Tripping the Light Fantastic.
By davyferguson
Copyright 2011 davyferguson (weirdaudioproductions.blogspot.com).
Smashwords Edition.
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WRITER: I have four friends from the past who from time to time drop into my study for a chat and to reminisce about the rose tinted good old days. They possess Alien technology that gives them the gift of time travel. This is the story of how they came across said Alien technology.
FX: Closing notes of School piano playing a Hymn in Assembly Hall.
WRITER: It was the last school day of the year 1968- only a few more hours of Grammar school establishment rituals left to endure before the school breaks up for Christmas- and the pupils from the local grammar school would be released for two weeks of festive freedom. The whole school- from grubby little 1st years in rows at the front- to the smug know it all 6th formers at the back of the great oak beamed hall- were enduring one of those afore said rituals- the last school assembly of term. Four boys in the 5th form contingent were keeping their heads down in a futile attempt not to be noticed by their nemesis- the PE teacher and school executioner- Daffy Duck. Three of the four boys- Baron Cardy and Weird wore their hair longer than the regulation Short Back and Sides haircut. The forth boy Biggles- had already been caught and shorn this term but he bowed his head in solidarity with the other three. Assembly was coming to a close- yes they had sung “While shepherds washed their socks.” and other such festive hymns- accompanied on the piano by Howard Hendrix the amusic- music teacher. The Headmaster from centre stage had preached his speech about the former glory of the British Empire one more time. The one he does every year to stem the moral decline in society. But he is fighting a losing battle as Harold Wilson and the socialists are in power and conversion to Comprehensive education is on the horizon. And now as he stands on stage before the assembled school- looking like a giant grey haired black cloaked Caligula- in gown and mortarboard- his handwritten script has reached the final closing announcements.
HEADMASTER: Right now a final few closing notes to make before I dismiss assembly.
WRITER: The Headmaster- Mr Flemme MA. (Hons.) Cantab or Snotty as the pupils have nick-named him- coughs that dry chalky cough that all teachers fall foul of before retirement. Masterfully he carries on-
HEADMASTER: First. Yesterday’s Christmas talk on drug prevention by our guest speaker- Superintendent Floss was pleasingly well attended by both the fifth and sixth forms.
WRITER: Snotty grimaces down at his handwritten notes for a moment’s pause-
HEADMASTER: However the sealed specimen jars that Superintendent Floss somewhat unwisely circulated amongst his audience whilst lecturing upon the horrors of drug addiction were not intended as a help yourself- ‘pick and mix’ at a Woolworth’s sweets counter. (beat) Superintendent Floss has telephoned me to say that he has noticed that two of the sealed specimen jars had been tampered with. It appears that three tablets of Lysergic acid diethylamide are missing and a quantity of Cannabis resin has mysteriously turned into a small block of wood- camouflaged with black paint.
WRITER: Surreptitiously Baron- one of the fifth form boys leans over to his friend and whispers in his ear-
BARON: Who says there isn’t a Father Christmas then Cardy.
WRITER: Cardy with a dawning look of realisation on his acne spotted face whispers back at him-
CARDY: Baron you didn’t- did you?
WRITER: Biggles- the boy on the other side of Baron hisses a warning at the two of them-
BIGGLES: Ssssh. You two. Daffy Duck is glaring at us.
WRITER: Under the malevolent gaze of the Headmaster’s henchman- the boys straighten to attention with expressions of studious innocence. Somewhat red in the face with a slight flush of anger- the Headmaster continues-
HEADMASTER: This blatant breach of trust reflects very badly on the good name of my school. And could lead to a criminal investigation at the school and possible criminal prosecution for the reprobate involved.This blatant breach of trust reflects very badly on the good name of my school. And could lead to a criminal investigation at the school and possible criminal prosecution for the reprobate involved.
