SLOOT by Ian MacPherson

Author:Ian MacPherson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Bluemoose Books Ltd
Published: 2019-09-19T06:38:08+00:00

* * *

10 Prof. Larry Stern, Laughter and Wealth: The Lowest Common Denominator Theory of Comedy.

19

The foothills of the Dublin mountains. Ah, the mem’ries, the mem’ries. I’m reminded of the time… But that will have to wait for the autobiography. This, after all, is not about me.

The pink Mini bounced to a halt. Lights out. The moon shone like – I’m tempted to say like a pre-energy-saving hundred-watt light bulb. Bit clunky, but you get the drift. With a vintage hundred-watter you could read a 19th century Presbyterian bible sans glasses. Play a cricket match at midnight and keep the fast bowlers on. Make out every detail of the Hellfire Club, that legendary ruin on top of Mount Pelier Hill, from the front window of the three aunts’ ancient car; which is exactly what Hayden did.

‘Hmn,’ he said. ‘Bats.’

The three aunts stared at the dark creatures flitting around the craggy ruins.

‘Or are they?’

‘This we don’t know, Hayding.’

‘Yet.’

They turned and peered at him, in frightening unison.

‘Could be the girls out for a nocturnal fly-about.’

‘Around the moon, Hayding.’

‘The moooon!’

‘Stop it,’ said Hayden. ‘You’re not witches. Let’s get this over with.’

‘You’re right, Hayding. We’re tree dotty oul wans wit dementia.’

And they were off again. Giggle giggle giggle, possibly cackle, and they kept it up as Hayden trudged through the bracken and pine tree stumps, up the moonlit hill towards the luminous and looming ruin. He glowered at them for a while, but soon the levels of concentration needed to negotiate the uneven ground took over. The aunts, on the other hand, seemed to skip lightly on their way, and when Hayden almost disappeared down a concealed bog hole, they hooted.

‘Your little face, Hayding.’

‘God, if you could do that in a fillum!’

‘You’d be mega.’

‘It’s the way you keep it serious, Hayding. Priceless. Who’s that fella we’re tinking of?’

‘Finlay Jamesing.’

‘The very same. I mean look at you, Hayding.’

‘You’re wasted on the talkies.’

Here’s the extraordinary thing: they were absolutely right! Professor Stern has described just such a scene in his ground-breaking study, The Unintentionality of Comic Genius. I wound it back in my head. Hayden struggling through stumps and bracken on his relentless forward march. Dour. Morose. Focussed. Then, out of nowhere, GLUP! Chest high in damp, millennia-old peat. No change in his facial expression if we exclude an added layer of startled humiliation. The hope, expectation and final indignity of all human life encapsulated in seventeen seconds. File under Comedy: Level Five. A remarkably similar scene features in Finlay Jameson’s masterpiece, The Suicide, in which our furious anti-hero decides to end it all but is thwarted at every turn by near death experiences.

They reached the summit in ebullient mood. The aunts, that is. As if they’d been spirited down to Earth for this very moment. The ashes in their polished urn. The brooding, satanic ruin. The melancholy soughing of a light, gusting breeze. The moooooon. Hayden trudged up behind them, removing dried bracken and small lumps of peat from his bog-wet clothes. His dour and morose expression had now set into a permanent scowl.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.