Happy Enough Bryn?

A short tale set in the fictional Paradise Hotel in Scarborough, England, during a time when three conferences - science fiction, medical, and pigeon-fanciers - were booked.

This was a creative writing task - and each student had to invent a character, and tell a story from their point of view. They may encounter the characters highlighted by other students. When the tales were read out aloud, it was amusing to see the crossovers. Anyway, this is my tale - and my character was an attended at the science fiction conference. His name is Bryn Johnstone.

Happy Enough Bryn?

They called it Paradise but it wasn’t angel wings I saw on that last day. Last day of the conference that is. Perhaps I should explain.

First of all, my name is Bryn Johnstone. I was staying at the Paradise Hotel in Scarborough, attending the sixth MultiVersiCon, and yes - I am a self-confessed sci-fi geek and don’t apologise for that.

It hadn’t been as good as the last two gatherings I’d attended, but was still reasonably good fun. Part of the reason was that the hotel, in their wisdom, had decided to book two other conferences at the same time. One was some sort of medical or pharmaceutical jolly, and the other was full of the flat-cap brigade and cages of what I later discovered to be pigeons. As a consequence of this we had less meeting rooms allocated to us than usual, so it was a little more … intimate. We still had the main hall though, so the celebrity guests could address us all and share their anecdotes.

It was a quarter-of-an-hour until the next luminary was scheduled to appear, and the autograph queues were too long to join until then, so I’d gone to the dealers’ room to have another look around there. It was packed. Amongst those clad in black tee-shirts displaying slogans and promoting their favourite shows, there was the usual quota of costumed attendees, cosplaying their roles to various degrees. I saw all variations of Klingons – from those sporting the fishnet costumes and questionable fake tans, through the Mars-bar-bonced next generation, to the newest unusual incarnation. Between two stalls I even saw Wonder Woman and a Wookie closing a deal – under the disapproving eyes of the hotel concierge. I myself was clad in a uniform reminiscent of Space 1999 – I’d unpicked the sleeve from a grey track suit and replaced it with that from a black one.  Well, you’ve got to make an effort, haven’t you?

I’d made some decent purchases. Within my Forbidden Planet rucksack I had a set of Babylon 5 Minbari/Earth-Alliance trading cards, a Stargate keyring, and an old magazine from that 80s cult show “Spark Farmers” that I’d had signed by Val Dirmitage himself. Oh, and a TARDIS pencil case.

Speaking of the TARDIS, when we filed back into the main hall, I noticed that they’d erected a blue box at the corner of the stage. Fans were milling about, making their way to get seated on the conventional – no pun intended – red plush chairs. Someone dressed in a cat costume – don’t ask me why – was weaving their way through the crowd in the opposite direction to everyone else, when I heard a commotion nearby – through an open doorway to the side of the hall.

When a flock of pigeons flew through the doorway, I was in their path. Two or three flapped in my face before gaining height, one even leaving me a present on my head. Unfortunately – although I didn’t know it at the time – I seem to be severely allergic to pigeons.  I was finding it progressively hard to breathe and I dropped to my knees feeling disorientated, the black marble-effect vinyl floor looking – appropriately – like a star-scape. Someone shouted for a doctor, and the last thing I saw was Sylvester McCoy looming up, carrying an umbrella.

It was just as well the medical conference had some doctors who hadn’t originated on Gallifrey. They gave me something which brought me round. I think someone mentioned epinephrine, although it’s quite possible they were asking “Happy enough, Bryn?” After all, when you’re in paradise, and paradise is in Scarborough, you have to make allowances for the Yorkshire accent.

Punky Visits the Village - a Sylvanian Tale

Some of the Babblebrook Grey Rabbit family

Punky Burroughs

When I was assigned a creative writing exercise to write a short tale with a twist, I decided to set it in an idyllic environment - and what can be more idyllic than the homely world of Sylvanian Families? Family units of cute little animals living in harmony and happiness, Far distant from this hectic world. Surely we can't disrupt this? Well maybe temporarily...

Punky Visits the Village - A Sylvanian Tale

It was a bright sunny day in the Sylvanian Village, but then, it was always a bright sunny day. It was rare that anything disturbed the good life the happy little critters enjoyed there, but one such rare occasion occurred a few years ago. This lasted a few weeks, causing the inhabitants to be quite unsettled, and this was all due to a single visitor from out of town.

Rocky Babblebrook and his family owned the general store, and as the busiest shop on the high street, it often became a place for random social gatherings. It was one such busy day when the visitor descended upon them. It was a grey rabbit called Punky Burroughs, and he was the eldest son of Rocky’s brother-in-law. Straight away, he didn’t leave a good impression elbowing his way through the customers in the shop, announcing, “Hey, Uncle Rockmeister. I need a crib for a few days.”

Now family is family, and Rocky couldn’t refuse the young bunny a place to stay. A brief word with Crystal, and they made up a bed so her nephew could share the room with their middle son Bubba. Bubba, being a good natured lad, was happy with the company and welcomed Punky. However, there were problems even from that first night.

Punky had the habit of playing what could be considered avant-garde music at any hour of the day or night. He performed this by blowing into an ocarina fashioned from a carrot. Unfortunately Punky did not have any aptitude for music, not realising or caring that the holes in the ocarina were misplaced and producing disharmonious sounds. The noise grated, especially since Bubba was used to the wonderful music from his friend Rusty Wildwood, the Wildwoods known for their regular recitals. Punky ignored all poor Bubba’s pleas – with the result that Bubba overslept the following morning.

When Bubba came downstairs, he had missed breakfast and then discovered that his delivery bike had gone missing – presumably borrowed by Punky. Hs sister Breezy thought it was funny, and he didn’t want to tell tales to his parents, so the disruption continued.

It emerged that Punky was visiting all the bunny families in Sylvania, attempting to romance all the young girls – Holly Wildwood, Sophie Snow-Warren, Tilly Dappledawn, Kirsty Corntop amongst others. Only Ingrid Blackberry seemed immune to his charms, but she was always somewhat of a tomboy. When Ingrid told Bubba that Punky was smoking some foul-smelling plant substance, he decided it was time to tell his parents. Grass on grass – karma.

Bad feelings are uncommon in Sylvania, so the confrontation between Rocky, Crystal and Punky was uncomfortable to say the least. Punky eventually agreed to stop smoking and taking Bubba’s bicycle, but the secret night-time serenades were to continue. To Bubba’s dismay, Punky showed no sign of moving on from the Babblebrook household.

After a week, PC Bobby Roberts – the badger who policed the village – called to see the Babblebrooks. Small valuable items had gone missing from many homes and Punky Burroughs was the main suspect. The items were found in a potato sack – itself purloined from Bob Blackberry’s premises – amongst Punky’s belongings. He protested his innocence, but was taken away. Bubba smiled. He had his room back.

With next to no crime in Sylvania, there is neither jail nor judiciary. This means that rare miscreants have to be transported out of the area when appropriate transport is available. In this respect, the Renard fox family offered to help by temporarily holding Punky captive. Eric Renard was a DIY expert, and it took no time to fashion a cage as a makeshift jail.

Sadly, Punky escaped and was never seen again. This did not concern the Renards; there’s no room for guilty feelings in Sylvania. They simply settled down and had meat pie for supper.