Spring poured in through the windows, yet no-one wanted to play with the moon-a-muck, all Cleopatra eyed and sad as sad can be on its purple velvet bed – stolen by Carina from a dog owning worthy in Mayfair after they left their door open to clear the room of the legacy of a “gift” left by their four legged delight. The same Carina was now running the flower stall on the Embankment today, while the Lady Alexia Laplace was making welding based repairs to the Poincare machine. Beyond the locked door, magnesium sparks illuminated the gaps round the frame in erratic crackling bursts.
Aristophanes was out, who knew where.
Bored, the moon-a-muck trundled across to a small box of crystals Alexia was making jewellery with. They were’t Alum, so they creature had little or no use for them. Instead, it rummaged with its nose trumpet into the box until it found a lump of liquid green peridot, the size of a golf ball. which it held in place with a constant inhalation.
It dropped it to the floor, before seeking out another crystal, this one of smokey yellow citrine which found a home next to the peridot. Finally, another snuffling sort out unearthed a huge amethyst nearly the size of a tennis ball.
With all these gems in a line, the moon-a-muck pondered momentarily, as yellow flashes lit up its dark dark eyes. Then, it snaffled up the peridot, and with a sharp “Hooo-eeee PHUT!” puffed it up into the air before catching it again with a sound like a cork being pulled from a bottle. The satisfaction evident in the extra-terrestrial’s eyes was evident. “Hooomp!” it said to itself. It then repeated the act with the crystal of citrine, caramel yellow comet lighting the sky from trumpet back to trumpet.
Finally the moon-a-muck eyed up the larger amethyst, glowing with the colour of empire, and chuckled to itself. “hoo-heee-hoo-eee-hooooooo”. Then it moved in…
….an hour or so later Lady Alexia Laplace of the auburn hair suddenly remembered her act of neglect, and shutting off her welding torch and pulling of her micah coated facemask, grabbed a handful of alum crystals and opened the door from the Poincare chamber into the large kitchen. And there, her elegant mouth dropped open in a most unladylike fashion, surprising for a lady who made her boiler suit look like the height of Ascot style.
For the moon-a-muck, perched upright on its stocky little hind legs, was spitting the three crystals into the air in turn before catching them back in its nose trumpet. And as it did so, the crystals actually flashed with inner light and left glowing paths in the air.
All the while, the moon-a-muck sang. “Hooo! Heeee! Haaaa! Hooo! Heee! Haaa!” as the crystals drew colours on the sky and even hummed in resonance with the creature’s song.
Catching a glimpse of Alexia, it didn’t stop, merely blew the three crystals higher above its head, and cheekily snorted an alum crystal out of her pretty hand before she could move.
Copyright Mulberry Lightning 13.05.15
When I’m short of inspiration, I can always imagine the moon-a-muck doing something.