Bill and the UFO19

‘What was that?’ Wendy turned in her sleeping bag and looked into the darkness.

Rab had wrapped his sleeping bag around his head so that he was cloth eared and Wendy had to sit up and dig him in the ribs and repeat herself.

‘What was that?’

Rab huffed and puffed, letting her know that he was suffering from the bends of sleep deprivation. He pulled at his nylon brown sleeping bag, farted, and shaped his body away from her so that he could top up on the oxygen of adolescent dreams.

‘Nice.’ Wendy was used to his foul moods. ‘I thought I heard someone panting.’ Now that she knew he was awake, but kiddin’ on he was asleep, she used an ordinary conversational tone.

Rab rolled over and in one last attempt tried to squeeze under the flaps of the tent, to hide himself away from the whole of humanity, or at least the Wendy shaped part of it, but it was no good. The zipper came undone and the cheap yellow insulation of his sleeping bag drooped down like a buttercup in the rain as he sat up and scowled.

‘What was it last night? You thought you seen something.’ Rab’s voice rose an octave, ‘and what was it: fuckin’ nothin’. His voice went up another octave, ‘ and the night before that…’ he mimicked Wendy’s voice, ‘Rab! Rab!’

‘Ssssh. What was that?’ Wendy’s head was cocked; her mouth hanging open as she listened.

‘Nothing,’ said Rab emphatically, but the hairs on the back of his neck stood up.

A black shape bounded into the tent, bundling him over. ‘Help. Help, he shrieked. ‘What is it? Get it off me’.

‘It’s that fuckin’ stupid dog.’ Wendy’s voice was as flat as her chest.

Rab pushed Todger’s muzzle away, but the dog took that as an invitation to try and lick Wendy’s face.

‘Fuck off and die.’ Wendy pushed Todger away from her.

Bill knelt at the entrance to the tent and scratched the canvas material as if he was knocking. ‘Can I come in?’ It had been raining and his black Crombie hung on him like a damp shadow.

‘No you cannae,’ said Wendy and Rab in a rare show of unity together, but he was already in kneeling at their feet.

‘You’ll never guess what I saw?’ There was excitement in Bill’s voice.

‘Does it begin with bawbag?’ asked Wendy.

‘Nah, you’ll never believe me.’

‘Well fuck off and find someone that will.’ Rab lay back down in his sleeping bag.

‘I never believe anything you say anyway.’ Wendy flounced down lying beside Rab in her sleeping bag, closing her eyes and adjusting her breathing so that she sounded as if she was going to drop off, but she spoiled that effect by adding ‘and fuck off and take your mingin’ dog with you.’

‘That’s alright then.’ Bill sniffed and tried not to sound hurt. ‘C’mon Todger. We know when we’re no’ wanted. They’ll probably no’ want to see the photo anyway.’

‘Are you goin’ to shut the fuck up?’ Wendy snuggled down into her sleeping bag.

‘What photo?’ Rab sat up.

‘Nah. We know when we’re not wanted. C’mon Todger.’ The dog crawled over like a crab to sit its head on Bill’s lap.

Rab slapped Bill, a skimmer, on the side of the head to show who was boss. ‘What photo?’

‘Nah, they made me solemnly promise never to tell anyone.’

‘Well don’t.’ There was no longer any bite in Wendy’s words.

Rab slapped Bill on the side of the head again.

‘It’s been a long night. Maybe if I had a wee fag,’ said Bill, ‘that might help me remember’.

‘Jesus.’ Rab rooted about in his jeans and in his Wrangler jacket and went through the same process again to find matches.

‘What’s your big secret then?’ Wendy was wide-awake and a whisper away from strangling Bill.

‘See those UFOs in the Old Kilpatrick Hills.’

‘Nah, I’ve never seen them.’ Wendy had a few loose fags sitting in her shirt pockets like pens. Her hands found the matches and she too lit up.

‘Well I have.’

‘And they told you not to tell anyone.’ Wendy sneered.

‘Well there’s two of you.’ Bill dabbed at them with the lit end of his cigarette. ‘And besides,’ he added, ‘you’re not anybody.’

‘Fuck off,’ said Rab. ‘So you’re telling us you saw a UFO and they told you not to tell anybody?’

‘That’s right.’ Bill was enjoying himself.

‘So why did they tell you not to tell anybody?’ Wendy couldn’t resist asking the obvious question.

‘Because,’ Bill puffed contently on his fag, ‘because they aren’t really aliens.’

‘I fuckin’ knew it,’ said Rab, ‘it’s the government.’

‘Nah,’ said Bill, shaking his head in derision. ‘It’s no’ the kind of government you're thinking of.’

‘Who is it then smart guy?’ Wendy kicked at him, but with her feet muffled in the sleeping bag she couldn’t hurt him.

‘It’s angels, disguising themselves as aliens, so they can go about their work.’

‘There’s no angels in Faifley,’ said Rab.

‘Exactly,’ said Bill, ‘it’s a double-bluff. They said it’s a myth that they live in a mythical state. They’re just flesh and blood like…’ He looked at Wendy and stopped speaking.

‘You talk some amount of shite,’ said Wendy.

‘Well. I’ve got a picture of them.’ Bill searched in his bag for the camera.

‘They let you take a picture?’ Rab shook his head in amazement.

‘You don’t get to be an angel if you’re a bad guy.’ Bill’s hand’s trawled through his rucksack. ‘A cannae find my camera. Have you got my camera?’

‘Fuck-off,’ Rab said.

‘I don’t even think you had a camera,’ Wendy smaned. ‘I think I’ve got a big green crayon here.’ Her hands patted around her side of the tent as if searching. ‘You can do a drawing and we’ll pin it up on the side of the tent for you, just like Pin the Donkey.’

Bill peered into his rucksack, but there was little light and he couldn’t make anything out. He knelt almost in prayer. Wendy’s muffled feet tried to kick out at him, ‘Hee-haw. Hee-haw,’ she screamed, and he jerked backwards falling onto his bunched up coat. Quickly, he rifled though its pockets.

‘The photo is here. It’s here.’ Bill held the camera up into the fetid air of the tent in triumph.