WDS-Wednesday was Rather Weird, Part A

was momentarily confused the next morning when he awoke in a strange room and bed that was certainly not his. The sheets were musty with age and John had never ever seen a piece of furniture that ended in four griffin heads. The clock whose chimes woke him was an old wind-up one on the neglected, dusty mantelpiece, a far cry from the white digital one with big red numbers and an actual alarm that he had used back in his flat. He stared at the brass pendulum for a few moments, watching as it swung back and forth as his memory reconfigured. 1

A pretty woman bloomed in the forefront of his memory; black hair, Nordic eyes and an ankh tattoo in the small of her back that he had caught a glimpse of as she had shimmied out of the parlour door, a tray of half-eaten breakfast in her hands. He remembered the pills she had brought him for his horrid headache before telling him of wondrous things-wizardry, Normies and his latent power. He was still pretty sure that Jane had been talking nonsense, but decided to humour her until he was home. It then struck him, as he pushed the old blankets aside, that he needed to find a new job. 2

John was wide awake by eight o’clock, according to the tall grandfather clock standing opposite the bathroom door. He had found the bathroom by chance; although the walls were the same dreary hue, the floor tiles were new and pale blue. The room was like a large cupboard but had a clean toilet and matching bath that someone had hooked a showerhead over, although the water that came spewing out of it was icy cold. He borrowed one of the towels on the rack but was still shivering and covered in goose-bumps even after he had gotten dressed, and by the time he stepped out the bathroom, first sticking his head out to see if the coast was clear, the delicious, greasy smell of frying bacon was wafting up the stairs and along the corridor. 3

He found that the stairs in question were not as rickety as he had first imagined. The front door was across from them at the bottom and the parlour from the day before was on his right, but the bacon smell seemed to be coming from another part of the house. John turned left, found himself facing another wall lined with overburdened shelves, and turned left again, where, through an open door, he spotted a kitchen. 4

“In here!” A familiar, lovely walled called out. 5

John walked in and was met with a room that very much like something he had seen in a textbook in school as a boy, for the kitchen strongly reminded him of something out of a late Victorian house. The floors were made of neat tiles that were either a dark or pale blue-grey. The work units, clearly rather new, were a boring brown chipboard and the table, not quite centred, had four chairs and a white cloth thrown over it. 6

“Sleep well?” Jane asked brightly, “Sometimes the plumbing gurgles in the night and rattles. It can be very annoying, especially in winter when the pipes freeze.” 7

Jane waved at him to sit on one of the two free chairs. He sat down a little nervously and did not fail to notice the white rooster sitting on his right. It looked rather exhausted and thin from stress, and John feared that the poor bird, which was leaning over quite dangerously, would drown in the bowl of cereal that someone had plonked in front of it. 8

“Is he...?” John began weakly, gesturing vaguely at the poor bird, “Is he alright?” 9

“That’s Albert,” Jane smiled gently, “He was a normal chicken bound for our dinner table until Uncle Dunstaffernage thought he could make a super-spy out him, but, as you can see...” 10

She looked somewhat pitying as she regarded the unlucky chicken, who clucked wearily.11

“He looks like he’s going to-”12

“Don’t worry, he won’t.” 13

She turned around from the pan on the stove for a moment, fork in hand. 14

“And this,” Jane added, “is Spike.”15

John could only see a plate piled with bacon sandwiches and new copy of the Daily Telegraph that appeared to be propped against the table. 16

“Well say “hello” then.”17

“Hullo...?” John asked warily. 18

The paper rustled and a peevish voice said, “Introduce the poultry before me, why don’t you?” 19

An affected sniff followed. 20

“You always complain that I throw you into the limelight or disturb your reading if I don’t, so for once, I didn’t,” Jane told him, but she didn’t sound angry at all, “Now be polite and introduce yourself.”21

There was a loud, melodramatic sigh and the newspaper was flung down on the table, as a tiny, green and scaly hand was proffered towards him for a second. 22

“The name’s Spike, pleased to meet you, now sod off and leave me be!” 23

John gawped, and maroon eyes rolled in exasperation. 24

“Another typical addition to the menagerie, I see. What’s this one going to be? Our stunning specimen of Homo sapiens sapiens, hmm?” 25

“Spike, don’t be rude.”26

Jane appeared utterly unperturbed by Spike’s anti-social behaviour. The little green lizard appeared not to remember escorting John to the library the night before. 27

“Just look at him!” Spike began, waving his small hand at John, “like a gormless fish, he is. All you need is an aquarium and we could officially become a zoo-”28

“Spike!”29

Jane put a jam jar down hard on the tabletop, a few flecks of strawberry flicking from the knife she was holding. 30

