#FP Robin Williams Tribute

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The latest theme for Friday Phrases was right up my street, concerning mythical creatures. But following the recent, awful news of one of my favourite comedians, it felt fitting I did what I do best in his honour: write.
One of the things Robin Williams did best was entertain with his work, so I thought I’d do the same, in a tribute to his work. Especially when the clichéd, generic “he was a great man, he’ll be missed, RIP” never seem to do it justice.
So here are my #FPs:

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Follow me at @ClaireBearKH

The Heckler Dream

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I was on the Hogwarts Express, heading for University (go figure). All of my belongings were crammed into the hallway outside our carriage. Our carriage consisted of a few people my age, one bodyguard, and a middle aged woman who looked utterly terrified.
And I can’t blame her.
Outside, past the locked section of the hallway, there was a tent. This tent was full of the woman’s hecklers, determined to make her life a misery. As an apprentice journalist, I was intrigued.
I took pictures of the tent through the dirty window, hoping to capture the scandal on film. I felt sorry for the woman; she’d been wrongly accused. And now she was having men spit at her and shout abuse at her. Thank God she had a bodyguard.
We locked ourselves back in the carriage when the shouting became too much for her. That was when I saw one of the men sneaking into our half of the hallway. In the same place as my stuff.
Without really thinking, I unlocked the door and saw the man snatch his hand away from one of my bags. But not quick enough. I smiled at him, then shoved him against the wall, holding him there by his collar. I was burning with fury.
“Look, buddy. You’re here to heckle this woman. Not to touch my stuff, you understand? I catch you in here again, I’ll kick your dick so far up yourself, it’ll come back out your mother.”
…No, I don’t understand my insult either. But it felt good to say, and even the people in the tent looked on and cheered. I gave the man a kick in the nuts for good measure, and then resumed my place in the carriage.
Needless to say, he didn’t come back again.

The Belgian Unicorn Dream

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So I have a holiday planned soon, going to Paris. Hopefully my dream version doesn’t happen, because it was every kind of wrong.
I was meant to be going with my boyfriend, but for whatever reason my flatmate was with me instead. We set off (a little late) for the hotel by the airport. I’d booked a room for us to nap for a bit before our flight.
Only the hotel was a little difficult to find. We were in the middle of what appeared to be a storage yard. And it was massive. I mean like to the point where you couldn’t even see how far it went on for.
This wasn’t being used like a storage yard, though. In between the humongous crates, people were doing various activities within the maze.
We’d never find our hotel.
We passed one of my work regulars singing karaoke by himself. We pushed our way through a group of leotard-clad plastic women, gyrating to a workout video. They looked at us with malice for interrupting them. I simply said, “I could totally do that.”
At some point, we picked up another of my flatmates and a friend from College. They decided they were coming with us. But both of them were distracted by the market around the corner. Then we passed a girl playing on a retro version of Pac-Man. And somehow she was stuck. My flatmate stayed behind to help her. I carried on, with urgency, towards our goal.
Eventually, after much searching, I found the hotel. I checked in and found my way to the room, hoping my flatmate would catch up. He did… but not the right flatmate. The other knocked on my door, smiling, and tried to settle on the second bed.
“Oh,” I said. “Have you not got another room…?” He looked surprised that I hadn’t taken into consideration that he might be joining our party. I started unpacking my bag, putting down numerous books I had no idea why I’d packed.
The rest of our group found us, just as it was time to leave. Of course, they were reluctant, but we were running late.
And so began the search for the airport. We had an hour before our flight, which was bad. I wasn’t even sure they’d still let us on. We finally got out of the storage yard, and came across a little tent on a hill. Sat outside was a large man with an even larger beard, and inside the tent was a young woman.
We sat inside the tent for a little while, chatting to the woman. My flatmate took a shine to her. The tent itself was filled with everything musical; gramophones and instruments of various sizes. One of the LPs nearest to me was a harpist by the name of Eva Reich. I put two and two together, and figured this was the woman stood before us.
And then I remembered why we were there. I asked them where the airport was, and they pointed down the hill to a huge, ugly building in the distance. We thanked them, and set off.
It was clear we were now in Belgium, despite setting off from Britain and hoping to get to France. We ran down the hill with our suitcases in tow, and it was great fun. Our group had grown even bigger since we’d set out as a two. There was now about seven of us.
At the bottom of the hill was a tree, and behind the tree was a pure white horse. Only when it turned its head towards us, we realised it wasn’t a horse at all, it was a unicorn. It grinned at us with scarily human teeth, and we saw that it clearly had something wrong with its face. Nevertheless, we carried on to the airport, now much closer than we thought it would be.
We reached a road that was perfect in every way. The houses on either side were like neat gingerbread houses, all pristine and lovely. Unfortunately, they were bordered by the airport. Inside the big building was modern and completely out of place from the outside scenery. However, they did have an amazing Belgian ice cream shop. My flatmate gazed with dribble down his chin in the window, as I tried in vain to pull him away for the flight leaving in ten minutes.
It was a very stressful night’s sleep.

