Postcards from the Puckmobile – three.

NO

SHORT

CUT

“That's enigmatic... a metaphor for life.” I thought.

Whatever it was though, it would definitely be too easy to see it as a sign. So easy that here I was driving down a ridiculously narrow road to God knows where or what; and all because Luna had reasoned, using her cat logic, that if someone had bothered to point out that there was NO short cut then there probably was.

“But a short cut to what?” I asked, wishing I had variable speeds on the wipers – the rain was coming down heavier than ever.

“How should I know?” Luna replied. “I’m only a kitten; it’s not as if I have buckets of life experience. In life experience terms it’s all pretty much eating, sleeping, chasing bees, and litter trays at the moment. Why do you think I came on this trip with you? I need to broaden my horizons.”

There was no answering that. So instead I concentrated on the road ahead which was getting narrower and narrower, more overgrown and muddy, with every thwump of the wiper blades.

“Where is this taking us?” I mumbled.

“Zzzzzzzzzzzzz” Luna replied. Well, there’s no bothering cats with detail.

The thing is I really don’t like short cuts. In my experience they don’t turn out to be short at all and usually lead you to somewhere that you don’t want to go. If I could have turned around I probably would have done; but the narrowness of the road (or track as it had become), the beating rain, the lack of any break in the wall of trees which surrounded us on both sides, and the fear that Luna would think me a ‘silly’ when she woke up made it impossible for me to take that course of action. So I simply drove on trusting that the short cut would take me somewhere despite that bloody enigmatic sign declaring that it wouldn’t.

What had the sign said? It seemed that underneath the uppermost legend another instruction was etched – ‘SPEED 20 LIMIT’ – so no short cut and keep your speed down… just where was this taking us?

It was at that point that I spied up ahead a break in the trees and a lightening of the gloom that we’d been travelling through since we turned off of the A556. Ah, the A556 - it almost seemed like a treasured dream now. Where had we been going? Oh yes, south - south to the sea and warmer climes; and where were we now? Travelling along some cat logic short cut that obviously wasn't, probably moving towards a locked gate that would lead to a muddy field and a mountain of cow pats. Still there was no turning back now.

As I drove out of the tunnel of trees and into the light I remember thinking that it looked like the rain might be stopping and my heart lifted just a few inches from the basement to where it had descended.  Yes, there was definitely sunshine up ahead - and could I smell the smoke of logs burning in an open fire?

It was then that the Puckmobile decided to get into trouble as he skidded in the mud and stuck himself in a ditch. Maybe this wasn’t going to be a short cut after all, maybe we were already fucked - and me only six or seven miles from home.

“Cat logic indeed.” I hissed at Luna through clenched teeth; thinking that I might just turn back and give up my dream as a really bad job, resell the Puckster on Autotrader at a loss (if necessary) and spend the rest of my days farting in my easy chair - Parp!

“Are we there yet?” She replied, stretching herself in the sunshine and yawning; displaying her sharp kitten teeth.

“I rather think that you are.” Said a voice from above..

WHO

SAID

THAT?