The Extraordinary Ectomorph
By sean mcnulty
- 918 reads
At the hearth, Elder ended his thoughtful go-around of the room. He stood by the fire and let the flame give his face a good licking like the welcome of a friendly big dog. He noticed the framed photo of Fatty Arbuckle on the floor again. The blackout must have had something to do with it. No matter. He chose to leave it where it was.
One thing to say about Elder: he wasn’t good with prioritising; or to be more specific, things which a normal person might have prioritised such as picking up an object which had fallen, or getting an ambulance for an injured guest, or calling the police when confronted by a madman, did not rise to the level of priority for him when his mind was abuzz.
Right now, there were a number of things for Elder to contemplate: the future of the Kindred Eye; bogberry products and their potential in the global marketplace; spontaneous psychokinetic interference; computer sex and its outcomes; and the need to draw up a ley map of the whole island identifying key amplification points and alien stops.
His head was all sturm und drang and to and fro and not for the first time. Slammed he was with ideas, to his mind brilliant ideas, and the impulsion to see those ideas parading in reality. As a result his moral arrows floundered in the air and though he would not like to admit it most of his ideas too once somewhat off the ground. He was the schemer of the faltering scheme; that is, he had the schema, never a solid plan, thus had always known great failure in pursuance of his aims. But the intent was there. No-one knew that better than Gerard Higgins who stuck by his old friend to the day, one failed enterprise to the next. One failed marriage. One failed career in politics. One failed book of wisdom.
Elder’s biggest success to date: a soft-erotic now classic about a nurse from Hackney.
Would the Kindred Eye be his 9th Symphony?
Una Hagerty was speaking through him, telling him to get on with the next thing, even if he didn’t quite know what the next thing was supposed to be, and even if whatever it was overpowered the immediate needs of others.
As MacKenna approached him, Elder was reminded of his moral forgetfulness for he could see the archaeologist was unhappy, had perhaps lost his conviction, and may have to be demoted from being his second to perhaps his third or even fourth...or even his fifth – Ismay and Frances and of course the Stewarts were the ones in the house he could say were most serviceably devoted to him.
It’s been eventful, MacKenna said.
Yes, it has.
How long will it take?
What?
The ambulance.
Ah yes, the ambulance...you know, there was no answer.
What do you mean there was no answer?
No-one picked up the damn phone. They’re lazy in that hospital. Another sign of our times.
I don’t get you at all. Look at the poor man. He needs medical treatment.
He’ll be fine. Just a shock. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been electrocuted in this place.
To that extent?
Sure. But the place is not a death trap, I swear to that. Just your average trap.
You’re not providing me with any comfort here.
Well, you have brandy. Don’t we all now.
You know what I mean. And I’m growing more and more concerned about the bog body and the ramifications of keeping him here. Like Sullivan, he needs proper care.
Ah, our extraordinary ectomorph, yes. Aren’t you a fine one talking about proper care, our custodian of history, and you leaving the fragile thing dumped on a bean bag over there...
There was nowhere else. He’s safe for now. I’ll move him to one of the chairs. You had us bring him down.
Sure he’s probably glad to have a lie-down now, I wouldn’t go moving him. MacKenna, good man, let me ask you, as you are now in a shower of doubt and need a towel, you came here in a spiritual slump, completely unsure of yourself, quite the wretch of a man, career-scared, life and love-scared, pathetic I’d hazard to say, I didn’t think you’d last an hour you were so out of your wits with despondency, a stunning mope if ever I saw one, and coming from such a high place socially, education-wise and all, and here you come to us with such a face on you....
And your question?
I forget the question. But what I mean is...we are here now and we have a lot to be dealing with. It is all for the best. What will be what will be as will be as they say.
But what will be?
What will be indeed? It’s the best of all questions because there are so many answers and only one or none are correct.
Like all questions then.
Yes. Just you wait, MacKenna: once the new era is upon us there will be more for all of us. We are on the cusp. We’re at the doors and we’re knocking. And soon they’ll hear us. Our quiet little retreat shall announce itself as much more than the sum of its parts. A sum so rich in its parts it will attract people from everywhere with the desire in their hearts to resolve it. We shall be in the middle of it all. You shall be in the middle of it all. The great change. The coming of the New Man. I can see it. First comes Best Documentary Feature. Then enlightenment. And travel. We shall cross the globe.
MacKenna smiled. I would love to travel, he said.
Yes, we will, said Elder. Maybe. Imagine it. Kindred Eyes in every corner of the world.
Very ambitious. I mean, I knew you wanted it to spread, but I didn’t think you had it in your mind to turn it into something so big.
Yes, yes. Where would you like to go, MacKenna? Eventually you too could head up a Kindred Eye chapter.
There is a very hot and very stupid place in America where I would love to go.
Which place?
I can’t quite remember the name. All I remember is that it’s a very hot and very stupid place.
Right.
They were interrupted by gasps from the sofa. Sullivan had awoken and it was so sudden that Abby and Ismay, still nearest to him, shuddered and stepped back.
The man’s eyes opened wide and unnaturally like a machine activation and slowly he got to his feet in silence. Abby went to help him gain footing but something happened: as her hand tapped his shoulder, she jumped slightly and pulled away as though she had skimmed a nettle bush.
Are you alright there, Sullivan, my man? asked Elder.
Sullivan was able to stand with ease but his eyes stayed slumberous and he didn’t say a word to anybody. He looked thinner and more sickly than ever, physically similar to how he had looked in the months before Elder pulled him out from the drink.
Sullivan breathed in, breathed out. As he’d been taught. Then he held his belly at the sides and his face ballooned as one does before a boke commences. His lips began to turn blue. Then bluer and bluer until they frizzled gently, sparks around the mouth like blinking lights. And when the quivering maw fully opened itself, a lightning bolt in miniature; a sharp and luminous bullet-ray shot out and the floor below him turned into a little burning field of smoke.
Ah, not on the carpet, Sullivan!
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Comments
I love the voice and the
I love the voice and the dialogue and the joke at the end is very funny! This is a most enjoyable read!
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'The schemer of the faltering
'The schemer of the faltering scheme' - brilliant. Along with all the rest. I can always hear you reading these aloud Sean, whenever a new one comes up. And that makes me smile.
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Pick of the Day
Another funny and lyrical peep into the House of Elder - this is our Facebook and Twitter Pick of the Day! Please do share/retweet if you enjoy it too.
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I'm relatively new to this
I'm relatively new to this cast of characters (I think I might have to read some backstory) but I'm finding them charming, larger-than-life, a bit absurd, and quite entertaining. This Elder guy has an engaging voice; and I want to read some more about the bog man.
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Hey Sean, I guess I'll have
Hey Sean, I guess I'll have to go back and figure out where this particular tale starts. Good dialogue, I like how you do that.
GGHades502
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