And No Surprises

We were woken this morning by an alarm. Not the usual one. Not the glorious chiming of the phone alarm, signalling the start to another beautiful day. The one that causes us to bound out of bed, giggling, throwing open the curtains, calling down to the milkman and the butcher in singsong voices, slicing a grapefruit in two, filling the toast rack, whistling like the Swisszz.

Not that alarm.

A fire alarm.

Or a burglar alarm.

I'm not sure which, but it was 6:30. So I could barely register it as a noise. It might have been tiny hammers on my piece of mind, breaking them up into smaller pieces of mind, until I was choking on them.

I got up to make sure that our flat wasn't the source of the noise. That would have been annoying. Like the time I got progressively annoyed at some idiot's phone which kept going off in the office, plotting to kill them if they didn't shut it up, not realising (SHYAMALAN ENDING) that it was MY PHONE.

But our flat, and indeed our building, was alarm free. It was coming from outside. But it was loud, and didn't bode well for our getting back to sleep.

It went on too long (like this story). Alarms don't need to be that long. After about five minutes, you can pretty much assume that the alarm's protectee is either stolen or burned. Or sturnled (if that was a thing).

The end to this story comes when the alarm goes off.

But before that, just think about an anarchist lamp. What would that look like?

***

I've decided that I need to end conversations about thirty seconds earlier than I do at present.

They usually start slowly, but gradually build up steam. I make the odd self-deprecating quip, forge an understanding with my companion, drop a few profound nuggets of life-lesson. But I hang on too long. Like The Rolling Stones. And then things get awkward. We accidentally speak at the same time. A joke falls flat. I try and fail to end things. News comes on the radio of the death of a Royal.

Here are a few conversation transcripts. See if you can see the point at which I should have ended the conversation, and at which things start to go wrong.


EXHIBIT A

Paul: Hey, how's it going?

Ricardo: Ugh. Well, you know. Tuesday.

Paul: Yeah, Tuesday is the worst day. People should have the option of staying at home.

Ricardo: I'm having trouble with my wife.

Paul: Yeah, she told me that last night. IN BED. But seriously, do you want to talk about it?

Ricardo: Well, the thing is, I get the feeling she doesn't liste....

Paul: Just remember. The coming together of two people is a beautiful thing. Of course things won't always go smoothly. But the love you share is a miraculous thing. Don't forget that.

Ricardo: Yeah! I... I suppose you're right!

Paul: I GOBBED IN A THICKET ON THE WAY IN.


[Where did things go wrong here? The answer is "Yeah, Tuesday is the worst day". Tactless. What about 9/11?]


EXHIBIT B

Paul: How are you feeling today? Better?

Hilary: Yeah, I think so. I've just got so much work to do.

Paul: If they've given you so much, it's because they know you're great at your job.

Hilary: Oh, stop. That's silly.

Paul: I'm serious! You're great at what you do! Then again, what would I know? I'm not exactly employee of the month.

Hilary: Maybe not, but you've certainly cheered me up!

Paul: Hey, that's what I'm here for. Well, that and taking pictures of your mother in the shower. God rest her soul...


[What was my mistake this time? Well, the content was fine. But during the conversation, I was doing an impression of Nelson Mandela's evil twin: Belsen Mandela]


EXHIBIT C


Hope: Morning!

Paul (with baseball bat): AAAAAAARRRRRGHHHHHHHHH!


[The mistake here was probably the shouting/baseball bat combination. Either one would be unacceptable. Both together was a real no-no.]


So I'm going to start shortening my conversations. I want people to think I'm a good conversationalist. So, if need be, I'll just have to start telling myself to shut up. By shouting SHUT UP at myself when others are talking.

Problem solvéd.