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Scribe
Join Date: Jul 2006
Location: London
Gender: Female
Posts: 50
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I want a plane
It was under the bench when I first saw the ferret. A little, slithery thing it was. Yet still a ferret. A dirty, smelly, admittedly cute, ferret. I wonder if I should call mum, get her to deal with it. But she’s scared of animals- not much use. My sister… no, she would be with her disgusting boyfriend. I hate him: he picks his nose.
My dad. Yes he will do.
I call my dad.
No reply.
I call him again.
I hear his distinguishing grunt. For a moment I am afraid to call him over. Maybe I should leave it, as the ferret wouldn’t hurt me more than he could.
I tell my dad it is an emergency.
The obese, looming figure squeezes his way from the deck chair, grunting heavily as he stumbles towards me, a Stella Artoirs in one hand and a hosepipe in the other. We don’t have any plants in our, recently done patio, garden to water; and it had just rained too. Oh well.
‘There was a ferret here,’ I tell him.
My dad looks at me; he looks deep into my eyes, trying to make sense of my mixed up brain. He shrugs and walks off.
Great.
My dad doesn’t believe me. Come to think of it, nobody ever believes me.
I think it is my face: it is quite long. People tend to associate a long face with sly characters. I am not one though. Honest.
I am still underneath the damp garden bench, observing the minute world on the floor. The weeny ants scuttle in and out of the murky fissures. I wonder if it just the same ant playing tricks with me. He goes in one crack. And a similar comes out another.
Then one with a broken leg stumbles out another hole, to my left. I guess there must be some kind of monster down there, attacking the poor ants. A harsh world.
The ferret returns. I look at it long and hard. It’s beady eyes look back at me, head cocked, as its fluffed tail brustles over the stone tile. Then the ferret does something I never knew they could to: it talked. It did, I swear. It talked, though I couldn’t understand what it was saying. It was in another language, a series of dooks and squeaks.
It bounded off. I think it wanted me to follow. But I didn’t. Only people with imaginary friends and silly stuff like that would. Besides I have a foot cramp and I can’t move; and the floor is wet and I can’t find my shoes or socks.
I can see it darken outside, only a bit though: I am not afraid of the dark so I stay here. My dad has gone in; my sister will be on a drive in her boyfriend’s manky car; and my mum will be making my dad tea. It is always that way. And only I do the interesting stuff.
When I am older, I want to be a pilot, and fly to exotic countries. Then I will be rich enough to own one of them. My sister’s friend told me.
I wonder where that ferret is. It was silver with white feet, I wonder how it keeps its feet clean: does it lick them like my neighbour’s cat does?
I can hear my mum calling my dad, his dinner is ready. Mine will be in an hour. I know it. I like eating peas and spinach with milk. Altogether. It is nice. Though my mum normally makes us mash, roast chicken, greens, and gravy; it is nice, but not as nice as peas, spinach and milk. Milk comes from cow, it is really natural, food companies don’t add things to it. You can drink it straight from the cow all fresh, though you have to drink it quickly so it doesn’t mould. We used to have three cows; and I liked their milk. But they all died; first one did, then the others followed in mourning.
I hear a car park into our driveway. I hate the sound of the crushing gravel; it sounds like my grandpa getting out of bed.
My sister’s boyfriend calls hello to me, but I don’t answer. I think he is nasty, doesn’t have a nice character. I think my sister deserves better because she is really nice. When I was young she would always play with me even if she was twelve years older than me. When she started work she often bought me presents. Recently I got a game for my game boy advance. It is wicked, you have to find all cats in each world then when you get lots you have to do a special quest to get to the next level. It is really fun- I can spend hours on it; only my dad doesn’t want me.
Someone comes into the garden. Two long legs, as thin as flagpoles and as smooth and shiny as newly polished glass, stop in front of my bench. It is my sister. I can tell by her shoes: she likes wearing red high heels. It looks good with her black business suits. She works in an office, recently promoted, which means she gets more money.
‘Hello, Ben, have you had a good day, honey?’
I nod my head, ‘yes, thank you; have you?’
‘I have thank you, there was a lot of work in the office today, then I went out with Kevin,’ I already knew that ‘Well I have some more work to do, but I left a present in your room, on your desk. Have a look when you are not busy, will you? There’s a good boy, Ben. Kisses, hugs.’
‘Bye bye, Alicia,’ I watch the pillars dance away. See, she is nice. My sister is so thin because of work: she gets very stressed and doesn’t eat; sometimes she even be’s sick. I learnt she is bulimic, which means she feels full and so doesn’t need to eat. I get upset when I hear her be sick. It feels horrible when I am ill and be sick. It burns your throat; but then I have to drink lots of milk, peas and spinach to wash away the horrible taste. She says Kevin helps her be happy, but I still hate him. If I was my sister’s boyfriend I would make sure she is never ill.
Another pair of legs appear, they are just as shiny, but not so thin, normal sized, it is mum.
‘Honey, did you keep an eye on the ferret? Remember last time she crept next door and tried to attack their hamster?’ My mum sighs at me, stroking the clucking ferret in her arms. She is called Pippa, she is mine. My mum continues: ‘and your man-friend will be here in the morning, you are going to the farm, remember?’
Mom thinks I need a doctor. I don’t. I swear. I turn twenty-five in a week.
‘And what do you want for your eleventh birthday, it’s in a week, remember.’ I swear, mum can read my mind sometimes, I hate it when she does that.
‘A plane,’ I tell her, ‘I want a plane’.
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