Robin Rare Five:Mind Games

By Benjamin Timothy Dyer

(c)opyright 2005

THE MORNING AFTER.

Robin Rare laid out in his string vest and ‘Y' fronts a contented man. The days had passed by ever so quickly and in what had seemed a whirlwind year he was still in his job at the ‘Nut Cracker Suite Mental Institute'; named after a famous ballerina who spent the remaining years prancing around to that tune while bouncing off padded cell walls. Robin had watched his chickens grow up and leave the nest; council eviction order sorted that one out along with Marie.

Now? What about now? Oh yes he was married, yes married. No really! she married him in a tiny back street registry office with two witnesses. No, hold on that was Las Vegas, oh yes he thought he was going on holiday for a weekend and ended up getting married in a smelly church full of drunken people or others who's wife to be look as if they had eaten too many of those eat all you can breakfasts you get out there.

She had turned out to be his lucky charm, not only had he kept his job at the aforementioned institute, he had his own business. She was the wind between his sheets, no that was a stomach upset last night, no she was the wind beneath his wings.

The lady of his life came floating in as if on air and stood before him wearing very little.

“I have something special for you, which I want to give to you now.” She took her dressing gown off allowing it to slide very softly to the floor.

Robin stiffened up as he saw her goods. “Wow! Not the limited edition Mallard from Hornby. How did you know?”

She held out the small train in a fancy box and gave it to him. “Probably the way you drawled over the train collector monthly which sits in it's pride of place by the toilet.”

“Ah.” Robin made his noise as he had to confess here. “Those are urine stains, where I kept missing. But you are quite right, I wanted this train so badly as it is a limited edition.”

Marie smiled, she had gotten used to Rare's way of doing things whether hygienic or as in the very often stakes...not.

“I'll just put it in the cabinet with the others. Wow the Mallard.” Then he froze. “But I haven't got you anything.”

Marie grinned. “Just give me your attention span for a few minutes and that will be fine.”

Thirty seconds later they got ready for work.

Robin's shift was set to be an early one and so with only one car he did the thing a gentleman would do...

“Honey leave the car and take the bike. You did promise.”

Robin stared up at his wife as she leaned out of the bedroom window in this block of flats.

“Of course dear, I was just going to find my cycling glasses, those prescription ones.”

“They are still at the opticians being mended, use your ordinary ones.”

That was all well and said, but they had the habit of slipping off and his eyes always ran with water when riding his pedal bike. But alas, with his motor bike off the road due to a seized engine he had to pedal for it.

“Just great, I can never see where I am going, watery eyes and all that,” he mumbled as he pulled out his cycling clips and went to the garage to collect the bicycle.

The trip started off okay, until his eyes started to water and his lightweight framed glasses kept wanting to take off against the wind. So tucking them away he found blurred vision driving to be in his mind the next dangerous sport for the young. Alas he made it to work on time by simply cycling through red lights, over a small dog and child and finally finding of all the luckiest spot on the institute grounds; a place to park his bike, he just slotted it into one of those concrete cycle tyre holders and walked off. Little did he know that because of a lack of clear vision he had slotted the front tyre between a rather large ladies buttocks as she bent over trying to retrieve her dropped pen.

DOWN IN THE MORGUE .

Down in the dungeons of the institute held the morgue, the place of the silent and still.

“Stiffed me you did, didn't you mister Haynes. Not anymore, now who's the one who is stiff.” Ray Baxter laughed as he played with the body of a man who had owed him big time. Still no chance of getting that money back now.

“Hello Ray, you wanted to see me.” Robin asked as he came into this rather odd room full of coffin's stood up with lids attached onto them. He often wondered if the dead were in each one and stood to attention.

“Heard you are married now?”

“Yes to Marie.” Robin replied as he shuffled up towards the table where a former insane man lay.

“Just trying out the coffin for size.” Ray added as he got out.

“Keeping well are we?”

“Oh yes, the tablets help, oh and the company of the silent. They can listen for hours you know and never complain about my ramblings.”

