Category: Reuben

Avatar Box lid

Recently I was shuffling some nonsense around and stuffing more boxes into the solitary cupboard at my flat in the hope of creating a little more space.

As I was tearing up some old cardboard I found that a young Reuben had doodled on the inside of one of the smaller boxes.

For those whose eyesight is not as good as it used to be, the top has ‘secret files’ and several incriminating piece of information about walruses. Roy Orbortron (the robotic version of Roy Orbison who was created to carry on his musical legacy) is a walrus for some reason and he has changed the words of the classic song ‘Pretty Woman’ to ‘Pretty Walrus’. This may have been done in the hopes of attracting a mate although nobody can doubt the controversial nature of this switch.

But wait! There’s more!

Roy Orbotron (different spelling) also orbits the planet Venus as a disgusting Transformers-esque robot walrus meaning that he must split his time equally between serenading female walruses with his back catalogue and flying around the second nearest planet to the sun. Thankfully he didn’t choose a planet that was further away otherwise he’d never have enough time between the two feats to organise, I don’t know, a summer holiday. Quite why he is orbiting Venus is not explained in the document.

If you have any clearer answers then do let us know. For now, watch out for any suspicious walruses or walrus-based robots who may or may not be flying through the sky and/or playing the guitar (boy this post is exhausting to write).

Avatar Floor Pasta – a short play

The scene reveals a man, a woman and a teenage boy in the kitchen of a semi-detached house. A television can be heard coming from the living room. Two or three dogs are roaming the kitchen floor looking for scraps.

S: Go on, tell your dad about the floor pasta.
I: The what?
R: It’s because I brought home a packet of spaghetti that I found on the floor. It’s still sealed, it’s not minging or anything.
I: I see. Dubious but still useful I suppose.
R: Oh come on, don’t tell me you wouldn’t because I know you would! It’s free food and it’s perfectly usable.
I: Whereabouts did you find this?
R: When I was walking home from school.
I: A lone packet of spaghetti just lying there on the floor.
R: In the street, yeah. I looked around to see if anyone had dropped it but I was the only one there.

Later that evening. Still in the kitchen.

I: We’re a little concerned about the floor pasta. Are you sure you didn’t steal it? Come on now, if you’re going to risk going to jail for a 50p pack of spaghetti then I think we need to get you to a psychologist.
R: I knew you would do this.
S: If you’re a klepto just own up to it, we won’t judge you.
R: This is nonsense.
I: You have to admit the story sounds a bit too convenient, a bit too farfetched if you ask me.
R: Yes it does but it’s true, well, apart from the bit about finding it on the floor.
I: Come again?
R: I didn’t find it on the floor I found it in a trolley.
I: Here we go.
S: So it wasn’t on the floor, you stole it from a trolley in Sainsburys?
R: The trolley wasn’t in Sainsburys, it was in an alley.
I: This sounds even less believable. Which alley?
R: You know the one that’s equidistant between Sainsburys and Dhillons fish shop?
I: No, surprisingly not. I’m not out measuring equal distances between two places near where you live.
R: It was a trolley there and it was full of pasta.
I: Full of pasta, a trolley full of pasta lying in an alley sort of behind a supermarket, just left there for anyone to take.
R: Yes. I checked and it’s in date, it’s not as if it was out of date goods or anything.
S: So with all that pasta available to take you only took one small packet of spaghetti?
R: Yes! I didn’t want to be greedy.
S: This is sounding less believable the more he says.
I: You’re telling me.
R: Look, I know you don’t believe me and that’s fine. This isn’t the first time it’s happened anyway.

The man and the woman look at each other with the same confused look.

S: So how many times has it happened?
R: <thinks> about nine or ten.
I: So nine or ten times you’ve been walking from school and you’ve come across a shopping trolley filled to the brim with pasta and this is the first time you’ve thought to mention it?
R: Like you would have believed me anyway…

Lights fade.

The End.

Avatar Results Day

Don’t you hate it when things are about other people when really they should be about you?

