Chapter One Humps
Chapter One
Humps
‘You do realise they look like plucked chickens, don’t you?’
I give my girlfriend a look. ‘They’re dinosaurs.’
‘Yes. I can see that, but you can’t deny their resemblance to barnyard fowl, which have very unfortunately been standing in a force 10 hurricane.’
I roll my eyes.
Having a stand-up comedian for a girlfriend has its benefits, but it also very much has its drawbacks.
Annie has a way with words that gets right to the heart of the matter – in the most amusing way possible.
To her, anyway. I’ve discovered this over the three months we’ve been seeing each other now.
I look down at the selection of Compsognathus models I’ve hired for the party (and try saying that fast after you’ve had a couple).
They do indeed look like chickens. I should have checked the size properly before I ordered them from Prop World.
They looked impressive in the photos, but they also looked like they were six feet tall.
They are most resolutely not six feet tall.
They barely come up to my knee. I’ll have to send a friendly email to Prop World to expound on the virtues of including measurements in their adverts.
I asked for the dinosaurs to be placed close to the lanes that we have hired for Teddy’s birthday, figuring they’d look dead scary and cool.
But the only scary thing about them is that they are a trip hazard.
Still, the animatronic velociraptor over in the corner has worked out much better – as have the Jurassic Park-themed bunting, the film music being piped through the PA system and the two poor jobbing actors both dressed up as a T-Rex.
This is the most Jurassic Park a place has looked since they were filming Jurassic Park. Steven Spielberg would feel right at home.
All of this has been made possible thanks to the fact that four years ago I got Mega Lanes back on its feet with a marketing campaign and series of free experience days that I’m still extremely proud of.
Maurice owed me big time. This is the repayment.
. . . I just wish it didn’t involve chickens masquerading as dinosaurs.
‘Don’t make that face,’ Annie says. ‘He’ll love everything you’ve done.’
I point down at the nearest dinochicken. ‘Yeah, but . . .’
‘Yeah, but nothing. One little cock-up doesn’t matter at all. You need to stop being such a perfectionist.’
‘But I wanted everything to be perfect.’
‘Everything is perfect,’ she replies, giving me a hug. ‘You’ve done brilliantly. Thank you.’
I smile and give her a kiss. This still feels like such a privilege to do in a public place.
I know she’s right. I’m sure Teddy will have a lovely time.
But . . . those dinochickens will plague me for the rest of the day, until the guy from Prop World comes to collect them later, along with all the other stuff I’ve hired.
‘Didn’t know they had chickens in the Jurassic era,’ a voice says from behind us. I turn to see Maurice waddling over from the reception counter, surveying all of my efforts at turning this corner of the bowling alley into something Jeff Goldblum could be proud of.
I roll my eyes. ‘They’re Compgonarthus,’ I tell him sagely – and incorrectly.
‘Bless you,’ he responds, and looks about himself. ‘Great job you’ve done here, Charlie. As always.’
‘Thank you,’ I reply, deliberately not looking down at the dinochickens.
Maurice looks at his watch. ‘So, I can give you two hours with the music playing, but I’ll have to go back to the regular stuff after that.
’ He makes a face as he says this. Maurice is forty-seven years old and about two concession-stand hot dogs away from a coronary.
Pop music designed to appeal to ‘the youth’ is not his thing.
But endless Oasis and Ned’s Atomic Dustbin would no doubt drive the customers away, so he has to put up with it.
‘No trouble,’ I say. ‘Annie’s nephew and the rest of the guests will be here in about five or ten minutes, and I’m sure most of the actual bowling with be done after two hours.
No problems if not, though. We won’t need the music any longer.
’ I fix Maurice with a look a drill sergeant would be proud of.
‘As long as things are the way I’ve asked them to be when Teddy comes in, that’s the main thing.
First impressions are the best impressions! ’
‘Alright, alright,’ Annie chides me gently. ‘Leave poor Maurice alone. Teddy is an eight-year-old boy, not the CEO of a company. You’re not at work now.’
Maurice laughs. ‘Isn’t he? This place is almost as decked out as it was when he did the relaunch.’
‘There are less Marvel superheroes this time around,’ I point out.
I themed that event around the always popular characters of Marvel Comics.
They certainly brought in the crowds the way I hoped they would.
Iron Man pretty much saved Maurice’s bacon that day – which is something Robert Downey Jr would probably be as proud of as Jeff Goldblum would be about what I’ve done here today.
