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Authors: J. F. Monahan
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face. Instead Greebol smiled, that disturbingly wide smile.
“An excellent response,” he said, “I like your attitude King. You are a fighter. A Human who will stop at nothing to get what he wants. Just the type of man I need!”
“Need to do what?” asked Geoffrey, trying to piece these strange events together. He didn’t understand why this man would kidnap both he and Charlie Pinwright. They had nothing in common at all.
“I need you to repair my electrical,” beamed Greebol.
Geoffrey George was gob smacked. “You kidnap me and bring me all this way to fix an electrical appliance?”
“Not an electrical appliance... but my actual electrical,” corrected Greebol.
“I don’t fix things,” snapped Geoffrey, “I own the bloody business! I have dogs-bodies to do that work for me!”
“Now, now Geoffrey,” said Charlie with a sadistic gleam to his voice, “some people might lose their jobs with an attitude like that.”
Geoffrey glared at Charlie. It was a glare that could have cut the hair off a cats back. However, as there was no cat, it instead made Charlie’s knees knock and his heart decide it wanted to remain still for at least a minute.
Greebol looked heartbroken. Every feature on his false face seemed to droop. Charlie had to wonder if there was a problem with his Image-Rendering Mask or if he really was as sad as he appeared.
“So… you cannot fix my electrical?” he asked. There was a troubling sadness to his voice. It cracked and was speckled with hints of sorrow. The type of voice that any real man tried to avoid at all cost for fear of having to comfort a blubbering, tearful mess.
Geoffrey George considered himself a real man. The last time he had to console a crying person, he had been five years old watching Bambi. Gregory George, Geoffrey’s father, had cried for hours. He would continue to randomly break down into tears over the film for the rest of his life. Geoffrey had ended up accusing his father of sexual harassment and had him imprisoned for twelve years as it was the only way to stop him from his emotional outbreaks. Interestingly, since watching that sad family film, Geoffrey had had an obsessive fear of deer.
“Please… don’t cry,” begged Geoffrey as Greebol’s fake eyes began to water, “I do not work well with crying! Please… tell me what it is you want fixing… perhaps I can help you after all!”
Instantly Greebol’s waterworks seized. ‘An act?’ wondered Charlie. If it was then it was an act worthy of an Oscar. Charlie was sure that Greebol would even put on his weeping show when collecting the golden statue. ‘I want to thank my mum and my dad.’ The eyes would blister. ‘I want to thank the people of Earth for inviting a strange alien to their world.’ Sniffling of the nose. ‘And most of all… I want to thank God.’ Full scale breakdown. Plumbers would have to be called.
Greebol slapped Geoffrey George on the back. “Excellent!” he called, “After seeing your amazing television advert I knew you would not let me down! You have such charm about you.” Charlie shook his head. The alien knew how to appeal to a man’s ego.
“I would need to ask what it is you require fixing. What is this electrical you are talking of?” asked Geoffrey.
Greebol opened his arms and spun around slowly on the spot. “You are sitting in it.” On seeing Geoffrey’s confused face, Greebol was forced to continue. “My spaceship ! It is broken and in dire need of repair.”
At this point, the vague sense of reality that Geoffrey George was existing in, knowing that he might be able to fix his way out of this current situation, vanished. It was as though his whole world had come crashing down on his head – and King George had a large world full of fixed microwaves, kettles, televisions and fridge freezers. Enough to flatten a man like
“An excellent response,” he said, “I like your attitude King. You are a fighter. A Human who will stop at nothing to get what he wants. Just the type of man I need!”
“Need to do what?” asked Geoffrey, trying to piece these strange events together. He didn’t understand why this man would kidnap both he and Charlie Pinwright. They had nothing in common at all.
“I need you to repair my electrical,” beamed Greebol.
Geoffrey George was gob smacked. “You kidnap me and bring me all this way to fix an electrical appliance?”
“Not an electrical appliance... but my actual electrical,” corrected Greebol.
“I don’t fix things,” snapped Geoffrey, “I own the bloody business! I have dogs-bodies to do that work for me!”
“Now, now Geoffrey,” said Charlie with a sadistic gleam to his voice, “some people might lose their jobs with an attitude like that.”
Geoffrey glared at Charlie. It was a glare that could have cut the hair off a cats back. However, as there was no cat, it instead made Charlie’s knees knock and his heart decide it wanted to remain still for at least a minute.
Greebol looked heartbroken. Every feature on his false face seemed to droop. Charlie had to wonder if there was a problem with his Image-Rendering Mask or if he really was as sad as he appeared.
“So… you cannot fix my electrical?” he asked. There was a troubling sadness to his voice. It cracked and was speckled with hints of sorrow. The type of voice that any real man tried to avoid at all cost for fear of having to comfort a blubbering, tearful mess.
Geoffrey George considered himself a real man. The last time he had to console a crying person, he had been five years old watching Bambi. Gregory George, Geoffrey’s father, had cried for hours. He would continue to randomly break down into tears over the film for the rest of his life. Geoffrey had ended up accusing his father of sexual harassment and had him imprisoned for twelve years as it was the only way to stop him from his emotional outbreaks. Interestingly, since watching that sad family film, Geoffrey had had an obsessive fear of deer.
“Please… don’t cry,” begged Geoffrey as Greebol’s fake eyes began to water, “I do not work well with crying! Please… tell me what it is you want fixing… perhaps I can help you after all!”
Instantly Greebol’s waterworks seized. ‘An act?’ wondered Charlie. If it was then it was an act worthy of an Oscar. Charlie was sure that Greebol would even put on his weeping show when collecting the golden statue. ‘I want to thank my mum and my dad.’ The eyes would blister. ‘I want to thank the people of Earth for inviting a strange alien to their world.’ Sniffling of the nose. ‘And most of all… I want to thank God.’ Full scale breakdown. Plumbers would have to be called.
Greebol slapped Geoffrey George on the back. “Excellent!” he called, “After seeing your amazing television advert I knew you would not let me down! You have such charm about you.” Charlie shook his head. The alien knew how to appeal to a man’s ego.
“I would need to ask what it is you require fixing. What is this electrical you are talking of?” asked Geoffrey.
Greebol opened his arms and spun around slowly on the spot. “You are sitting in it.” On seeing Geoffrey’s confused face, Greebol was forced to continue. “My spaceship ! It is broken and in dire need of repair.”
At this point, the vague sense of reality that Geoffrey George was existing in, knowing that he might be able to fix his way out of this current situation, vanished. It was as though his whole world had come crashing down on his head – and King George had a large world full of fixed microwaves, kettles, televisions and fridge freezers. Enough to flatten a man like
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