“What?” The pot-bellied lizard said with an air of faked innocence. 31

“You know full well what!” Jane told him firmly, but still with no real anger in her voice. To John, she sounded a bit like a mother. 32

“Fine.”33

Spike disappeared behind his newspaper again, leaving Jane shaking her head in mild disbelief as she spread jam on some toast and shoved the squares in front of John. 34

“Just ignore him. He’s always been like that with strangers and even with those he knows. It’s just his way and as the last of his species, you can hardly blame him-“35

She sat down and John, after glancing at Spike, leant across the table, and whispered, his eyes fully trained on the latest political to-do at Downing Street, “What is he?” 36

The paper moved a little, and John knew that Spike had overheard him, but Jane did not seem to notice as she answered in a normal voice, “Why, a dragon of course! Silly.” 37

She began raising a piece of toast to her mouth but then paused for a moment and added, “Not sure what type though, to be honest. You see, he doesn’t breathe fire and he’s a bit small-’38

The newspaper hit the desk with a soft whump, and glittering eyes squinted accusatorily at John. 39

‘You sure we can trust him with that? It’s thanks to his lot that mine are extinct!’ 40

“But for you, of course,” Jane interjected cheerfully, “Besides, you’re the one who said we should take him in-” 41

Spike jumped down from his seat, clutching his plate of greasy, seeded sandwiches in his stubby claws. He was barely knee high. 42

“Wait, where are you going?” Jane called as Spike waddled towards the door, “We’ve got to discuss Egyptian Hall today before go there this afternoon!” 43

Spike froze, and with a visible shudder, turned around and tramped back to the table, with a sullen look on his scaly, bent shovel of a face. 44

“I’m not going into the lair of beast with a dog, a chicken and an idiot. We’ll be outnumbered-”45

Jane leant over the table, brushing John’s sleeve in order to pour herself a cup of steaming tea from a stripy blue teapot. It was surrounded by a cluster of chipped cups patterned with roses, and John felt a pleasant tingle ripple through his as Jane brushed against him for a second time. 46

“We can bring Claudia along if it makes you feel any safer-”47

Spike slapped his hand down, and hard, although as he was diminutive, he was not particularly scary. 48

“No!” He shouted, “We ask her to do everything-Claudia could you pick up this bloke we found, Claudia could you cook the bloke something to eat, Claudia could you clean a room for him, Claudia could you cook our breakfast! She does everything, and on top of vacuuming under Mr Crazy’s beard! How d’yer ‘spect we’ll get her to Piccadilly? She’ll stand out a bloody mile!” 49

“It’s either that or we let these two have a breath of fresh air and a bit of exercise-Merlin knows, I need some myself!”50

Jane passed the four cups out and sat down looking unruffled by the stroppy little dragon, who finally muttered, “Fine, but if I get harvested for my parts-”51

“You won’t,” Jane said, as blithe as ever, sipping her tea and pulling Spike’s discarded newspaper closer, “You’re too small, for a start. They’re more likely to keep you-”52

Spike’s maroon eyes positively boiled as John watched, unsure whether to be worried or to shrug it all off. 53

“In all my fifty-eight years, Artemisia Jane Jones, daughter of Tryphena Dunstaffernage and a Normie, I have never had a growth spurt since the day I hatched!” 54

He had not dropped his sandwiches but Albert, startled, crowed and flapped wildly, tipping his teacup over and cracking it. The handle, which broke off, fell into a slosh of hot brown liquid that soaked the white tablecloth and stained it irreversibly. 55

“I wasn’t attacking your height, you silly thing,” Jane told Spike breezily, still drinking her tea and reading his newspaper. She did not seem to notice the brown deluge spreading towards her, “I was just pointing out a valid fact. Anyway, it’s a very nice height you got. You can live in a house; better one foot than forty-five.” 56

“I’d rather be forty-five foot long and fifteen high any day!” Spike sneered, “Least then I can be rid of you lot!” 57

He turned on his heel and disappeared from kitchen, leaving Jane drinking her tea and humming to herself as John swallowed and looked around nervously, plate held up from the sea of tea. The stories of maiden-eating, treasure-hoarding monsters loomed in the forefront of his brain as he turned to Jane and asked, “Is he normally like that?”58

John surprised himself by how timid he sounded, although as usual, Jane did not appear to notice. She shrugged and pulled the bowl of uneaten cereal out from under Albert, who, after his private dust-up, looked positively dead. 59

“He’s always been rather cantankerous, ever since I’ve known him. I think Uncle Dunstaffernage’s increasing senility is probably upsetting him beneath that scaly hide of his.”60

She sipped her tea, and John reconsidered his situation. 61