Chris switched on the computer and it whizzed, shuddered and spluttered and finally the friendly voice said, "Welcome Chris". You know, this was supposed to be ‘state of the art’ equipment. After all, it was the most expensive computer in the whole store. He smiled at the thought of the young pretty assistant who blushed profusely as she gave him the whole sales patter as to why he should buy this particular model. He sighed and thought, "Will I always have this effect on women?"
"Dad stop daydreaming and tell me what you want me to write". At that point there was a terrible groan which seemed to come from the very bowels of the computer. At the same time Rosanna’s mobile phone rang and Chris could see that it was "that boy". He watched her face light up and as he watched her face he saw the light that a thousand fathers or more have seen before. The realization that he was no longer the only man in her life stung like a wasp on a long hot summer’s evening down the local pub. In other words, you are enjoying your pint when suddenly pain hits you from nowhere and you did not ask for it to happen either! The time for Rosanna’s unquestioning admiration had passed - come to think of it so had any notion of her helping him. He thought, "I must make a mental note of this moment - this could make the basis for one of my songs."
Back to the job in hand. He clicked on the gallery assistant! for help. He liked the little pussycat that sprung to his assistance, pawed the page when it wanted your attention or scratched the screen when he had made a mistake. It was funny when he rolled over and played dead but the cat had gone - far much more interesting than Mr. Paperclip. He thumped the keyboard a couple of times and suddenly the little man himself appeared clearly very agitated. "Now then, what would you want, when I am in the middle of a precarious situation?"
Chris rubbed his eyes. Every time he turned round the little man himself was there. Surely he must be a figment of his imagination if he was inside the computer! Bill Gates was very clever and could do wonders with Microsoft, but as yet did not have the ability to read inside his head, or did he? Another more likely alternative was, he wondered, whether the mushrooms that he had picked fresh from the garden this morning might have been sprinkled with the "wonder stuff."
Chris cleared his throat and said, "You know that I need to open the bag. My wife has managed to open the bag and seems to think that the key to opening it has something to do with a song of mine, but I just cannot seem to think. I was hoping that if I could e-mail my fans then they could put their heads together and come up with the right song. However, I am not exactly known for my mastery of the computer keyboard! Anyway why would you want to help me? Hang on a minute, you said you were in the middle of a precarious situation - how about if I scratch your back you can scratch mine? Do we have a deal?"
The little man sighed. "You only ever talk to me when you want something. All these hundreds of years you have ignored me. I have been on my own for so long with no one to talk to and now you need something from me you are everywhere I turn around." Chris smiled and said, "Well I am here now, talk to me, tell me about yourself, what are your likes and dislikes? Lets bond!" To which the little man promptly ignored him. Chris said under his breath "you little paranoid Marvin the Android."
By now Chris was beginning to get irritated by the little man and thought he had better call out the engineers so that the computer could be repaired. Suddenly he felt a strange sensation of being pulled closer and closer to the screen. He felt himself floating through the screen and he could see circuitry boards, wires, cat's hairs, paper clips and massive blue sparks. He was now hurtling at great speed towards a long hollow tube and he felt himself being squeezed through the tube like a sausage through a sausage machine. He continued falling, slipping and sliding down the tube and he felt nauseous just like he did on the water shute at Centre Parcs. He was flung unceremoniously on the ground. He felt himself choking as the air was thick with smoke, that nasty acrid smell went up his nose and lingered. There was a familiar stale smell that he could not quite recognize. He sniffed again and then the realization dawned on him - it was coffee! He had an instant flashback of this morning’s earlier events. He smelt the aroma of the fresh coffee that Diane had made him and remembered how he could not be bothered to move from the computer table to read the paper. He had opened up the paper and knocked the coffee over and it went all over and inside the computer - he thought he had cleaned it all up. Oops!
The little man nudged him to see whether he was still breathing and said, "I have been waiting for a long time for you. Come on, no time for ditherers. See here, these are all my little helpers and look at them - disease ridden everyone of them." Chris looked around and saw hundreds of smaller versions of the little man laying everywhere shivering, sneezing, spluttering and coughing. "They have caught a virus and now we cannot complete our mission. If you tell me how I can cure them, then I will tell you the clue to your song. Remember your help will be worth your weight in gold."
