Tuesday, November 2, 2010

Diary Of A Noxygen Atom


Whizzed into some cat’s nose c/o a sharp intake of breath, probably shock.

Two days later, I find I’m sentient. From my vantage point on the tip of a whisker-like protein formation, I see a young girl, hear her say, “isn’t it great the way we found this gorgeous cat in the street, then took her in and fed her?”

Several chemical recombinations later, I’ve slipped bonds from the whisker, and I’m halfway along the tongue of a bearded veterinary surgeon, blown this way then that by a chirpy, “for a cat so old, she’s surprisingly kitten-like” and a less upbeat, “such a shame she has a renal disorder.”

The vet sneezes, and I’m back inside the cat. Goes weird for a while, like I’m part of some stomach lining denied access to nutrients thanks to an unwillingness on the part of the stomach filler to ingest anything other than My Bloody Favourite. Outside, the world rumbles on. Too much information to process. All I hear is Sven Sven Sven. Is this the sound of a guillotine for Oxygen atoms? Am I finally to be sliced, proton from electron, in some garish sub-particular nightmare? Or has Goran Erikson signed up to manage Leicester City, and I’m sensing the incredulity of souls beyond my feline prison, palpable as an elephant’s trunk up a tennis player’s skirt during a ladies’ singles final in the 33 degree Wimbledon heat? Only one conclusion I can come to about the nature of the molecular structure I’m helping to form, the corner of the universe I’m holding together with my quarky oscillations: this is the Scudamore Rd RSPCA Centre, isn’t it? Oh please, dear Lord, don’t let me end up part of some crusty old Alsatian’s bum hole.

Now I’m skating on eyeball fluid. I can tell it’s an eyeball because it’s looking at me. Overhead, there’s a sign.

Dogs > Cats > Ferrets >

Ferrets? Hey, don’t ask me — I’m only an Oxygen atom. You’re the guys owning, feeding and rescuing the downright absurd pets. Like this one, the baby kitten one. The one whose eye I’m skating on like David Seaman breaking the neck of some poor lycra-clad young hussy while sporting a visible vacuum where a ludicrous ponytail used to be.

Motion, like the Earth is moving faster through space, sucked towards a black hole billions of light years away. Or maybe it’s just a car ride along a dual carriageway. Yep, lookee there — that’s me stuck to the side of a half-sucked boiled sweet tucked under the passenger seat. Next to me is a cat in a basket, looking slightly confused but essentially alive and well despite not eating for a week and being perforated to within an inch of her life. Any minute now she’ll be home, tucked up snug by the warmest radiator or redefining the word ‘irritating’ with some strained medley of meaows.

Signing out now.

A good few days, but still no closer to my goal. One day, one day, you’ll see me — burned up, spent, consumed — in the flare of some colossal space rocket bound for Venus. Or part of an ASDA Smart Price trifle six pack.


8 comments:

Mother (Re)produces. said...

Nice to have you back, Geoff. 'Bout time, too. Whirl goes a bit apeydoodles when you're away...

Robert Swipe said...

"Sven Sven Sven"

Are you sure that wasn't the judges on Strictly Come Dancing giving their verdict?

Great bit of Seaman-related banter I once overheard on the old North Bank:

We're defending the North Bank End and there's one of those trademark lulls in the crowd that the Highbury Library was renowned for. Up pipes a rasping Cockney voice:

"Oi, Seaman! Lose the ponytail *and* *sort* *yer* *life* *aht*!!!"

Those were the days...

xxx
Bob

Whirlochre said...

Mother
Believe it or not, I have special apeydoodleswear for such emergency occasions.

Robert
Personally, I miss those great commentary moment when, from his goalmouth, "Seaman came flying out."

Insanely childish of me, I know. But in an infinite cosmos, we're lucky to have bagged that one and I'm milking it.

Rufus said...

You had me worried there, Geoff. When you didn't turn up for our tryst, I thought you might have been attacked by one of those big metal thingies. Fancy getting caught by a human. I'll let you off though cos you're gorgeous.

fairyhedgehog said...

I'm glad to see Geoff's back safe and sound but I would like some proper pictures to "ooh" over. The silhouette is classy but I need more!

Old Kitty said...

Geoff's been found!!! Geoff is alive!! Geoff's got Whirl in her head, the poor thing....!!!!

We can only hope and pray that the prognosis is good! Take care
x

McKoala said...

Go Geoff!

Sylvia said...

This post has put me right off my lunch! I agree with FHH though, more photos! (speaking of which, I think I've finally got one for you!)