Coffee Helps

12.30am. I’m curled up on the sofa, where I’ve been for somewhere between 7 hours and a year, engrossed in the new Harry Potter book.

You still up?

The text is from Dirk. Dragged back to reality, I hear voices outside, and when I go to the door I am greeted by Dirk and Fisherboy, a sharp stick, and a pair of rubber gloves. “Have you got a spade?” inquires Fisherboy, casually. “And a flashlight?” They gaze at me in the manner of people who see nothing unusual about going to someone’s door in the middle of the night, carrying a stick and a pair of rubber gloves, and requesting a spade and a flashlight.

The world of wizardry, goblins, Horcruxes and Hallows vanishes like a house elf Disapparating. I stare at them in horror. “Who have you killed?” Dirk looks blankly at me. Fisherboy rolls his eyes, in a “we’ve got far more important things to do” kind of way. “We’ve got a hedgehog!” he informs me. “We’re trying to find it some worms to eat.” They continue to gaze expectantly at me as my brain struggles to adapt to this new form of reality.

“Have you got a spade and a flashlight?” finishes Fisherboy. I look helplesssly at Dirk, but find no faint glimmer of sense or sanity in his eyes. ”No,” I reply, weakly. “Neither?” asks Dirk. “Neither,” I agree. I am invited in next door to inspect the new housemate. Bemused, and still clutching my mug of coffee, I follow. Clearly, they have taken leave of their senses. As I enter the house, I see that they are not the only ones. Jay is lying on the floor, nose-to-nose with a surprised-looking womble. E2 is flapping a tea-towel around in self-defence. “I don’t like this thing any more,” she says in a hurt voice. “It attacked me.”

“His name is Joel,” says Fisherboy, proudly.

“Ohmigosh here’s a freakin’ centipede under the chair, dude!” exclaims Dirk, dropping to his knees. The unfortunate “centipede” (approx. 1cm) is lifted and placed in front of Joel, who completely ignores it. “Eat the centipede, man!” says Dirk, encouragingly.

“He’ll like this song,” says Jay, fiddling with the CD player. He selects a cheerful, summery track and looks expectantly at the hedgehog.

“Oh!” yelps E2 excitedly from behind the laptop (“Hedgehog Facts” – Google). “He eats mushrooms! We have mushrooms!” She runs from the room and returns with a large mushroom, breaking it into pieces and placing them in front of the womble. It shows complete indifference.

We watch the hedgehog.

The hedgehog sits on the rug.

“He smells bad,” observes Jay.

“They also eat small birds,” interjects E2, helpfully. “And frogs.”

“Let’s give it a frog and see what it does!” suggests Fisherboy, interestedly. I protest strongly, my feelings about frogs having recently become rather sensitive and protective. The matter is dropped.

Joel ambles towards Dirk, who lifts him in rubber-gloved hands and turns him around again. He has a small piece of mushroom on the end of one of his spikes.

Jay selects a different CD in the hope that it will be more acceptable to the hedgehog.

We watch the hedgehog.

The hedgehog sits on the rug.

“How to clean your hedgehog,” says E2, after a long pause. “One: sprinkle water over his back. Two: Using a toothbrush…”

I leave. Harry Potter is much more realistic than next door.

Filed under: animal cruelty, boys, confusion, conversations, friends, frogs, Harry Potter, hedgehogs, sheer silliness, weird