Boing.
My ears twitched in annoyance at the springing fool in front of me. Up and down he bounced, grinning inanely and clapping his hands over his head. Clearly, having massive coiled springs attached to his feet had driven off his sanity.
“Woooooooooo” he cried. “Look at meeeeeeee!”
“Yes.” I said. “You’re bouncing. Well done.”
He continued to leap and bounce, happily springing up and down, up and down.
“Can you stop that please?”
A brief frown flickered across the imbecile’s face. “You know, I’m not sure I can,” he said. “But – Weeeeeeeeee! Why would I ever want to!”
My neck was growing painful from the effort of trying to maintain eye-contact with the oscillating buffoon.
“Would you like me to help you to stop,” I offered.
“Never, sir!” he cried. “Now that I have uncovered the arcane mysteries of bouncing, I shall continue to bounce until I draw my last breath, and even then I shall bounce my way past Saint Peter at the gates of Heaven.”
I considered this horrifying vision. A world where my sole companion was a gibbering, leaping, idiot. An afterlife populated by vertically catapulting fruitcakes.
I examined his face as closely as I could, given the incredible rate of change applied to its positioning relative to mine. Idiot or not, the look of joy on his face was unmistakable. And who am I to interfere in the joy of another.
“Very well,” I said. “By all means, enjoy your bouncing. But I ask you as a lifelong friend – would you consider doing it in someone else’s soup?”
March 26, 2009 at 9:20 am
Your lunchtime Jackanory episodes are sure to get you sectioned