TDX2 - Too Dull To Die

by Dani J Caile

everything.” The moped bunny-hopped and Satan gave it a kick. “I don’t like to go fast, it plays havoc with my bladder. And there are reasons for a speed limit, my boy. Though as you mention it, for myself, speeding on the surface is wonderful, along with drink driving. And those cancer sticks, too. Huge money makers for those monkeys in power, but also great business for me. They kill so many, and I get them all.”

  Guido was horrified. “Sorry? I don’t understand. You get everyone who dies while speeding, or everyone who speeds?”

  “The latter, dear boy. And smokes. They both show a complete lack of disrespect for their fellow monkeys. Who cares about the law, it’s your neighbour which is important.” The moped was now putting along quite nicely. “Suicides are mine, too. Lack of respect for their own vehicle, and it’s a break in their service contract.”

  “Their what?” Guido was now both horrified and confused.

  “Oh, don’t bother yourself with it, dear boy.” Guido was trying to get to grips with this new information. Never speed, never smoke, never commit suicide. Important information, if he wasn’t already dead.

  A bubble appeared around them, this time hot and sticky, and it burst with a ‘splat’. Guido was again in a tunnel, though this was different from the one with Graham. It was not a nice place to be. He was happy when it finally collapsed on them and ‘splatted’ them into a memory scene. Guido didn’t recognise it.

  “Where are we?” The moped stopped and they both got off and observed the place. There was a crowd of people watching some kind of outdoor stage show. The people were dressed in ancient European clothing, while the performers were dressed as Mongolians and singing to the crowd. There was a lot of drinking and dancing. “Was this in my life? I think I would’ve remembered something like this.” Guido walked around, through the crowd and up onto the stage to get a closer look at the singers.

  “Mmm, no it wasn’t. It’s in mine. Sorry, dear boy, we seem to be in my memory.” Satan shook his TT. “I don’t know why, give me a moment, please.” Satan sat down on a tree stump and got out some tools.

  “What’s happening? What is all this?” Guido was now checking out the performers’ costumes.

  “Oh, this? It’s Festival Day in an old Balkan village and some Mongolians are singing. Can’t quite remember when. Does it matter?”

  “I thought Mongolians were ruthless people, you know, like Genghis Khan who rode through Europe, slaying all before him.”

  “What are you? A History book? Yes, they were dangerous and ‘ruthless’, as you say.” Satan’s TT gave out a puff of smoke as he tinkered with it.

  “Nice song.”

  “Yes, these people seem to think so.”

  “And I like their costumes and decoration.” Guido particularly liked their decorational scimitars.

  “That’s not decoration, dear boy.”

  “What?”

  “Just listen to the song.”

  “Yes, it’s excellent.” Guido was getting into the melody and rhythm.

  “Excellent? The lyrics, listen to the lyrics.”

  “ Sorry, I’m British…was British, we don’t do languages. I couldn’t quite get to grips with French, let alone something highly exotic like Mongolian. Besides, it wasn’t on the syllabus. Really, I haven’t a clue what they’re singing.”

  “Neither do they, ha!” Satan gave up on his TT for the moment.

  “What are they singing about, then?”

  “Oh, the usual. Goes something like ‘We’ve come to burn your houses, slaughter your children, rape your wives and defecate down your headless necks.’ I can’t tell in which order, as tenses in their language aren’t so important.”

  “Oh.” Guido stepped back as one of the Mogolians drew his scimitar, to great applause. “The crowd is clapping.”

  “Well, it’s always good to enjoy yourself before dying, isn’t it?”

  “Quite.” Satan’s remark made Guido wish he’d ordered that taxi to the airport a bit earlier than he had. About a day earlier.

  “Ah-ha, I see the problem. Silly me.” Satan hit a button on his TT and the wires slipped from their foreheads. Before Guido could think as to what to do next, the wires had been exchanged. “Dear boy, please, back on you get.” Satan had already sat back onto the moped. “Unless you want to stay for the finale. It’s a bit gory, maybe not to your liking.”

  “Oh, right.” Guido jumped off the stage just as the first slash cut through the audience. He sat on the moped to the accompaniment of screaming, and they putted along through the chaos of frightened fleeing people. Two ‘pops’ later and they were back into Guido’s memories.

