Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Alfred Makes Me Laugh

Don't get me wrong - I think Alfred is a great guy. I've known him for years, and he's always been a good friend. But in his later years, he's been slowing down a bit. Not just physically (though he walks with a limp and a stoop) but also mentally.

Sometimes he'll look at me for a few seconds with a sort of deer-in-the-headlights look, and I know that he's trying to remember my name. Me, who he's known for so long. Other times he'll wander aimlessly about the house, looking in and under and over and around every piece of furniture in the entire residence. And I know he's lost something again.

This time it was the keys. Not my keys, and not his keys. The boss's keys. Those keys lock and unlock not just every door, gate, and cupboard in the house, but also everything in the boss's office, and who knows what else.

Alfred is in a panic. He's been upstairs, downstairs, in the attic, in the basement, in the pantry, the garage...actually, there's only one place I can think of where he hasn't checked.

"Hey Alfred," I said as he wandered by, peering into vases set on mahogany hall tables, "The boss just called. He's on his way home. You know what that means, don't you?"

Alfred's panic increased. "Help me look?" he pleaded.

I smiled. Truth is, I love to torment Alfred - just a bit. "Sorry, Alfred, no can do. I'm busy."

"Doing what?" he demanded. Now he was picking through the garbage in the kitchen's trash basket.

"Mostly just looking handsome. That's a full time job, you know."

Alfred muttered something (I don't think I want to know what he said) and wandered off to the spacious dining room. I followed at a careful distance.

"Hey Alfred," I said, "The boss just called again. He said he's only about two minutes away. Someone needs to unlock the gate." I paused for effect. "If you want to give me the keys, I'll put the gate up for you."

Now Alfred's muttering was loud enough - and clear enough - that I could understand him.

I'm not repeating what he said.

Things went from silly to absurd in the next two minutes, as Alfred put a stepladder in the middle of the livingroom, so he could look inside the ceiling light's shade. I bit my tongue to keep from laughing.

Finally, I could hear the sound of the boss's vehicle coming up the road. Time to stop goofing off. "Hey Alfred," I said. He scowled and peered down at me from atop the ladder.

"What?" he said.

"Did you check your pants pocket?"

"Don't be daft, boy," he said. "Of course I checked my pockets!"

I knew he hadn't - after all, those keys had been jingling in there for the last four hours of fruitless searching. If Alfred wasn't so deaf, he would have heard them. But Alfred wasn't about to admit that he hadn't looked in such an obvious place, and he wasn't going to look while I was watching him.

I turned away.

Moments later I heard a shout of "Eureka!" I turned around in time to see him slide down the ladder, holding on with his gnarled old hands. I've never seen the old boy move so fast. Now it was just a race to see if he could get the gate unlocked and up before...

KAPOW! BAM! POP! CRASH! SMASH!

Alfred looked at me helplessly, his hand mere inches from the lock that would raise the gate.

"Holy Insurance Premiums, Alfred!" I exclaimed, "That's the third Batmobile this week!"

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