10 Things That Never Happened (Material World #1)

by Alexis Hall

“Whether candy canes are American,” I explain. “Super American,” Tiff agrees. “They’re super American even if they technically come from twelfth-century Bavaria or something.”

Because there’s something about fast food chicken places that mean you have to have a corn on the cob, just like you have to have candy canes at Christmas.

“He’s conscious,” she tells somebody I can’t focus on, “and responsive to pain but can’t answer simple questions.” My teachers used to say that in school as well.

For once I agree with him—a live alligator would be more suitable than Jonathan Forest—except also, there sort of isn’t. It’s just me.

Meanwhile I’m stuck with Jonathan Forest and he’s stuck with me and I’m not sure which of us is more fucked off about it.

I’m sure there is, somewhere in the world, a man who drives a BMW and is not a bellend but I’ve not met him. The thing about a Beamer is that it’s the car you get if you really want to be driving a full-on-midlife-crisis-cock-on-wheels but you’re too insecure to own it.

To his credit, Jonathan looks the teeniest bit ashamed. Because, when you get right down to it, a truly great boss doesn’t chase his employees into shower units and land them up in hospital.

“I’ve got a housekeeper.” “Well, if they have to use that thing you should give them a pay raise.”

“Oh my God. Are you actually trying to get him to sexually harass you?”

Okay, he didn’t knock me exactly, I more sort of tripped while he was nearby, but that’s a detail for another time.

For a while, Claire is silent. Then at last she says, “That doesn’t sound like very much of a plan.” “Well.” I try to be lighthearted. “I’m in his house now so in a pinch I can still kill him with a toilet seat if I have to.”

“Claire, can you feed my fucking cat?” “Sure, I’ll just drive around Sheffield, breaking into houses until I find one with a cat in it that looks hungry.” “I’ll give you the address.” “Will you give me a key? Will you ring your neighbours and say, hi, if you see a tiny angry lesbian crawling through my front window, don’t worry, she’s just there for the cat.”

Brian is the living embodiment of the before part of a corporate training video.

find a picture of me and Gollum, which is what the cat’s called because when your mam calls you Samwise you just have to own it—

“I’m sure”—he’s trying to be patient, bless him; actually no, don’t bless him, fuck him—“the cat will be fine.” Gollum is not going to be fine.

That is the face of a man who loves his cat.” Jonathan’s eyes flick from me to the phone back to me. “I’m not sure it’s the face of a cat who loves his man.”

Somehow, Gollum has developed at least six extra paws and he’s swinging them all over the place like a lad who’s had one too many bevvies on a Saturday night.

It mostly goes okay, apart from the help-I’m-being-murdered noises, except he manages to get one paw sticking out the end like he’s in Jurassic Park and he’s just been dragged into the velociraptor enclosure.

he looks out with huge eyes that say “I will never forgive you for this. My descendants shall haunt your descendants to the end of time and their vengeance shall be legendary.”

Gollum keeps cursing us with his eyes.

“What’s it doing?” “Scent marking. He owns you now.” “He does not.” “You’ll have to take that up with him.”

Then he turns and strides off to his study and Gollum, showing a worrying lack of taste for a creature I thought I could trust, runs right after him.

With Gollum right there he looks like an actual supervillain.

Once somebody’s brung up skull-bleeding, it has a tendency to end the conversation.

“My mother wants me to host Christmas this year.” I mock-tsk. “What a bitch.”

“I’ve got a housekeeper. I don’t need a wife as well.”

“Unfortunately, as we’ve established, I’ve got no food and if we arrange a delivery, it won’t get here until at least tomorrow.” I’m not letting him off that easily, especially because now I’m seeing a chance to get out and stretch my legs. “Y’know, I’ve heard rumours that there’s these magic buildings where you go in, and you give them money, and they give you groceries.”

Turns out, going to a supermarket is like wiping your arse. You mostly do it alone so you assume everyone does it the same way you do, but there’s actually a surprising amount of variation. I think I picked up my habits from my mam. She’d go in with a good sense of what she was after but mostly she’d wander up and down, looking for bargains and that. Jonathan seems to have got his habits from movies about people escaping from prisoner of war camps in World War II. Plan the whole thing in advance, stay close, don’t talk, don’t get distracted, and get out as fast as you can.

LMAO

“What are your thoughts on parsnips?” “I thought they went downhill after their third album. What do you mean, what are my thoughts on parsnips? I don’t have thoughts on parsnips. Who has thoughts on parsnips? Who has time to have thoughts on parsnips?”

This is the level of sassy man I need in my life

“How about runner beans?” “Are you going to do this for every vegetable in the shop?”

I find him in pets looking at cat treats. And when he spots me, he gets this expression on his face like I caught him with porn. “I thought you’d be longer,” he says. “You told me to be quick.” “Yes, but I didn’t think you’d listen.”

I do sometimes worry that he’s a serial killer, but I figure I can quit if I ever have to clean up any limbs.” “I’m pretty sure he’s not a serial killer.” “How would you know?” she asks. “You’ve got amnesia.”

“I’m very sorry, cat.” “His name’s Gollum.” “I’m very sorry, Gollum. I’m sure you’re a very good cat even if you’re riddled with toxoplasmosis.”

“You missed your calling as a storyteller, Sam.” I get a strong sense she’s being sarcastic.

Somehow I missed the day in school where they taught you what to do when you were living in your boss’s house faking amnesia and his whole family showed up and decided you were his secret boyfriend but didn’t feel comfortable admitting it to them.

Horrible day to miss as I am sure you now see, Sam. How rude of you to miss such an important day (tsk tsk)

“You can’t be humping turkeys around all day when you’re eighty.”

Noted

“However”—Auntie Jack blows the kind of smoke ring you can only blow with fifty years of practice—“he has now clarified that you’re just good friends and we of course believe him entirely.”

I’m about to say that I don’t feel he’s representing my position in a totally accurate manner, but I only get as far as “um”.

My roast chicken is sitting on the side looking all sorry for itself. And in a lot of ways, I know how it feels.

You’re just hiding.” “I am not hiding.” “You’ve shut yourself in a room alone with a cat. That’s hiding.”

And maybe it’s just because I gave him chicken, but this time Gollum comes with me.

But my third thought is burglars. And it’s probably not burglars. In fact, it’s almost certainly not burglars. But there’s this little voice in my head saying it’s burglars that won’t shut up.

But I do know one chicken sandwich isn’t enough to convince me everything’ll be hunky-dory from here on in. And even now I’m not quite sure what would be.

What can I say? I like my men like I like my employment prospects: rough and hairy.

But I know what Christmas is and I know what parties are, so if you need a Christmas party organised, I don’t think my memory’s particularly important.”

“She thinks you’re the kind of person who would be a serial killer. That suggests to me you might have a bit of an image problem.” “Serial killers can be extremely charismatic.”

“Shut up and finish your chicken.” “Excuse me, I’m your boss.” “Shut up and finish your chicken, sir.”

Somehow, I don’t stab him with a fork. Partly because there isn’t a fork.

But Jonathan’s ignoring me in favour of falling for Gollum’s oh woe is me, I shall die if I do not eat at once act.

This would almost be a tender, nostalgic moment except Jonathan Forest isn’t a tender or nostalgic person and Gollum has his face in a bowl of Fancy Feast’s natural white meat chicken and liver plus a touch of coconut milk cat food and is making a noise like when you suck up a wet cloth with a hoover.

Dang it Gollum, you are ruining the moment