Weirdlings

Duncan's day had been going well so far. He'd popped down to the shed and fired up his trainset. This little ceremony involved Duncan doning a real traindrivers hat but stopped short of him putting shoe polish on his face in order to looking like an autheentic steam locomotive driver.
Duncan had tried this once and had been having such a whale of a time that when his wife Sandra cheerily popped her head round the shed door, breaking into his dream world of being a miniture steam engine driver, and asked him if he wouldn't mind popping to the shops. She was a bit short of certain vital ingredients for the kids tea and had hoped that Duncan might be nice enough to take a stroll and help her out.
Which he was. But he'd gone out forgetting about the shoe polish and hadn't really been noticing the strange looks he'd been getting, engrossed as he was is his Train Collector's monthly magazine as he walked the short distance to the shop. Duncan's happiness/ignorance was broken by a firm tap on the shoulder and upon turning round had come face to face with a police officer looking at him with a mixture of authoritarian strictness, bemusement and the desire not to laugh uncontrollably when he knew he was having to be serious.
"Alright sonny Jim." had been his opening gambit. Duncan stood looking mysstified, he didn't remember doing anything wrong. He started panicing, maybe he'd not paid for a parking ticket or something. It was just like Duncan's asabsent mind to forget to remind him of something like that. But then Duncan remembered he hadn't driven in three years and if the ticket was that old he was surely in too much trouble for a mere "Alright Sonny Jim." however sternly it had been submitted. Maybe it was about library books he had used the library and indeed had some books that were due back this week but Duncan was sure he was good for at least two days.
He gaped at the policeman with a trembling deference while he waited to find out if his was going to be dragged off to jail.
"What are you a Black & White Minstrel?"
"Sorry."
The police officer pointed a chubby index finger at Duncan's face and at that second Duncan remembered his boot blacked face.
The next fifteen minutes had been a nervous wait while Duncan explained that it was merely a part of his costume for his miniture train sdriving fantasies and in no way some sort of retro racist assault.
Duncan had even gone to panic station ten and even invited the burly police officer to his shed to see his trainset. He didn't like untrained people touching his beloved trains and definately not operating them but Duncan was desperate enough not to spend time in the Chokey as his Dad used to call it whenever he shouted at Duncan when he was being naughty or too noisy. But the officer had declined his invite reminding Duncan that police officer have very important things to do and they generally didn't have time to go off looking at trainsets when rapes and murders and bank robberies might be happening. (He was late for his tea break) But he did make Duncan promise to be more careful with his shoe polish in the future. Ending there little interrogation with the lines. "This isn't the 1950's you know?"
And that's why Duncan didn't even use the shoe polish anymore. But enough of this little story within a story.
Duncan's day had been going well so far. Like I already said he'd opened up his beloved railwayline for the tiny plastic figures of his little locomotive world and had then gone and fed his tropical fish. He liked to do this after playing with his trains because the excitement of the trains was tempered by the tranquil nature of the fish and their serene voyage round and round their tank and through the little castle.
His next plan was to go and rearrange his spare tool kit which he'd had out yesterday to put up some shelves for Sandra and which hadn't gone so well. In fact Sandra had took the drill and the screws and the shelving and done the thing herself banishing him off down the garden to his trains and from out of her way.
Duncan had struggled for more than half an hour with the bloody shelves and when Sandra had knocked up ten minutes later with a peace offering in the form of tea and biscuits Duncan had wondered what was wrong but it turned out that Sandra was done. The shelves were up, spirit levelled off and all.
Duncan wasn't happy about this attack on his masculinty. Sandra had proved his manliness to be essentially redundant and if she woke up one day and realised Duncan's increasing irrelevance in the scheme of the house then he might be consigned to the shed permanantly. Which secretly he quite liked the idea of. He was never happier than with his trains and regularly dreamt that he was tiny enough to ride the miniture railway himself. Going round and round the tiny plastic world as giddy as a spring lamb.
