of a lot of money way back then. A small fortune, and what injun had any money that he wasn’t going to spend on fire water or tobacco? None. That’s how many, and so when Pop Atkins at the hardware store was tasked with fulfilling an order from injun Joe for twelve bottles of the best whisky a man could afford he smelled a rat for sure, and the sheriff wasn’t far behind him either. After that the town jail was not far behind Joe either.

  Now I am an honest man as I am sure you all know, and the fact that injun Joe was locked up in the town jail with a noose already being measured up for him then I can tell you hand on heart that I still had an easy conscience. That may seem just a bit harsh to hear, but there’s a good reason I wasn’t worried in the slightest, and that was because injun Joe confessed. He spilt the beans the minute the sheriff turned up at the store where he was trying to buy a month's worth of whisky.

  “I know I shouldn’t have taken them silver dollars.” he said in that hokum-pokum voice he used whenever he was cloud busting or diving for water, or selling one of those hooky cure ‘em alls I am sure he pissed into little brown bottles out the back of the tent he called a home. “Here.” he said, “Take them back.”

  Course we obliged him with that but he was apologetic even when the sheriff said he was being given over to the town hangman at dawn the next day and so he had better make his peace. Didn’t stop him sending me a message asking to speak to me though. I was at the saloon at the time, drowning myself in liquor, and I wasn’t sure whether to go or not. As I say, I am a simple man and I wasn't over happy over having my name linked with the hanging of Joe, guilty or not. So in this frame of mind I downed my drink and went to see him.

  “Show me the three silver dollars.” he said through the bars of his cell in the jail, and I dug into my pockets and pulled them out.

  “Give them to me.” he said, and so I did, handing them over as meek as a child, though to this day I don't know why I did that. I do however have to say that I have an awful lot of reasons to be glad to say that I did pass them to him.

  So he took them from me and he began to sing, and I had as I said been at the saloon and so my two main thoughts were first of all to get back there and secondly to get the hell out of the town jail. Eventually he gave me them back and I placed them back in my pocket.

  “Lucky they are now.” he said and I smiled and went to get myself another damned drink. Hung him the next day they did and he went to the happy hunting ground or wherever the hell it is that he thought that he was going to meek as a lamb.

  Week later I am out in Texas looking at land.

  “It’s not even good enough for animals.” I said to the real estate man, but they wanted people to settle there so the railroads would come, and so he made me a deal.

  “Dollar for fifty acres.” he said and I shook his hand, and back in the lean-to he called an office but was no more than a wooden hut I put my mark on a piece of paper and the land was mine. I handed over one silver dollar and we shook hands.

  Two weeks later we struck oil. Well, if I am being completely correct than I will say we struck the first field of oil. Fifty acres is one hell of a lot of land and there were several strikes over the next few years.

  Truth to tell I never looked back. Oil was king back then; probably still is. There were setbacks. Course there were, but my one silver dollar made me wealthy. A nice house, a good wife and children. Times were good.

  I thought about Injun Joe and the three silver dollars of course, and so I resolved to keep the other two. In fact, I had them framed and hung them over the fire in my ranch. After a while they became part of the fabric of the house of course and I hardly paid them any attention at all. I did notice one year - well, probably twenty years down the line that the coins were a little tarnished and so I took them off to a silversmith in town and he polished them up for me. They looked better than they had been, but not as silver as when I first had them, but I think that’s an age thing you know, and it don’t just apply to coin polishing, I can tell you. So the coins went back in their frame above the fire and I thought no more about it.

  Then Abigail, my wife, fell ill. She was with child - my fourth - and there were complications. I could hear the screams as the women folk did their best but the doctor rode in and after he had seen her he shook his head.

  “Ain’t never seen anything that bad.” was his verdict. “Breech. Bad as I’ve ever seen, make no mistake of that. There’s nothing I can do. You’re going to lose Abigail and the baby.”

  I was distraught, rolling around the house with all the screaming going on and so I gazed above the fire and seeing the coins I smashed the frame and put them in my hand.

  “Doc humour me.” I said. I want you to do your best. Here is a
silver dollar.” and I gave him one of the coins, pocketing the last one. He looked at me as if I was crazy of course but went and did his best. Believe me over the years I wonder even now what would have happened if I had given him both of the coins, for Abigail, my wife died in childbirth, but my son was saved. He’s twenty now and is the spitting image of his momma. Breaks my heart every single day he does.

  Perhaps the coins are a curse was a thought that has been with me since, but I don’t see how because the first one gave me all I could ever want or need. The second let me down for sure, but you know, maybe I shouldn’t have given him just the one. Who knows? When all is said and done that’s what I did and that’s what happened and I have to live with it every day. So I shut my eyes and just carry on.

  So now I stand in the hospital with my last silver coin. Docs found something in my chest. Don’t know what it is really and so I am on my way to get the verdict. Doc said worst case is a cancer and it will kill me. Best case is they can do something about it, and I am about to find out which way it is going to fall. So as I made the appointment to see the doctor I insisted on a separate payment for the doctor’s time of one dollar, and I have the silver dollar clutched in my hand now ready to pay. Different doc this time thinking I’m crazy but you know I just don’t care. Seems to me that this last silver dollar is the best chance I have and I intend to use it.

  Yet I wonder sometimes. It’s as if the older a coin gets, the more its glamour wears off, as if by age it loses its glimmer; it’s shine, and this coin sure is one old lady. Still a stunner, that’s for sure, but old nonetheless. Old like me.

  So I sit in the doctor’s office waiting to be called in, and as I do so I pay my bill with my one last remaining silver dollar that injun Joe told me was lucky, and just before i hand it over I give it one last squeeze for luck and then spin it high into the air, catching it in my hand and turning it under my covered palm to my other hand.

  “So.” I say as the doctor opens his door to let me enter and for him to give me his verdict, “What’s it going to be?” I ask, a smile on my face. No point being morose. Never got a man far did that.