Almost seventeen years ago I had a child and he got his GCSE results today. That took the focus away from me which never sits well with me. Technically he wouldn’t exist without parts of me so surely I should have been celebrated as well, it should have been my day as well but it wasn’t, it was all about him. So let’s turn back the clock and (try to) remember when I got my GCSE results all the way back in the year of mega panic, Y2K.

In my infinite wisdom I decided that I didn’t want to go to sleep and that I would stay up all night, and THEN go to school to pick up my results. In order to stay awake I drank at least half a dozen coffees to percolate the shizzels into my bloodstream, heavily peppered with a strong dose of sugar to sweeten the blow. This was the first time I had seriously started drinking coffee and I think it is probably the reason why I drink so much of the morning brown now.

Cup after cup I downed not knowing the repercussions to be felt two decades later. “This is a great idea,” I kept thinking, possibly whilst I shakily poured the next hot beverage.

But what would you do for those twelve or so hours, Ian, to keep your mind focused and stop from falling back into the blissful arms of sleep you may ask? I did the obvious thing, of course; I repeatedly listened to the song ‘History’ by the Verve to learn the lyrics. Then when I had reached an acceptable level of word learnery I then tried to learn the lyrics for the rest of the songs of the album ‘A Northern Soul’ because I was so cool and nobody could stop me.

In hindsight, everything about this was a stupid idea.

In the morning, bleary-eyed (not beary-eyed as I first typed) and groggy, I stumbled my way to school to pick up my magical envelope. Refusing to open it there and then I walked down to Tesco (where it was still situated in the old building opposite Barclays Bank) and revealed my results in the frozen food aisle. And there was much rejoicing.

Remembering is fun. That is, unless I’m mis-remembering and this is what I did the night before my A-Level results rather than my GCSEs.

Avatar The Anatomy of the Pig

How many legs does a pig have?

If you answered ‘four’ you are wrong.

How many arms does a pig have?

If you answered ‘none’ you are wrong.

After a recent night of board game fun with my fake adopted family, Reuben took some time out between rounds to draw another of his award-winning designs. The fact that he can crank these out for fun whenever he wants emits equal levels of pride and jealously from my insides. He originally drew the pig with no legs. After a discussion with the rest of the table, it was decided that pigs do not have four legs in total. They have two upper legs and two bottom arms. That is how it is now and will forever continue to be, and anyone who says otherwise does not have the same high level of anatomical knowledge that we do.

Avatar May Review – a review of May

Well, wasn’t that a nice May? It may (huh huh) have passed rather quickly but it’s fair to say that we all had a smashing time regardless. What did we learn?

We learned a lot about automobiles thanks to the super brain of ocular octogenarian Smidge Manly. Chris finally learned that he isn’t actually any relation to Kelly Jones and is in fact somehow part of the wind family. What kind of crazy reunion will he have later on this year? Can I manage to get past this section without a wind-based pun?

Kevin learned that continually not posting on the beans will leave him with a shameful string of dried-up peas. This kind of legacy is not a good legacy for loved ones, and the gif of the Changlet shaking his head in despair will remain at the back of his mind for decades to come.

I did not learn a thing. What I did was set myself umpteen challenges without properly considering the words that were coming out my mouth and through the tiny letters on my phone. It does mean that I have a full list, chocked full of nonsense, to keep me occupied during those warm summer nights.

Reuben learned that being hit with a cricket bat really sodding hurts. Audrey learned not to leave Reuben and I in charge of her flat when she goes on holiday, for fear of returning to pickle-based games with no clear end to them (which she did, for when she went away the second time this month she got her brother to keep an eye on it). At least one of us is learning.

Take a deep breath. By the time you let it out its already be June.

Avatar Beaver Ian

This is Beaver Ian.

It is me re-imagined as a beaver. You can tell that it’s me because it looks like me, albeit with beaver characteristics. I am often caught with a Walter Matthau hang-dog expression on my face and five days out of seven can be seen wearing what resembles a suit, and pretending to be an adult.

This re-imagining was drawn courtesy of Reuben. This is officially the best drawing of me ever and is practically on the same level of dedication and excellence as the drawing my niece did of her dad with penises for hands.

I only wish I looked as good as Beaver Ian.