“I can imagine. So what do you want to see me about?” Robin asked again as the cold room sent a chill down his neck and on into and down his spine.

“Where did you pop the question?”

Robin stared hard at the fellow as his eyes magnified through his glasses tried to focus on the question. “Pop the question?”

“Wooed the girl, made her yours, as in proposed.”

“Oh! At the Grande pizza palace, former palace of course.”

“Ah yes it burnt down didn't it.”

Robin sighed. “Yes, it wasn't my fault, even the judge said that.”

“Oh yeah, not what the papers said though.”

“All I did was kneel down to propose. Little did I know that the tables were so closely stacked together that I flicked a knife with my elbow which was on the edge of our table. This flew off stabbing a waiter in the leg causing him to tip his tray. This had a bottle of the finest wine which fell to the floor causing a man carrying a dessert tray full of flambaid cherries to slip and throw the whole lot over a set of big red curtains. The curtains in turn were cheap polyester and went up rather quickly. The whole thing was so romantic, I slipped the ring on her finger as the light our love fanned the flames of the restaurant. Burnt down in minutes, though our love is still glowing.”

“I'd love to have been there, anyone die in the end?”

Robin screwed up his already wrinkled face in disgust. “No one died. So no measuring up for you.”

“Darn it! I love fitting corpses out.”

“Not the only time I managed to embarrass myself in public.”

“I'm sure that's not the case.” Ray replied as he went about checking the lining for flaws. Not that it mattered, the whole thing was going to be burnt in a matter of hours anyway.

“Do you remember that show Blockbusters with Bob, I think his name was Holden.”

Ray frowned. “Nah.”

“Oh, it was a long time ago in a galaxy of black and white viewing, all going brown with age around the edges; kids show of the eighties.” He still received a blank look so carried on with his tale of woe.

“I was invited to go on there with a fellow school member. I can recall being nervous and standing there next to my female egghead of an opponent. I was so nervous that I drank a whole two bottles of lemonade. On hindsight that wasn't a good idea as it gave me a sugar rush, I couldn't stop wriggling around.”

“Then what happened?”

“Bob introduced me as the new challenger and gave me first shout. What with the sugar and the mix of loads of liquids I needed to go somewhere and do something. He asked me what letter I was going for, I replied I need a pee please Bob. While he was looking for a ‘P', I was doing one all over the stage floor. Trouble was it ran in the general direction of my opponent who shrieked and in her desperate attempt to flee the sweet smelling odour she knocked her microphone stand over.”

“And?”

“And as it went over it hit the lemon smelling fluid and gave the poor girl an electric shock. Also unknown to us the fluid took another sinister turn and headed towards the big board with all those lighted letters on it.”

“And?”

“It caught alight. The whole studio went up in minutes. Bob's hair was aflame as he was using loads of hair spray to keep it all under control. The girl was dragged out of there and ended up scarred for life and in a mental hospital. I was cleared in court due to lack of health and safety grounds. Lucky for me an electrician was found to have not wired a plug properly.”

“So, you burnt that place down as well?”

“Almost if it wasn't for the gallant fire fighters. I must be an unknown pyromaniac.”

“Well nothing to set alight down here and as for killing anyone, there's only me. Though on hindsight I don't feel the cold, so I could be dead as well.”

Robin took this in deciding the guy wasn't dead. He asked the same question he had been asking since he came in here. “What did you want to see me about?”

“Give us a hand with this one will you?”

Robin didn't much like handling the dead, but had to do it on many occasions.

“I would do it myself, but my back is out and I feel as stiff as a board this morning.” Ray added and whilst looking at Rare holding the other end he said; “Though not as stiff as this chappie though.”

“So what do you want to see me about? It cannot be to just aid passed away loved ones into their coffins.”

“Ah no.” He looked down at the dead guy and spoke to it. “Ah stop telling me to ask the question.” Reaching down he picked up the lid. “Now put a lid on it will you, oh I already am literally doing so, now shut up.”

