.. tangled up in blue ..

He had always thought the moon was fake. A projection by the government, or somebody like that, and they could turn it on and off whenever they wanted. He continued to stare out of his window until he was attracted to the door because of a familiar knocking. He was very good with knocks; he could always tell who it was.
'And how are you my lovely?' Angela asked squeezing her way through into the living room.
'I'm perfectly fine thank you. Who starts a sentence with 'and'?' He itched the back of his head before staring at the floor.
'What's the matter?'
'I've had some thoughts about how they project it. Plus I've got another theory on why they had to pretend about all that Russia and America stuff.'
'There's something else, isn't there?' She knew. He knew she knew, and, she knew he knew she knew.
'I got a bit... On the trip today. Well, you know that rain cloud that's been following me about? I told Sally and she said I was stupid.'
There was a silence. Only the faint cries and fits of the outside traffic could be heard. He looked outside again first at the moon and then at people swarming by. Why were they rushing? He could never work it out. He had to move somewhere quieter. Wales is nice, he thought. He suddenly remembered Angela's presence and he always knew that whenever she was quiet, hardly ever, she wanted him to explain himself.
'I did the toilet in her lunchbox.'
'I'm sorry.'
'I went to the toilet in her lunchbox. Then I closed it and put it back. It was with the rest of the luggage. When she found it she cried. She was upset like how I was.'
'Not again. What have we said about this? Is it silly to ask which one?'
'She's the one with the ponytails and she's…'
'I meant which toilet thingy.'
'You know I can't urinate in public.'
'This has all got to stop. All of it. The toilet business, the kicking ducks…'
'They're snobs. They reckon they only eat wholemeal now.'
'Shut up. The nakedness, the weird collections…'
'Weird? What's weird?'
'How many people are interested in nut cutlets?'
'At our last meeting there were twenty six of us. It used to be more. Like seventy.' He looked at the moon again. 'Oh, to be seventy again.'
'And you bit the dentist again. Why didn't you tell me about that?'
'Man is an idiot. He sticks those things in my mouth. He's sucking my brain out and guess who gets the information? Anyway, if you had been there I would have told you.'
'You know I would but Jamie is ill at the moment and I had to…'
'I hate going on my own.'
There was an icy silence. The room soaked up the words.
'I hate going anywhere on my own.'
The room had soaked too much. It began to drip. Sadness started to leak and spill. Angela didn't want it to drown them.
'Why don't we go and get some afternoon tea at The Little Tramp's?'
'It's eight o'clock.'
'It's open all night.'
'Why would I want to drink afternoon tea at night? I have trouble sleeping anyway. I don't need all that tea in me.' He visualised the bottle of whisky he had stashed under the cupboard next to his toaster. 'I'll be fine and dandy here, thank you kindly.'
'Well what about a walk? Or a film?'
'Hate the cinema here. All they show is crap. Explosions and teenage prats. Add to that, I don't want to leave the house until I've worked out my plan. I mean fully.'
'Oh yeah?' Angela suddenly seemed to spring to life. 'What plan is this?'
'A plan to avoid that cloud. It's the same one each time, I know it. At first I thought they were different but the top of it is shaped like Stan Laurel's head - it's quite recognisable. It's the same one all right. It's hovering over the house now. It won't follow you when you leave but it will wait for me. I just know it.'
'You can't stay in for ever.'
'I know. Just thinking of new routes and things. So I can dodge it. Lose it down alleys or, I don't know, walk under lots of shelters. My umbrella was stolen by a government dog today. I sat under a tree for lunch, away from those morons, and some dog runs up, snatches it and then carries it back to base. Well trained I'll give them that. Cute dog too, makes it less suspicious. They'll dump it on the step or in the back garden or something like that when they've analysed it. Like they usually do.'
Angela realised he had finally stopped talking and turned to face him.
'Are you sure I can't get you out?'
'Yes I am. It's snowing anyway.'
It wasn't snowing but it might have been. She kissed him goodbye, promising to pop by Thursday, and left. She started descending the steps and noticed she could no longer see the moon. She stared at the sky. It was a cloudy night. She looked back at him through the window and gave him a little smile. Her eyes started to assess the house from the bottom up to the roof. Above it she spotted a large looming cloud, the darkest of the lot. It had a sort of bubbled top that looked like a man wearing a bowler hat. She turned back round and opened the gate. She noticed a grey umbrella lying against his garden wall. She leaned over to pick it up and, as she did, felt snowflakes teasing her face.

.. back ..