But much to Duncan's chargrin where Sandra was adept to the point of being professional at DIY related matters she was inversely terrible at putting things back in their right place and tidyily. And when Duncan found his spare tool kit he stood open mouthed, there wasn't a tool or screw or nail or washer or anything in it's right place.
So higgledy-piggledy was the tool case that Duncan decided it was a job that needed proper attention and after going off to deliver a stern lecture on the value of toolkit neatness to Sandra the night before had become a little too tired to start rearranging the tools and left it until this morning, but even that had left him slightly on edge.
He couldn't sleep properly with the tool kit all out of shape like that.
What if there was an emergency that required some drilling or hammering or screwing in the middle of the night.
He'd be all over the place. No doubt Sandra would cope even with the tool kit in the mess that it was.
But what if Sandra couldn't be persuaded to wake up and deal with the emergency. It had caused much tossing and turning throughout the night.
But that was then and the night had passed without a tool requiring emergency and now was now and the bedraggled tool kit waited patiently to be tidyied in a way only an inanimate object can.
He started by taking all of the tools out of the box. And then the screws. And then the nails. And so on, lying them all down in neat piles according their function.
He then proceded ro rank them in terms of size and shape. This would make it easier to compartmentalise them later for their return to their home in the box.
This was all going very well and Duncan was firmly in the swim of his task, he was focussed and precise about where he wanted each tool item or accessory to be.
This was right about the same time he heard a thump or a bang maybe from the attic. This was unusual, Duncan and Sandra only used the attic for storage. There was boxes of old clothes, travel luggage, a big wooden wardrobe that the pair had sort of stolen on the death of one of Sandra's great aunts and then found it too cumbersome and oversized to be of any practical use and had had a pig of a time getting it up through the hatch, so much so that Duncan doubted whether it was ever coming out again. Plus there was an assortment of no longer used kids toys, books, records, an old record player, some photo albums and a full sized Human skeleton that Sandra had got when she was a student at university. The skeleton was wearing a bowler hat and a scarf. As if he was dressed to go into work in the city ands it was autumn.
But there shouldn't have been anything up there moving about and thumping and what not.
Maybe Duncan had just imagined it, maybe he'd been so engrossed in his tool kit rearrangment that he'd made up weird noises in his head. He went back to the task at hand. But less than a minute later there was an even louder thump followed by another one. This was followed by something rolling across the attic floor and another thud as it no doubt came to a stop but a natural feature of the attic, I.E. a wall/roof post.
"Sandra, i think we've got bats or mice in the attic."
There was no response.
"Sandra."
"Sandra."
Obviously Sandra was out.
"Damn."
Duncan went in search of a torch and stealed himself to investigate the attic pest problem. On locating a torch and a step ladder he climbed up to the hatch, nudged it opened, turned the torch on and shone it around the cobwebby, shadowy attic.
He couldn't see any sign of an feathered/squeaky intruder. He moved the point of the torch light in an arc, like he was in the guard turret of a POW camp. He'd make a better one than the one you always see in the movies completely missing the figure trying to not be spotted by the mere act of standing very still. Steve Mcqueen would never have gotten out if he'd been on a guard turret.
He looked left, he looked right. No bats, no birds, no mice, no rats, no squirrelt and definately no elephant in the room. He was all set to leave and make himself a refreshing cup of tea when he spotted something in the gloomy, torchlit attic.
It was sat behind a box and it was starring right at him and it wasn't a bat. Duncan thoguth this was good. Duncan hated bats.
The Thing blinked in the glare of the torch light. Obviously startled by the light, Duncan had no clue how long it had been here or how it had even got here but Duncan's logic told him maybe it was a while and seeing as the attic was mostly dark the torch light maybe a shocking thing to this little fella.