WRITER: He pauses to wipe the spittle from his chin with a pleated white handkerchief-
HEADMASTER: However with the prevailing spirit of Christmas in mind I am prepared to overlook this flagrant transgression and call an end to this matter. If- and only if the repentant miscreant returns these vile narcotic samples to the deputy Headmaster- Mr Mallard before we break for the Christmas vacation at noon.
WRITER: The relief in having a deputy head who would deal with such a distasteful affair was evident on the headmaster’s phony benign smile as he gave a curt nod of all out approval towards his deputy- Mr Mallard who was standing to attention like a highly trained Rottweiler guard dog - resplendent in third Reich issue tracksuit with whistle and stopwatch hanging from his dog collar. Turning back to his audience with an expression of full faced papal beatification he continues for the non sinners in the congregation-
HEADMASTER: Now on a lighter note. Tomorrow our colonial cousins- the Americans are again attempting to topple this country from her rightful place as world leader- by launching yet another of their Apollo spacecraft. Apparently the Americans propose that Apollo 8 shall orbit the moon on Christmas day. Thus providing Humanity with the first glimpse of the dark side of the moon. If NASA can achieve this technological feat then by the time you are all tucking into your Christmas dinner and listening in rapture to the Queen’s Christmas address to the nation- Mankind will have ventured its first step into the Cosmos and the goddess Selene will receive her first Christmas visitors. Who knows what is out there waiting for us.
WRITER: The Headmaster pauses for a moment of considered reflection and then announces-
HEADMASTER: Now school- let us pray.
GRAMS: The DOORS “You cannot petition the Lord with pray-”
WRITER: It is now later on in the un-official 6th form common room or student speakeasy as they like to call it- which is situated in a dark corner of the boiler room below school. The secrecy of this illicit den of iniquity is maintained by bribing the school caretaker with a regular supply of backdated copies of ‘Health and Efficiency’ and other such pictorial magazines. The furniture in this concrete bunker with warm pipe work is a mixture of old settees and arm chairs that the 6th formers have managed to sneak in over time. The one luxury is an old Dansette record player on a packing crate playing a track from the Beatles ‘White Album’ softly in the background. The time is almost ten minutes to twelve noon. Ten minutes before the end of school term- ten minutes before the end of the Headmaster’s amnesty- and ten minutes to go before freedom. Our four 5th formers and Biggles’s 6th form girlfriend- Curvy Caroline are in this dingy retreat sharing the last two ciggies from a packet of Players No 6. that Weird had purloined from his mother’s purse before leaving for school this morning. Now ‘Weird’ you may think is a weird nickname- but it is apt for this teenager. Weird has swallowed more uppers and downers in tablet form than most sixteen year olds have had the proverbial load of hot dinners. This is mainly due to a well stocked medicine cupboard in his mother’s bathroom. Weird’s mother is a divorced woman in the 1960’s- hence she is a firm believer in the Mick Jagger song “Mother’s Little Helper”- and Weird is a firm believer in ‘help yourself’ when he is performing his ablutions in his mother’s bathroom.
FX: Rattle and opening of pill bottle.