The Party Dragon Dream

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It was my birthday. I woke up late and realised I’d missed half the day. I opened my curtains to see a dragon curled up in the garden. Not just any dragon though; Toothless. I gasped, and as I did so, he lifted his head and looked at me. He unfurled his mighty wings, got to his feet… and began stepping from side to side. He was dancing.
…It was then that I noticed it wasn’t really Toothless at all. It was a costume, and two familiar looking people were wearing it, flapping their arms about frantically to keep up the charade. Shame Toothless’ face was stuck in the same expression. But still, it was an impressive costume.
They seemed to notice I had discovered their presence, so they discarded the costume. Two friends of mine from a time long since passed, here to celebrate my birthday. It didn’t matter that the Toothless wasn’t real. I had started to believe in magic once again.
I raced downstairs to thank them, and look at the costume in more detail. The head was expertly carved, but from close up the paintwork was a little shabby. As I picked it up, the paint smeared a little on the ears. They had finished it recently then.
After spending a while on the trampoline, we went out on a night on the town. It was raining and cold, but that couldn’t dampen my spirits. Then suddenly, inexplicably, I was naked, surrounded by a crowd of people, and a police officer (clearly American by the uniform) was trying to slap handcuffs on me.
I pointed at a random man I’d been walking with, and said, “it was his fault!” He looked taken aback. Somehow, this was enough of an alibi for public indecency for the officer, who gave up on the cuffs and instead threw a large towel in my direction. Gratefully, I wrapped it round myself.
To be honest, I’ve had better birthdays.

#FP Reflections Of Self Destruction

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I’ve only just realised there are optional themes for each Friday Phrase! I really should read more…
..So these past couple of weeks I’ve been sticking to the themes – ‘Reflections’ and ‘The Sky Is Falling.’ I had quite a lot of fun with it, actually. I tend to write better if I have constrictions. Complete freedom is too… well… free! Anyways, here we go:

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Follow me at @ClaireBearKH 🙂

The Animal Doctor Dream

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“Come on,” he assured me. “It’ll be fine.”
I wasn’t so sure the “WARNING, KEEP OUT” sign agreed with him, but I followed him nevertheless. We crept through a hole in the wall, to find a large enclosed area. I saw an old man in a lab coat, trying to coax something out of the ground.
I tried to stay hidden in the shadows, but the person I was with simply walked out to meet the man. They shook hands.
Clearly, he’d done this before.
This man was trying to get the badgers to emerge from their hiding place amongst the concrete wreckage. He told us to hide and stay quiet, but to watch. Eventually, after a couple of minutes, the first snout popped out of the hole. It sniffed the air, deemed it safe, and seemed to spread the word with his fellow badgers.
Five or six of them surrounded the man, and he proceeded to check them over, feed them milk, and then play with them as if they were dogs. It was amazing to watch. So amazing, in fact, that we decided to go again the next night.
This time there were no badgers. This time he was checking over the bunnies. A similar pattern occurred with them; we hid, they came out, the man fed and played with them. I’d never seen animals behave like this. This guy was clearly a real life Doctor Dolittle.
After that, we persuaded him to go public. Eventually he built a little shop, and hired me as his assistant. One night, a man came in wearing a shell suit and a beanie hat. His eyes darted around and he stank of something stronger than cigarettes. He had dodgy written all over him.
He came to my till, and placed a packet of mints on the counter. He certainly needed them. He paid the pound and turned to leave. But before he did, he walked over to the cigarette counter and took a pack of 100 cigarettes from right behind the Doctor’s head.
Then he ran. I chased him to the door, and watched as he stopped outside the taxi rank just down the road from us, and I told someone in the shop. They legged it after him, and came back with the man’s card in the card machine. He had paid the £140 for the cigarettes. Guess he lost his nerve.