You, Me and a Bed Makes Three

You, Me and a Bed Makes Three (17)

-A Big Step Forward-

The week had flown past. Nothing overly exciting happened to me. I worked at the café on Tuesday, slept with another random on Tuesday and Wednesday night, and now it's Thursday. I haven't really seen the guys much this week just popped in to Shaun's during the day to take scrappy for a walk or change and what not.

But right now, I was sat in my living room reading a book. It was a book of poems. My parents used to read it to me when I was little to get me to sleep.

Ford would be home soon and for once I was feeling optimistic about seeing him. The girls were right I had been wrong to disappear for the last few months. And now that I know he was asking after me I feel even worse.

I know I saw him last week, but that time I spent with I'm I had fun. Something I haven't experienced with him in a long time. Plus it would be nice to just hang out with him like the good old days. We haven't done that in so long.

Right on que I heard the jingle of keys in the door. I had purposely left my bag and shoes by the front door to indicate I was home.

"Harley?" he called out.

I smiled and shut my book. "In here." I replied.

He walked into the living room. At first he looked concerned. Probably thought there was something wrong. "hey kiddo. What you doing home?" he asked smiling slightly.

"just thought I'd come and see my big bro." I said casually, as though this was a regular thing.

His face lit up, and he smiled his crooked loving smile. The one I had grown up with. "cool. Did you wanna do something?" he asked.

"nah just thought we could chill."

"sounds good. I'll just get washed up." he said gesturing to his dirty uniform.

I nodded my head and picked up my book, opening it on the page I left off from.

I turned the page to The Jabberwocky by Lewis Carroll. The crazy lune that he was. What I wouldn't give to have sat down for tea with him. I wonder if he was like the mad hatter. I mean the characters in his books had to be based on someone. Why not base them on yourself? Or at least add a personality trait of yourself to them.

I remember the first time I read this poem. I wanted to go find my own Jabberwocky and slay it. Of course the only way to kill it would to chop of it's head. As was the way Lewis Carroll wrote of the slaying of his Jabberwocky.

I clambered through a hole, in the fence, in our garden, it backed onto a small wood. I had taken my very own plastic sword. And made my own armour, of cardboard covered in tin foil.

I searched the wood high and low to find my Jabberwocky. But he never appeared. I was only 6 and I had been missing for most of the day. Ford was the one who found me. He had followed a trail of tinfoil, that had ripped of my 'armour' as a scrambled through trees and bushes.

When I told him what I was doing he simple chuckled and told me next time to bring him. When we made it back to our house the police and everything were there. I remember the look on parents faces as I strolled in holding Fords hand. A huge smile on my face.

No I had not slayed my Jabberwocky but I had been on an interesting adventure. And Ford had promised to come with me next time.

The next week Ford had made up a newspaper cutting saying that there had been a sighting of my Jabbberwocky. He told me that we could go look for it when he got back from school.

I was so excited. I redid my armour and made some for Ford. Ford took a bow and arrow and I my trusty sword.

Little did I know that Ford had been making a paper mache Jabberwocky for the past week. We crept though the woods till we came to the spot he had hidden it.