WRITER: Enough said about Weird for now- as he himself- very rarely says anything but he’s always there in the background- the Drummer of the band you might say. If I may be allowed to carry on with the beat combo motif- then Baron is the flamboyant lead singer of the band- the preening peacock strutting about the stage- any stage as long as he has an audience- just like his hero Mick Jagger. He is the quintessential schoolboy hippie with the quid deal and the giant Rizla packet in his pocket- straight out of Oz magazine. I can forgive him for all his ego-centric hipness because at home he is nothing. Baron’s father refuses to acknowledge or even speak to him in the belief that he- Baron is not his son- based on a paranoid and mistaken belief that his wife had an affair behind his back sixteen years ago when he was on nightshift at the Mother’s Pride bakery. (beat) Biggles is from a middleclass family. Mr Bigglesworth senior believes in Brylcream- Short back and sides haircuts- National service and he has an MBE that he wears proudly on his chest every Sunday for church. He is also something in the city as his British Rail season ticket declares. Biggles is torn between his authoritarian father’s aspirations for him and the freedom and fun he is having following in the footsteps of the hedonistic generation. Beat combo-wise Biggles is the self effacing brains of the band- the keyboard player and tunesmith. (beat) Now as for Cardy- well he is intelligent- with a three figure I.Q. that adds up to thirteen. But he had experienced a moment of epiphany when he was still under the effects of a weekend acid trip that continued on throughout Monday morning in the school laboratory during double physics- when he was watching time travel in action. Well it was during an experiment dealing with light refraction and reflection using prisms and mirrors. The physics master had propagated the theory that light beams were not only waves but also particles at the same time but he could not say why- as it was beyond the master’s personal perception- but it was in the textbook and he had to teach it. Cardy not to be out done had suggested that if light was also physical particles however small- then passing light particles through a solid object like a plastic prism- the solid resistance of which must slow down light- therefore one could say that light was time travel in action. The physics master poo-pooed Cardy’s theory in front of the rest of the class whilst pounding Cardy’s head with a wooden ruler- saying time travel is impossible-
PHYSICS MASTER: Because all the laws of physics are constrained by the speed of light my boy nothing travels faster than light- which is?
CARDY: 186000 miles a second or 700 million miles an hour- sir. But I am sure sir that the human mind can think faster than the speed of light sir.
PHYSICS MASTER: Maybe so- Cardinal- but yours certainly doesn’t my lad. Now sit down and shut up.
WRITER: Cardy had spent the rest of the double period hallucinating that the big white laboratory wall clock was jumping from wall to wall with the clock’s cheeky face mocking him every time it jumped- by sticking it’s tongue out at Cardy and blowing the odd raspberry or two at him.
FX: Wall clock jumps and blows a raspberry.
WRITER: From that day onwards Cardy never believed anything that establishment figures ruled to be true ever again. This may have put him out on the cusp of society- but it did not dissuade his belief in the possibility of time travel. Me- personally- I would add music into the mix of Cardy’s Time travel theory.
FX: Wall clock jumps and blows a raspberry.
WRITER: Beat Combo-wise Cardy was the bass player- keeping time. (beat) As for Curvy Caroline- what can I tell you? She is a beautiful blond seventeen year old school girl and she will be a beautiful ageless woman in the future. She comes from a happy working class family background and is as intelligent as she is beautiful. Her only possible flaw is that she is hopelessly and always will be- in love with the self effacing Biggles. To Biggles she is his Goddess- to the other band members- Curvy is the unobtainable sultry go-go dancer of the group.(beat) Bringing us back to the now moment- Biggles says-
BIGGLES: You did it didn’t you Baron- you’re not having us on are you?
WRITER: Curvy Caroline- Biggles’s beautiful 6th form girl-friend says-
CURVY CAROLINE: Our Baron did what?
WRITER: Baron proudly answers her-
BARON: Too right I did. It was too good an opportunity not too man.
WRITER: But Curvy Caroline insists-
CURVY CAROLINE: What did he actually do then?
CARDY: He took the three tabs of Acid and the ounce of Afghani Black from that copper’s samples during his anti-drug lecture yesterday afternoon- that’s what.
WRITER: Baron tries to justify himself by saying-
BARON: Well he was asking for it wasn’t he- man. With all those old clichéd horror stories about the evils of cannabis- he was taking the piss. Anyway we can all have a good Christmas now- thanks to me.
WRITER: With the conscience of Jiminy Cricket- Curvy Caroline asks-
CURVY CAROLINE: You mean you’re not going to give it all back to Mr Mallard before noon?
