Wednesday, September 17, 2008
Somebody had a bad head this morning. I won’t say who, but he’s acting like I was taking his teddies away and replacing them with other, very slightly different teddies. I haven’t, obviously*, but he has that out-of-phase-with-reality head on.**
I won’t, therefore, mention who drank a whole pint of absinthe in the mistaken belief that it was a new, aniseed version of cola. I also won’t say who moved from doing the Charleston to waltzing around the room with Gillian to a tune by Nine Inch Nails.
I would have let him sleep it off but for my inherent nature. Why shouldn’t he suffer? It was me that had to calm down the rest of the patrons and staff after he inadvertently blessed the bar and turned all the alcohol into water. That’s the trouble with demonic blessings – the Other Side got the water-to-alcohol gifts; we got the opposite.
Otherwise the morning went well. Harold stayed at the manor and Julie and I opened the shop. That gave me some much-needed peace and quiet in which to research the transfer of ownership of St Marples.
*Not today anyway. The last time I did this Harold was certain something was wrong, just didn’t have a clue what it was. In fact I’d taken all his soft toys and replaced them with mirror images of themselves. Try it – it’s far more disturbing than it sounds.
Incidentally, this is a good way to train kids into having cognitive dissociation disorder. Adults, too, but it takes longer and you have to replace actual people.
** Not that Harold could actually swap heads. He’s no Worzel Gummidge. ***
*** I mean, I wish he could change heads. If only I could replace the one he’s got with, say, a pumpkin he’d be better off overnight.****