  (Back to Top)

  8

  Guido was back in a classroom, the same one as before. Was this time in his life so important? The TT thought so. Satan was off and running around the classroom, looking, listening, completely enjoying himself.

  “Wonderful. Jolly old English classroom full of children. It’s great to finally be in your memory, my dear fellow. You can’t imagine how suburban it can be ‘down below’.”

  “Where?” Guido recognised that it was an Art lesson. That Art lesson. He went over to his young self and checked which picture it was. Yes, that was the one, a large dark blue sea with one man rowing in a small boat. It was a wonder that the teacher couldn’t pick up on such an A-level Psychology child development problem. Looking at it now, it was obvious that he’d felt completely isolated.

  “Ah there you are, dear boy.” They watched as a big boy whispered into young Guido’s ear. “What’s happening here?”

  “York is bullying me into saying something nasty about Tammy’s painting. It was a great picture, bright, happy, open. It was truly great. And I made her cry. See.” Satan cherished every moment as they watched it all play out. Guido turned away.

  “So, you were bad.”

  “I was weak, I was a coward. I didn’t want to get hit by York. It’s not the same.”

  “So you decided to hurt someone else rather than get hurt. That’s bad.” Satan examined Tammy’s painting and gave it the thumbs up. “How did you feel when you were criticising her painting?”

  “I felt…does it matter?” Guido realised that he’d actually felt good about saying bad things to Tammy. Did that mean he was bad? Satan looked over at Guido’s picture and shook his head.

  “Are you convinced yet? Want to see more?”

  “I wasn’t bad. Just scared. And weak.”

  “Please, back on the moped. Relax.” Guido joined the now seated Satan and off they went, through yet another bubble. In two ‘pops’ the scene changed to Guido’s bedroom. “Ah, that’s more like it, dear boy, alone in your own bedroom.” They saw the young Guido sitting cross-legged on the floor, bent down, his arm shaking in his lap. “Excellent. But I don’t really need to see this, do I? Or do I?” Satan was again the first one off the moped, studying the seated boy.

  “I remember this.” Guido got off and walked up to his young self.

  “I bet you do. Again, you were bad, really bad.”

  “I should have been doing my homework.” Guido sat cross-legged and watched.

  “Well, that’s one kind of ‘homework’.” Satan got back on the moped. Guido saw Satan was ready to go elsewhere. “Convinced yet? Are you ready to be processed?”

  “No. Really, you’ve got to see this.”

  “No, not really. Seen one, seen them all.” Satan’s TT made a strange noise and he checked it out. “Look, it might’ve been good for you, but it’s not really a spectator sport.” Satan hit his device and the noise stopped.

  “What do you mean?” Guido couldn’t follow Satan’s chain of thought. “We used to get together in groups at school in the breaks and do this kind of thing all the time. Of course, It was a bit different…”

  “What? In groups? You were really bad.” A dice hit the floor and the young Guido wrote something down on the piece of paper in front of him. Satan got off the moped to investigate.

  “I adapte
d this game from the dice cricket we played at school. This one’s based on American Football. I used to make leagues and seasons and everything. It was great! I had a lot of fun.” Satan came to the front of the boy and examined the paper. “Of course, it was a complete waste of time, but it was better than doing my school homework.” Satan gave Guido a sideways glance and walked back to the moped. “So, am I bad here? To do this instead of my homework?”

  “No.” Satan started up the moped. “Just sad, very very sad. Get back on. I’ll prove to you that you’re bad.” Guido obliged and got on the back.

  (Back to Top)

  9

  The journey to the next scene didn’t take long, another tunnel, more ‘pops’ and a different school came into view.

  “My dear boy, you seemed to have had a lot of influential experiences at school. Did you like the place?”

  “No, I didn’t.” That question was easy, Guido endured school. It wasn’t that he was stupid, or even clever, he was just not very good company, he never did or said anything. He was a dull child and an even duller adult, he had to admit that. Satan stopped the moped at a mass of queues, children noisily waiting for their buses to take them home, pushing, shoving, jumping in and generally being loud and obnoxious.

  “Where are you? All these children have the same uniform.”

  Guido applauded Satan on finding another memory he had no desire to relive. “Congratulations. I really hated this one.”

  “Thank you, dear boy, but you are the one who chooses where we go.” Guido