As the lid closed upon the formerly active patient who used to be obsessed with chasing the lady members of staff, trying to lift up their skirts. Sad day for him when the nurses changed to trousers. Still there was that Scotsman with the kilt, he had a shock, oh and so did Hector.

“That shut him up.” Robin added to the comedy of in his mind sick jokes. Then he asked for the final time. “So what...”

“You have started up a business I hear.”

Robin stopped his thoughts and got the gist of where this conversation was going. Not that it had deviated much from the land of the non-living.

“Yes, Marie set it up.”

“How does it work, is it much like this I am doing now?”

“Ah it is, with a twist. Our motto is, ‘let's put the fun back into funeral'.”

Ray frowned as he screwed down the brass fixings. “How can a funeral be fun?”

“Ah, you see we dress the deceased in clothes and wigs, or their own hair into the style of their favourite actor, actress, pop star or idol.”

Ray leaned on the coffin and tapped the lid as if pointing to the guy inside. “Say like old skirt lifter here wanted to be buried as Elvis Presley, you would dress him up as the king himself.”

“Yes. Then he would be paraded down the isle for all to pay their last respects.” Robin pulled a long face. “Bit sick, but seems to be the trend lately. A kind of fond memory of the one they love doing or being someone they always wanted to be like.”

“And this is going well?” Ray pulled a cloth out and gave the coffin an extra polish.”

“What do you use on the coffin to keep it tip top for the funeral?” Robin asked as he watched Ray clean the finger prints off.

“Just a proper bees wax polish.”

“Good choice. I used one of those silicone sprays once; disastrous funeral, as the bearers couldn't get a proper grip and the coffin and on eight occasions it fell to the floor. The last time the body spilled out and stood upright to the shouts from one of the party; “Look Lazarus has been raised from the dead.” Bad day that was, especially as he was dressed as Lazarus, though we had got it wrong and he was meant to be the lead singer from that old heavy rock group.”

“So who are the most popular choices at the moment?”

“Prince Charles for the men.” Robin replied as he looked at Ray noting as he was getting older his ears were changing.

“How come?”

“Well, I don't know if you have noticed this, but when men get old their ears increase in size. This causes most familles to make the decision of Prince Charles as the most fitting in the big ears department, oh apart from Big Ears from the Noddy books of course.”

“What about women?”

“I can't say I look about me now, being married.” Robin quipped.

“No, I mean who do they like to dress up as the most.”

“Marilyn Monroe. Though I do try and steer them away from her famous scene; where she's wearing that white dress and the warm air from the tube train raises her skirt. Though most people say their beloved old lady would like to go that way.”

“What's the problem with that?”

Robin swallowed hard before replying. “Old ladies suffer from sagging chests. You try fitting a pair of easterly and westerly southern facing breasts into a flimsy white dress. That is a challenge in itself; especially as you keep having to lift the poor deceased back up to free them first off. Still, we found car filler, the fibreglass kind as a good undercover supportive in those occasions; stops them popping out.”

Ray thought about this all, while wondering if to ask would be the thing to do. Then again he did it all of the time here, except the dressing up in fancy clothing.

“I was wondering if you could do with a pair of extra hands.”

Robin stood back! “I'm not into dismembered bodies that really is sick!”

“No Rare! My hands as in help you out.”

“Oh, I see, sorry.”

Ray wiped his forehead with the cloth feeling the soothing bees wax calm him down. He liked bees wax, it was the calming Yang to his raging Ying.

“Sure! Marie would love to have you aboard, I take it, that it is to cover the graveyard shift, as you work here in the afternoons?”

Actually he wanted mornings, but heck nights would be fine. “Sure, as long as I don't have to literally work in a graveyard.”

“No chance of that, I wouldn't be caught there myself.” Robin joked before adding; “Give Marie a call and she will get you started.” He shook hands with the guy and left via the dark brown wooden door, which led him to a very dark and claustrophobic room. He heard a voice calling out to him in the darkness.

“Robin, hey Rare! That's a coffin, the proper door is to your right.”