A Rubber Duck.
He told us, "We really must speak further!"
He told us, "I'd love to know more about you!"
He didn't tell us, "Oh, and by the way, I haven't a clue about any of the mug…glue devices I'm going to be asking you about today."
My name is Terry Lynn Granger, the mother of Hermione, the best friend of Ronald Weasley, the son of this mad man. Isn't knowing about us supposed to be his job or something? Oh, I'm sorry; I really should tell you what's going on at the moment, shouldn't I?
"So…the whats go out through the ploogler, and turns on the telebavision?
Or perhaps I shouldn't…perhaps you shouldn't listen to my tale.
Well, if you feel brave enough…
It all started last night. Hermione was invited to shop with the Weasley family in Digony Alleyway…oh! I said that wrong, didn't I? Anyway, she needed to go buy some books and robes for her next year at Hogwarts, and the Weasley family told her she could go with them. Bursting with curiosity, my husband, Mike, and I asked if we could come along. We were welcomed with open arms.
Everything was quite normal…Hermione got her wand checked out by Mr. Ollivander, we looked at owls, she bought at least three books on Transfigur-what do you call it, and a few new quills for school. Oh, perhaps I should slow down a bit, hm?
Hermione is a witch. I really shouldn't be telling you this, but you probably already know, yes? Just listen close and I'm sure everything will be alright. What? No, no I'm not a witch. Neither is Mike. No, he isn't a wizard either - now be quiet and listen!
Mr. Weasley, who insists upon us calling him Arthur, arrived late to our little expedition. Then he saw us…I suppose we must not look at all like magical folk, as he pegged us right away. After a chat with a rather handsome blonde man and a boy who seemed to be his son, Mr. Weasley asked if we would like to get a drink. Thinking nothing of it, we agreed and he took us with him to a small restaurant just outside of Diagonal Alleyway.
That blonde man really was quite good looking.
Except…we couldn't actually see the restaurant. He took us to what looked like a junkyard, and sat us both down on two car tires. There were strangely dressed people all around us, eating imaginary plates of food. Feeling it was important to be polite, I didn't say anything about it. The waiter came, holding what seemed to be an invisible pen.
"Yes…we'll have the Group Cauldron Special," Mr. Weasley…I do mean Arthur…told the waiter. "Oh, and three Chocolate Frogs, please!" he added.
Frogs. Chocolate frogs. This would be an absolutely delicious meal. My husband stared at me after Arthur ordered, begging me with his eyes to get us out of there somehow. I gave him a small glare. Hey, I may be a dentist, but that doesn't mean I'm going to be unkind to those around me!
Quite laughing.
There was quite a long silence after all of this…Arthur and I stared at each other as my husband looked around the junk yard. He seemed entirely uncomfortable. I wasn't uncomfortable…I simply kept thinking about the man in the bookshop. Really, such a good-looking man!
"Is there a washroom here?" Mike finally asked his question. I was quickly taken out of my fantasy as I turned to give him another appropriate glare. He looked back at me smugly, and we each waited to hear Arthur's answer.
"Well, of course," He told us. "Its right through that door - the one with the skirt is for witches, and the one with the pants is for wizards. Oh, and the one with the Hungarian Horntail on the front is for very large emergen-"
"Thanks," Mike scrambled away quickly and ran in the direction in which Arthur had pointed. The only problem was that he couldn't actually see the doors, so he hid behind a dirty old computer desk with a young witch sitting beside it. Arthur stared at him, obviously able to see him.
"Mr. Granger…may I ask why you're hiding under that woman's table?"
My husband got up immediately.
"It's...a table?"
"Of course it is! What else did you - oh! Oh, I'm truly sorry. I forgot that you can't see anything around here…of course!"
Arthur laughed to himself, stood up, and led Mike back to the table.
"Can you make us see it?" He asked.
"I'm afraid not…but I'll give you a hand with your food, don't you worry!"
"Thanks," Mike whispered, and stayed put on his tire. There was much more uncomfortable silence, but I couldn't even try to think about that dashing blonde man…I was too worried that my purse would be stolen by something else I couldn't see. Finally, Arthur broke the silence.
"Well…I can't say I've brought you here just out of the kindness of my heart, I'm afraid."
"Smashing," Mike whispered, annoyed, and I kicked him under the table…which I didn't even know was there. Arthur continued.
"I would like to ask you a few things. You know, about your world." He looked at Mike.
"That's fine," I answered for my spouse.
"Wonderful…now…I'll just start you off easy. Well, easy for you that is. I've wondered about this for so long, and have never had anybody to help me with the problem. You see…I've always wanted to know…precisely what a Rubber Duck was."
My eyebrows lifted…I couldn't straighten them! It's just…to not know what a rubber duck was…simply mad! I mumbled a few things, as if trying to figure out how to describe it to him. He simply sat patiently, watching my husband and I think.
"It's…it's a bath toy."
"I see…and, what exactly is it for? What does it look like, perhaps?"
"It looks like a duck," I told him politely.
"It looks like a duck! How delightful! I had no idea Muggles can use magic also…where did you learn?"
"We didn't…we don't use magic, I mean," Mike began.
"We use machines to make them," I filled in. I saw the blank stare. Oh no!
"Machines?"