WRITER: Baron looks astonished at Curvy Caroline and gasps-
BARON: No-man you’ve got to be joking Curvy. Daffy Duck’s not going to uphold the Headmaster’s amnesty if he gets his hands on Me- now is he? Besides those free-bees I nicked are going to be the pinnacle of our Cosmic Christmas. Anyway I can’t give them back now. I stashed the acid tabs under the canal bridge last night and Snotty’s deadline ends in a few minutes when school breaks up. I’ll just have to sit stony faced for a few minutes more- ‘til high noon then we’re home free.
WRITER: Biggles chortles at the vision of his mate Baron acting all stoney faced like Gary Cooper- waiting for the noon train-
BIGGLES: Stony faced- Ha- I like that Baron. But Daffy Duck is running around like the vanguard of the Spanish Inquisition. He’s been questioning every fifth and sixth former he can frogmarch off to his lair in the gymnasium.
WRITER: Weird has one of his rare moments of perception and says-
WEIRD: Yes I’ve seen him at it man- he’s like a bloodhound sniffing around the classrooms. He’s getting more and more desperate as the clock ticks onwards to noon. Anyone would think that his job was at stake.
WRITER: Indignantly Curvy Caroline says-
CURVY CAROLINE: Well it probably is- as he was the teacher supervising yesterday’s anti-drugs lecture wasn’t he? So the head has probably made him responsible for your crime of the century.
WRITER: Baron just shrugs and says-
BARON: It will all blow over and be forgotten by next term Curvy. So let’s forget about the Demented Duck for now and plan our Christmas day trip in the Woods. We can split the three tabs in half then there’s enough for all five of us to go tripping.
WRITER: Cardy exclaims with fervent glee-
CARDY: Oh yes please- tripping on Christmas day- Far Out. I can escape from my parents after Christmas dinner- they won’t miss me. They’ll be snoozing in front of the telly by then.
WRITER: Biggles adds with a giggle or two-
BIGGLES: Yes mine do that too- after a few brandies. I could try and sneak out then. Hey I could bring my sister’s portable gramophone that she got for her last birthday. She’s going to be at her fiancée’s for Christmas dinner this year so she won’t miss it if I err borrow it like. It’s made in Japan and it has got a really small turntable but it does play LPs. The batteries don’t last long but if we each just took our favourite LP with us we’d probably get one play of them all before the batteries gave out. I think I’d like to take the Moody Blues “In Search of the lost Chord” as my Desert Island disc choice.
WRITER: Not to be out done- Cardy adds with enthusiasm-
CARDY: It would be great to trip outdoors with some groovy music that isn’t on a tinny transistor radio from Radio Caroline or Big ‘L’. Your sister doesn’t know how lucky she is to be able to take her favourite music with her wherever she goes. I wish I had a portable music machine like that- one that plays LPs.
WRITER: Biggles answers him with a touch of envy in his voice-
BIGGLES: You’re right. She doesn’t appreciate it- she really doesn’t. She just keeps it in her bedroom and plays all eight of her Cliff Richards singles on it over and over again. Drives me mad- when I’m doing my homework. I can hear Cliffy boy through the bedroom wall- wailing away.
WRITER: An image of a one hundred watt light bulb switches on in Cardy’s mind as he says-
CARDY: I can think of a splendid place to use it if you are brave enough to borrow it off your sister Biggles. What say we set it up in the clearing by the edge of the lake in the woods. Imagine the acoustic effect of Pink Floyd’s “A Saucerful of Secrets” gliding over the surface of the water on a cold crisp black dark night- all enclosed in the bowl of the surrounding trees. Or even better if the lake is frozen over with thick ice and it has snowed again. Imagine the stark contrast between the dark black star pocked sky and the white brilliance of crystalline snow blanketed scenery below. Like a bleak lunar winter landscape.
WRITER: Baron also has a light bulb moment and says-
BARON: With such a black and white picture you’ve painted there Cardy you’d certainly know when you were tripping. Colour would flood on to the scene like a Warner Brothers cartoon meets the collected works of Hieronymus Bosch as you went up on the acid. Far out Man. What a canvas to paint your trip on. Yeah it’s going to be outer this world.