‘But there are a lot more plucked chickens,’ Annie says, unable to resist getting the joke in. I feel like if we have a future together, this will be the story of my life.
And I do so want that to be the story of my life . . .
Maurice laughs again, before patting me on the back – and going off to busy himself with something that’s no doubt very important to the continued efficient functioning of the bowling alley.
I look at my watch. It’s 3.54 p.m. People should be arriving right about now.
. . . and would you look at that! Here is Annie’s sister, Jude – with a very excited-looking Teddy in tow. He’s practically pulling his mother through the bowling alley entrance.
I wonder if I have time to hide the dinochickens before they get over here?
I did not have time. But it didn’t seem to matter, anyway.
Teddy was absolutely delighted with everything, which made my heart sing.
His little blond mop of unruly hair bounced around happily as he jumped between the different elements I’d brought together to turn Mega Lanes into a tiny slice of a Steven Spielberg movie.
A movie that Teddy has now watched about forty times, I’m led to believe.
He was particularly enamoured with the two guys in the giant, bulgy inflatable T-Rex costumes. Which I knew he would be. They look altogether far too ridiculous not to be of supreme entertainment value to an eight-year-old boy.
Jude and Annie had to prise him away from them both, just so he could go and say hello to the other guests as they arrived at the party.
I am delighted to see how Annie lights up when her nephew is happy, and I’m just as pleased that Jude seems to have taken a liking to me as well, thanks to all of my efforts. A sister’s approval can be very important for a new relationship.
With Jude’s say-so, I’d invited a total of nine other couples to the event, including the parents of many of Teddy’s friends from school – as well as my best friend’s kid, who Teddy has got to know because they coincidentally go to the same school.
Having Jack at the party, with his ball of energy Tyler, is a nice little confidence boost for me.
It’s great to have someone here I know well.
To my surprise, Jack has dragged my other best friend, Leo, along with him, who we’ve both known since college. It’s lovely to see Leo out and about, to be honest. It’s something of a rarity these days.
They make a right pair together, my best friends. One looks like he’s just come out of a mosh pit, and the other couldn’t do scruffy if you put a gun to his head.
‘You look knackered,’ Jack remarks with a grin as he watches Tyler run over to start harassing one of the T-Rexes with Teddy. ‘As usual.’
‘Sod off,’ I say with good-natured derision, keeping my voice down. Swearing and small children really shouldn’t mix.
‘Charming,’ Jack says, before hooking a thumb in Leo’s direction. ‘I managed to drag him out for once. Something of a miracle.’
Leo gives me a slightly unsure smile. ‘He pretty much bullied me into it.’
‘No, I didn’t,’ Jack snorts. ‘And it’s nice to see you out and about in public. Isn’t it, Charlie?’
I nod and smile. ‘Yep, it certainly is.’
‘I hope it’s okay, mate,’ Jack says. ‘I know you’re still in full-on “making a good impression mode” with your new squeeze, and having your dumb-arse mates here could put a dampener on that.’
I wave a hand. ‘Nah. You’re fine. Just don’t start telling her any stories about what we got up to at university.’ I make a face. ‘She does not need to know about Marita the Maniac.’
My friends’ eyes go wide with recognition.
‘No. She really doesn’t need to know about that,’ Leo says with a smile.
Jack looks over at where the crowd is gathered around the four bowling lanes Maurice has provided me with for today’s entertainment. ‘Good set-up as usual, Charlie,’ he remarks.
‘Thanks very much.’ I always feel incredibly proud of myself when Jack approves of something I’ve done.
But then his brow knits, and I know what he’s going to say before it comes out of his mouth. ‘But why are there a load of bloody plucked chickens over there? Are they food for the dinosaurs?’
The next two hours of my life are pretty much par for the course at events like this. I’ve been to so many of them now, I think I could co-ordinate them in my sleep.
I can never say that I particularly enjoy them myself, but as long as everybody else does, I’m more than happy. I get to have fun when it’s all over, when I can have a drink somewhere warm and quiet.
You’d think there wouldn’t be all that much to actually organise at this event, now that everyone is ensconced in their respective bowling lanes, having got the business of the hellos out of the way.
But in my experience, any time you get a dozen or more human beings together in one place and time, there’s always going to be something that needs arranging, fixing or changing.
No matter how well organised you’ve been beforehand.