Spaced – Wired for sound (and vision).
Chapter two : The morning after the night before.
Brian was feeling artistically productive this morning. He looked at the broom that he'd borrowed from Tim the day before. An idea formulated slowly in his head. He jumped out of bed, spreading the (mostly) white bed sheet on the floor and grabbed the broom. Kicking over a tin of paint, he dipped the broom in the red paint that spilled out over the floorboards. Then he stood poised, holding the broom like a harpoon ready to spike a whale.
Tim looked to his left and found the friendly face of Mike smiling back at him. Mike's face had the customary black boot polish stripes he always wore when they went paintballing. Tim felt the weight of the pistol in his hand. He scanned the woods for their enemy, his eyes half closing against the bright sunlight streaming through the trees high above him. He picked up some movement to his left and pointed. Mike nodded and they crept out of the bush they were hiding in.
Mike took the right flank and Tim crept round to the left. He could see their target now, cowering behind a tree. Tim and Mike stood up and advanced. Their prey could not get away now.
"Show yourself!" Tim shouted, raising his paint ball gun so he could use the sights to aim.
The figure slowly stood behind the tree and turned around to face Tim and his friend.
"Issa meesa gonna die?" he said, shaking.
"End of the line, Jar Jar." Tim said. He flipped the safety catch on his gun to 'off' and then realised the paintball gun had changed. He was now holding an Uzi 9mm semi-automatic pistol, one of Mike's top-ten favourite weapons. He looked over at Mike.
"Present from me." Mike smiled back.
Tim pointed the Uzi at Jar Jar's head, the barrel just inches from his forehead. "This is for spoiling a Star Wars film." He said through gritted teeth as his finger gently squeezed the trigger.
BANG!
Tim woke with a start. What was that noise? He opened his eyes to find himself stretched out on his sofa. The only light in the room was coming from a huge TV set in the corner. He lifted his hand to his face to rub his eyes and a shooting pain went through his back. He found he could hardly move, stiff from spending the night on the sofa. With extreme effort, he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.
He opened his eyes again to find a large image of Jar Jar Binks staring at him from the TV screen. "Aaargh!" he screamed. He looked around for the remote control. It was sat in the middle of the coffee table in front of the sofa. Time stretched his arm out and tried to reach it but his fingers were just inches away from it.
"Daisy!" He shouted. No reply. She must have gone shopping or something.
Tim thought. Then he had an idea. He closed his eyes, clenched his fists under his chin and concentrated hard. Then, keeping his eyes closed, he slowly stretched out his hand towards the remote control.
There was another loud bang and the coffee table jolted up two inches, flipping the remote control into the air. It landed, to Tim's surprise, right in his palm. Before the coffee table had landed back on the floor Tim had flicked the TV channel from 'Star Wars Movie Channel' to 'Painful looking skateboard accidents network'. Tim glanced around and felt depressed that no one was there to see his Jedi skills. He sighed and relaxed on the sofa.
Downstairs, Brian took another leap into the air, landing squarely in the middle of the sheet, swishing this way and that with the paint covered broom in his hands. Then he stood back to admire his work. In the middle of the messy, chaotic swirls of paint there was dust and small pieces of wood. His gaze drifted upwards to stare at the two large dents in the ceiling of his flat. "Oops." He said quietly.
Tim spent the day channel surfing. He found several interesting channels, including 'The zombie movie network', 'The Robot Wars channel', 'The TA channel' (which he was sure he saw a brief clip of Mike driving a tank on a program called 'when TA soldiers go bad!', and the Crufts Channel, at which Colin pricked his ears up and started barking loudly at the screen, so he quickly turned that off.
He was watching the Skateboard channel when Daisy returned home. She was carrying four bags of shopping, and was quite surprised to see Tim on the sofa.
"Tim, use the force." Daisy said. "And you smell like a Wookie."
Tim looked at her in a daze. His eyes were bloodshot and stung after staring at the TV. "What?" he said.
Daisy sighed. "I said, 'Tim you're life's a farce. Shouldn't you be selling comics at work?"
"Work?" repeated Tim. He thought for a moment, then picked up the phone.
On the high street, the phone rang at the Fantasy Bazaar comic shop. It rang twice before the answer machine beeped and played its message. "Thank you for calling the Fantasy Bazaar." Said Bilbo's voice from the machine's speaker. "We are not able to answer you're call at the moment due to the fact we don't have a phone. Please leave a message but do not expect a call back, as we have no phone, just the answering machine. Did I mention that already? Blast. Maybe I should record the message again. Tim! How do you work this thing?"
The machine beeped. "Hi Bilbo, its Tim. Sorry, but I can't get in to work today. Got a bad flu or something. See you tomorrow."
The machine beeped again as Tim put the phone down. Two seconds later, the phone rang again. Bilbo's message played once more, then another beep.
"Hi Tim, its Bilbo. Sorry, but I can't get in to work today. Got a bad flu or something. See you tomorrow."
Back at the flat on Meteor street, Tim turned back to the TV.
"I'm not sure we should have that thing." Said Daisy worriedly. "I don't think you should watch that much TV."
Tim flicked the channel over to 'The writers channel'. There was a program about curing writer's block. Daisy immediately sat down next to him on the sofa. "Well, maybe we'll keep it a short while."
She sniffed the air a couple of times and turned up her nose, looking at Tim.
"Er, I think I'll put the kettle on." She said, going to the kitchen area.
As soon as she'd flicked the switch on the kettle there was a knock at the door.
Looking at Tim, she sighed, realising he wasn't going to move from the sofa.
"I'll get it."
"Thanks" said Tim over his shoulder, trying not to take his eyes off the screen.
Brian smiled at Daisy as she opened the door. He handed her a very battered broom covered with dried paint.
"Brought your broom back." Said Brian.
"Oh. Thank you." Said Daisy, taking the broom but trying to hold it with her fingertips.
"Could I borrow some plaster?" asked Brian.
"Yeah, sure. I've got some in my bag."
Brian looked puzzled. Daisy went to the kitchen table and pulled out a small plaster from the little first aid kit she kept in her bag.
"Had an accident?" she asked.
"Yeah."
"Where the damage?" Daisy asked, ready to put the plaster on Brian's finger.
"Downstairs." Replied Brian, looking down.
Daisy followed his gaze downwards and realised she was looking at the crotch of his scruffy jeans.
"Oh." She said.
"I think I might need something more than that." Brian said, pointing at the plaster in her hand.
"Oh. Size does matter then?" she smiled, trying to make a joke. She turned back to her bag on the kitchen table. "What happened?"
"I had some trouble with the broom. Made a couple of dents. Hit the ceiling."
"Well, I'm not surprised. You men are quite sensitive down there, aren't you?"
She handed him a larger plaster. Brian stared blankly at it.
Daisy waited a moment.
"Thank you." Said Brian slowly.
"You're welcome." Said Daisy, as if she were addressing a small child. "You're getting better at that, aren't you? See you later."
"Bye." Said Brian and walked slowly back to the staircase leading down to his basement flat.