WRITER: Getting carried away with it all- Biggles asks of his girlfriend-
BIGGLES: What about you Curvy?
WRITER: Slightly bemused- she answers-
CURVY CAROLINE: Me?
WRITER: Biggles- all eager like a puppy says-
BIGGLES: Oh you’ve got to come Curvy love. It’s Christmas. As Baron says let’s make it a Cosmic Christmas. Come with us to Heath and Reach Woods for Christmas night. It’ll be an experience of a life time just like the Apollo 8 crew going to the dark side of the moon.
WRITER: Agape- Curvy says-
CURVY CAROLINE: What an old romantic smoothie you are- Biggles my love. Offering me a trip to the moon and back- all on Christmas night. Well I don’t know. I suppose I could tell my parents I was going round to-
WRITER: Just then the boiler room door is violently swung open and in steps a well muscled- tall blond haired figure in dark tracksuit with an angry red face and dark gleaming eyes that could melt steel at ten paces-
DAFFY DUCK: Ah-ha. There you are- run to ground at last. We’ll have that diabolical cacophony off for a start.
WRITER: So saying Mr Mallard strides over to the Dansette gramophone player and pulls the plug. ‘Helter-Skelter’ tumbles to a grinding halt as Baron exclaims-
FX: The record player dies painfully slow.
BARON: Oh shite. It’s Daffy Duck.
WRITER: Biggles ever the schoolboy diplomat stands up and faces the intimidating teacher with a Bob Cratchit smile and greeting-
BIGGLES: Merry Christmas sir and a-
WRITER: A glacial glare from Daffy Duck cuts off the rest of Biggles’s festive greeting-
DAFFY DUCK: Don’t you Merry Christmas me Bigglesworth- sit down boy and take that inane grin off your face. So what have we here amongst the usual suspects? Caroline Smith- I am somewhat surprised to find you here with these degenerate boys. If you choose to lie down with dogs young lady- I warn you- you will inevitably wake up with fleas. However I haven’t got time to deal with you now- my girl. Time is short.
WRITER: Stunned at this misogynistic verbal outburst- all Curvy could do was pout and turn towards Biggles for support. But Biggles wasn’t up to the task- Mr Mallard had the same domineering effect on him as his own father has.
DAFFY DUCK: You four boys are my prime suspects for stealing those drug samples during Superintendent Floss’s informative caveat against drug addiction. I have been searching all over school for you since the end of assembly. It’s almost as if you’ve been avoiding me down here in the boiler room- which incidentally is out of bounds by the way. But now- at last I have you cornered.
WRITER: So saying Daffy Duck puts his silver whistle to his mouth and blows an ear screeching blast that would halt many a mutinous rugby scrum or even a stampeding herd of elephants in its tracks.
DAFFY DUCK: I demand the return of the stolen drugs this instant.
WRITER: Just like the embodiment of the Establishment’s referee on the playing fields of Eton- Daffy Duck imposes his police officer like power over the boys with physically menacing gesticulations of his meaty arms and the verbal authoritarian command of a PE teacher- in other words he does not have a search warrant- nor does he feel the need of one. He barks out the time worn command of oppression.
DAFFY DUCK: So boys. You know the drill. Empty your pockets out now.
WRITER: Baron ever the showman- gets up to perform saying-
BARON: Sir you inadvertently flatter us with your foul accusation. You accuse us of stealing from an Officer of the law sir- and such a high ranking one too- sir.
WRITER: Daffy Duck sneers- his feathers are ruffled now- should he use his whistle again to stifle this young upstart?
DAFFY DUCK: What do you mean by that boy?
WRITER: Cardy picks up the rugby ball and runs with it saying-
CARDY: He only means sir- that to pit our wits against such an experienced and intelligent veteran officer of the police force would indeed- be a gross act of such horrendous folly- sir.