The "Little Fella" was still starring at Duncan and this helped Duncan to make out some of it's features. It was about the sized of a medium sized dog sitting up. It had very round eyes and two ears that stuck out of the side of his head on stalks. they stalks seemed to be quivering, maybe the thing was a bit scared thought Duncan. He turned the torch off which he realised he'd been shining in the poor little creatures eyes and pulled the cord switch to the turn the main attic light on to bathe the seen in a more general glow. He creature had a sort of grey/pink complextion and seemed to be oozing a kind of moistness. It was still starring at Duncan and Duncan thought maybe he should investigate further so tried a couple of nervous steps towards the boxes that the creature was sheltering in. The thing cowered away, obviously very nervous. Duncan tried to calm it by make what he thought was reassuring noises but this merely started the little thing off trembling, like a dog having a poo.
Duncan tried to approach again, slowly, slowly slowly. "No sudden movements." thought Duncan. At which point Duncan stumbled on some random thing on the floor and careered head long into the pile of boxes. Even as Duncan was heading into the boxes at speed he heard a squawk of panic, this was married to a blur as the creature bolted away from the collapsing Duncan. Duncan hit the boxes like they were skittles and he was a huge, misshappen bowling ball.
When Duncan picked himself up out of the rubble of smashed up boxes he looked about for the creature who'd headed to one of the cross rafters and was looking at Duncan like a shaven hawk, with sticky out ears and no beak and a beer gut. That's odd thought Duncan. "We're going to have to get you in shape little buddy."
The thing seemed a little less nervous now that it had the higher ground and Duncan had revealed himself to be nothing more dangerous than a clumsy oaf.
Duncan shook the attic dirt from his trousers and pullover and looked up at the creature who by know had gotten used to Duncan's presence a little bit and was more regarding him than trembling with sweaty fear at him. It had it's weirdly featured head tilted to one side, trying to make out what this thing was that had shone a light into it's world and then crashed about like an ox in a China factory.
Duncan stood up and moved slowly but surely towards the creature in the beams of the attic.
The creature didn't shy away.
Duncan moved a little closer and poked a timid finger towards the thing.
The thing looked at the finger, then as it got closer, sniffed it.
As if trying to decide whether it might bite or be poisonus or if it was pleasantly chewable.
The thing gurgled. The noise was a cross between a burpy baby and a stone plopping into a pond. Which is a slightly strange combination but not an unpleasant noise thought Duncan.
The Thing stopped his nasal investigation of the finger and sort of somersaulted/swung itself off the beam and onto the attic floor it held out a hand to Duncan as if wanting to show him something. It pleased Duncan how quickly he'd gained the trust of the "Little Fella", took it's moist palm in his and allowed himself to be guided by the creature to where it wanted Duncan to go.
The Thing moved to the stack of boxes that he'd first been hiding behind and which now had a Duncan shaped hole in them from wheer Duncan had fell down. The creature picked his way around the distraught boxes and pointed at the back wall, which was the darkest point of the attic and therefore to the creature the safest hideaway no doubt.
Duncan was in for a little surprise, I guess it was the day for them, he discovered a creature the same as Duncan's new little friend only slightly smaller and with slightly moonier eyes and in a sort impromptue crib/nest was five almost identical miniture versions of the "Little Fella."
The "Little Fella." had a new family. He was a Daddy, the same as Duncan. Only more so.
Duncan decided the best thing to do was to try to make the Things comfortable and see if they needed feeding. He very carefully guided them down from the attic, with the new Dad and Mum carrying their brood ever so carefully he set them up a little homestead in the small bedroom. He gave them some milk, which they liked but made them burp, he gave them a bit of apple that he cut into segments which the two adults ate but the babies didn't seem too fussed with and he broke up a cookie into crumbs and the went nuts for that. So cookies and milk then. Weird. That's what I'll call them "Weirdlings."
When Sandra returned from the shops she was at first adamant that they contact some kind of authority on these things but after Duncan patiently pointed out that that would be fine by him as long as Sandra didn't mind the house being sealed off by angry men, in bio-hazard suits and put on the news then go head.
"You can ring whoever you like. I won't stop you. Or You can just accept we now have Weirdling Babies."
Sandra had to admit that Duncan had a good point and had played his arguement card very well. The Weirdling babies stayed and became a much loved addition to Chez Duncan e Sandra.