Bahkti and The Finching Machine

February 7th, 2010 by admin

‘Eep’ it went. ‘Eep Eep’ again.

‘What on earth is making that noise Keith thought?

‘Eeeeeeeeeep’ it went again. This time just a teensy little bit louder and longer.

Keith looked down at the pavement and there was a little bird up to it’s beak in snow in the gutter. It had been snowing all night long.

The little bird was now looking intently at him and eeping away incessantly and loudly.

‘Ee-eep, Peep, eep eep eep’ it said.

‘Oh my God, it’s talking to ME’. He thought.

‘I don’t understand you little one’ he said back as if it could actually understand or reply.

‘Help me Keith’ it said.

‘Pardon’ came Keith’s shocked response.

‘Oh for God’s sake, will you help me. I’ve been here for a whole morning and no-one has fed me and I’m starving and up to my beak in snow’.

Keith was rooted to the spot with incredulity.

‘EEEEEEEP’ it shouted. ‘Are you going to help me or not’?

‘Er, ok’ came Keith’s hesitant reply. (Well it’s not everyday little finches talk to humans now is it?)

‘What is wrong with you’? it said as it tried to hobble or hop its way throught the snowy gutter. ‘Why won’t you help your partner’?

‘Partner’? said Keith.

‘Yes, partner’ came the reply. ‘It really is me’. said Bahkti. ‘I’ve been ‘Finched’. He said.

‘Finched’? asked Keith.

(‘Oh God, this is going to take a long time’ thought Finch/Bahkti, with increasing annoyance)

‘Yes’, he snapped back. ‘Why do you think I look like this and am not at home as a human then’?

‘I wondered why you weren’t there this morning and thought you had gone to work or gone shopping and weren’t answering your mobile phone’!

‘I got up to go to the market and was walking through the market square to go to the bank machine and WHOOMP!

‘Whoomp’? said Keith.

‘Yes, Whoomp. It went dark and there was suddenly a whirring and a clicking and a whoomping and a boing and whallop and I was in the light again and I was a little bird’ said Finch/Bahkti.

‘What did it’? asked Keith, still in shock from talking to a bird (in English) with a hobble.

‘A Finching Machine’. snapped Finch/Bahkti.

‘A Finching Machine? enquired Keith hesitantly but trying to sound as it were a normal everyday occurence.

‘Yes, a Finching Machine. They are cat like in hunting their prey and they sneek up on things or people and leap on top of them from a great height and encompass them inside it and turn whatever they’ve jumped on, into a Finch’. (but keeping the thing’s redeeming features ie: a Mohican hair cut or a hearing aid, or a zimmer frame or curlers etc) Finch/Bahkti said.

‘You call a hearing aid or a mohican, a redeeming feature’? Keith enquired with a most puzzled tone.

‘Don’t start with me, just bloody feed me will you and we’ll talk about the finer details later’ Finch/Bahkti snapped back.

‘I’ll buy you a lard ball stuffed with seeds. How does that sound’? Keith offered sarcastically.

‘OO, a lard ball. I can’t remember the last time I had a lard ball. Nobody has ever bought me anything nice like a lard ball before’. said Finch/Bahkti. (as if it were the most normal thing in the world, never mind he was a bird and talking English). ‘OO, a lard ball, how divine’ he said.

‘Ok, come home with me and we’ll get you warm and I’ll pop out to the pet shop for lunch’.

So up hopped little Finch/Bahkti into Keith’s warm gloved hand and off they went home to get warm.

Don’t Be Fooled By The Timblids

August 2nd, 2009 by admin

‘Did you know that my mum had to be rushed to hospital in 1989?’ Keith suddenly came out with.

‘Oo, what for darling?’

‘Her hand was slashed right open by a timblid’ he replied as a matter of fact.

‘How did it do it?’ I gasped in a shocked way.

It?’ said Keith in a cautious but quizzical way.

‘Yes! It!’

‘I think she was cooking and….’

‘It went for her’!! I volunteered.

‘What went for her?’

‘The Timblid’!

‘The what?’ Keith said.

‘The timblid’ came my nervous reply.

‘A timblid?’

‘Yes, a timblid’. ‘ Vicious little things, suddenly attacking people all unexpectedly’. Leaping out from cutlery drawers and medicine cabinets when you least suspect them’. I volunteered again.

Keith simply couldn’t understand what on earth I was telling him. Why should he? He’d never seen the nasty thing that did so much damage to his mother’s hand.

‘What on Earth are you going on about? he blurted out.

‘The timblid that attacked your mum and cut her hand. She’s lucky you know, it could have killed her in one quick shwoosh’.

‘NO! I said a Tin Lid, NOT a timblid‘. I think he was exasperated by this time.

‘Oh’ came my short reply. ‘I thought you said a timblid’.

‘Why would my mother by attacked by a timblid?’

‘Because they’re like that’.

‘Timblids’ he said.

‘Yes, vicious killers that hide in cutlery drawers and medicine cabinets and leap out of them when you least suspect them and that ride equities in to battle the way that men use horses in battle’.

‘I see’ said Keith, alll the while frowning in a what is he talking about kind of way crossed with this is going to be a long day sort of a way.

The day had just begun for Bahkti and Keith and one was going to have a longer day than the other it seemed.

The Singing Moo-Moo

May 22nd, 2009 by admin

Yet another day, another strange event.

Here we were Keith and I walking down Hollow Lane, when we heard a very peculiar rustling behind us. We stopped, looking around behind us to see a big ‘thing’ wrapped in what appeared to be christmas paper.

‘What is it keith’?

‘How should I know’?. ‘I have no idea’!  came the response I wished that I hadn’t heard.  (Well, it was disconcerting to have someone tell you that they didn’t know that the large thing was that had been creeping along in a paper rustling, crunching sort of way behind you)

It looked vaguely like a cow.  We had a look at it closely and proded and poked it but that made it worse, as it made a weird sniffling ‘Ooo’ sound. Then with a very loud ‘OOooo’ sound it leapt in to life and started doing the strangest thing. It started singing and doing dressage. We leaped back in surprise, horror and giggles all at once. Could you imagine in your wildest dreams that a cow wrapped in christmas paper was following along behind you singing and doing dressage. (We simultaneously realised that it had been ‘Moo’ and not ‘OOooo’)

This day had certainly had taken an odd turn since leaving the house.

We started to run but that only seemed to either infuriate this singing moo-moo (well that’s what these things are called after all) or egg it on. In all of this flurry of prescribed moves (or should that be Mooves?) the christmas paper fell away to reveal the thing in its full glory.  We could only assume that the thing had been wrapped as a present for us. But the dressage was its very own idea to impress us with its agility and suppleness. (it did not impress us, more terrified, perplexed us) But what did really impress us was its singing voice. Have you ever heard a moo-moo sing opera? It was glorious.

And then it sank in! Oh God, we have yet another animal to go in to ‘The End of The World Garage’ along with the rest of the menagerie that had seemed to want us to look after them.

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