"Big boxes - they make things without using magic." Mike smiled proudly.
"Like, with elextrisitur?"
"…"
"Excuse me, I'm sorry, I meant electrositie."
"Yes." My husband won another kick.
"Its electricity," I corrected. Finally, the waiter came back, holding what appeared to be a much larger version of a pen. He waved it around, what ever it was, as if he were a conductor of a band. Arthur thanked him and he left, smiling. I looked down at what was supposed to be the table, but was really just blank air.
"Your fork is beside your right hands," Arthur told us, and we both felt around for it. Finally, I found mine, and stabbed it in front of me, hoping to catch some sort of edible substance. It sunk in with difficulty.
"Oh, don't do that!" Arthur yelled, pulling it from my grasp. "You just stabbed your desert…they don't like that!"
"What don't like that?" I asked.
"The Chocolate Frogs!"
"You mean," my husband asked, "There's a frog in there?"
"Well, not a real one," Arthur told us. "Now, continue…what exactly is the Rubber Duck made of?"
"It's made of rubber," Mike told him matter-of-factly, feeling around his own plate for something to eat. He grasped his hand around a cylinder of some sort and put it to his mouth, rolling his eyes when he found it to be nothing but ice-water.
"Rubber?" Arthur looked worried. "What is rubber?"
My husband snorted a bit, some water dripping from the edge of his lips. He placed down his glass.
"Rubber?"
"Well yes…what is that?"
"It's…rubber…" Mike muttered. How could he explain rubber to this man? Suddenly, I remembered something, and started fooling around in my purse.
"I should have some…dear, where do I usually keep Hermione's old braces?" My husband watched me for a moment. I leaned down to the floor to get a good look at my purse. Without warning he dove under the table himself.
"I'm just going to help her find it," He yelled up to Arthur, who I can only assume smiled brightly.
"They're mad…" Mike whispered to me.
"Now, Mike, it's not kind to generalize."
"Alright then…he's mad!"
"Mike, be polite!" I hissed. Suddenly, I heard Arthur say something from above, and my heart leaped. What if he had heard us? Suddenly, the plastic bag containing Hermione's braces flew out of my purse, nearly hitting me on the way. Two much smaller item also flew by. My husband and I each returned to our seats. Both items were in Arthur's hand.
"Perhaps that made it easier, yes?" We nodded. I took the braces from his hand and pulled them out of their back. I then showed him the pink and blue items on the braces.
"This is rubber." He stared interested. Then he opened his hand to reveal the other two items…a rubber band, and…oh goodness! Not one of those!
"That's a rubber band…and that…well, it's…"
"It's a puppet!" My husband chimed in, taking the small object and stretching it over his finger. "You draw faces on it…and you have a finger puppet!" He put it in his pocket quickly.
"By goodness, it really does stretch quite a bit, doesn't it!" Arthur proclaimed happily. The smirk on my husbands face earned him another kick under the table. Arthur stared at us expectantly.
"Well…continue! What exactly does a rubber duck do?"
"Hm?" I asked, not quite understanding the question.
"What I mean is, what is it used for?"
I remained silent for a moment.
"Well…it's a toy. It makes a squeaking noise when you squeeze it."
"A duck…that squeaks?"
"Well…they couldn't make it do a real duck sound."
"Not even with eclectriciter?" My husband attempted to not laugh.
"Well…it doesn't use any."
"But I thought you said that machines made it! They use ecelectericity!"
"No, they don't…I mean they do…but there's none inside of the rubber duck!" at this point my husband and I were also getting confused. There was absolute silence under Arthur hung his head down shamefully.
"I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have asked anything."
"No, its fine-" I began to tell him.
"No…I kept asking you about the Rubber Duck, keeping you from your food, when it's quite apparent that you have no idea what it is either!"
My husband turned red.
"We do know what a Rubber Duck is, I assure you!"
"No…there's no need to lie to me! I'll just leave, I'm sorry." He got up and began to leave. I jumped up and caught him, nearly tripping over another chair on the way.
"Please stick around…we…we enjoy your company! Please, let's finish our meal together!"
Reluctantly Arthur sat back down.
Now I'm here…and the meal is finally finished. It only took a few hours after I had found my runaway Chocolate Frog. Now we're going home…my husband is shaking hands with Arthur, who politely put on my coat for me. As we left, and parted, I said to my husband:
"You know, you'd look quite good as a blonde."
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Arthur Weasley got home quite late that night, greeted with contempt by Molly Weasley. She sat him down at the table.
"Would you like something to eat, dear?"
"No thanks…perhaps just some water. I just ate, don't you remember?"
"Yes, Arthur. What did you and Hermione's parents talk about?"
"Oh, nothing really. Nice folk, they are, very nice." He let out a small smile.
"Oh, Arthur, you didn't, did you?"
"Now, Molly, relax."
"But Arthur, it isn't polite!"
"Molly-"
"Arthur, you at least shouldn't lie! You know exactly what a Rubber Duck is!"
"Yes, but Molly, where else am I going to get my kicks? The Police Station?"
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It feels so wonderful to get to write a humour fiction again…I've been on angst mode for what seems like forever. Now, there's a pretty little button at the bottom of the screen…and I'm a sucker for reviews!