as rats scurried from behind bins and rain fell, a groan was heard from beheath a pile of rubbish...

scrabbling between the litter a lonely man with a weathered face emerged..

holding a half empty tin of peaches and a clutching a pickaxe...

it's amazing what you find in bins these days he said, removing the thong from his tangled hair

the peaches shimmering under the streetlights were taking on a form all their own as he came around.

his thoughts turned from thongs into how the hell he came to be in this dank side street on a Friday evening in March 1973

...given that he was sure the previous night's party was on July 6th 1967... where had the 6 years gone in between?

concealing the pickaxe, the man turns bleary eyed towards the main street, the soft green glow from he casio watch.

He looked at the watch, bemused - what on earth is that? It looks like it's from... THE FUTURE!!

the man quickly ripped the watch from his arm casting it away as he stumbled onwards towards the lighting of the street..

how can it be? he was certain the time machine had malfunctioned... he decided to seek coffee and a newspaper...

he strode away from the watch with regret, glancing over his shoulder and remembering the inscription she had put on the back

knowing that it would be years before there was a Starbucks nearby.

perhaps the system had re-booted at the last minute after all, perhaps he really was a time bandit...

his feet were hurting. ..

he stumbled into a cafe on the corner of Herbert Street... 'strong black coffee' he growled

towards the unsuspecting waitress

'we haven't sold coffee here for years' she said with a surprised look

"not since the uprising"

he froze as he realised the cafe was packed. and all eyes were on him...

from behind the curtain came a stock gent who looked like a candidate for a russian shot putt team..

'Cynthia, is that you?'. He could barely believe it

the room goes deathly quiet, the borrowers run across the floor and vanish into a hole. a plate is dropped...

"I'm Clive now" she growled, like a butch woman, impersonating an effeminate man...

s/he gestured towards an empty booth and ordered 2 bloody marys 'you look like you need it' s/he whispered and laughed

by now the rain was falling like bullets from the grey midlands sky. They sat facing each other, waiting for the silence to be broken

"So, Cynt.... Clive, where have I been?? What's happened? I'm so confused"

'So what's been up with you Jonny?'. Clive was the first to fold... Jonny fidgeted and wondered how to answer that question...

"I was at the party... the one at your brother's place... and then...nothing..."

he wished he hadn't thrown his digital watch away... 'I'm so... disorientated right now'...

"You mean, you know nothing of the uprising, Jonny?" Cynthia looked shocked, and it wasn't just the badly plucked eyebrows

"uprising? What uprising? What are you talking about?? I don't remember anything from the last 6 YEARS!!"

"Oh Jonny... You're going to need another drink" mumbled Jonny's mannish companion

suddenly his pocket starts to vibrate and play noise in a god awful manner..

'what *is* that, Jonny?' his suprise at Clive not recognising 'Umbrella' by Rhianna turned to horror as he realised...

"I'm the only one here who knows about the time machine!" he mumbled, his inner monologue clearly damaged by the party

as he realized he was wearing

but he couldn't remember anything between the party at Cynthia's brother's and now... was it time travel, or a coma?

..and why was he wrapped in a St George's Flag??

"But I'm Scottish!!" thought Jonny...

a strange shady hooded character enters.. .

. . he is asking the locals for "the ring" the atmosphere shifts once again..

It's an Alabama State college basketball championship winners ring he thought. How did that get there?

. . he shivered. he hated that school.

He quickly looked out the window to double check which Birmingham he was in.

the room starts to spin, the voices blur. he hits the floor with a thud.

As if by magic, the shopkeeper appeared where he was led to a changing room

the changing room looked strangely familiar.

It was the same room he'd tried to nick a Sergio Tacchini shell suit when he was a teenager back in the 80's. He wished he could forget that

. .. he hears the stone roses playing on what seems to be some kind of futurstic grammerphone. where am i?

He wonders if he's wandered into an old episode of Sapphire & Steel...

and then he flashes to the year 2010 and realizes that...

he came out wearing his slippers and dressing gown.

... and reaches for the laudanum.

Suddenly, he hears voices.

"Kipper tie mate?", "No, I'll have a coffee." "O, r." He knew then which Birmingham he was in and felt scared

no time for fear now, he thought to himself. i have to keep my mind clear for the battle ahead.

He looked out of the window and thought "Well that brings a whole new meaning to to the phrase 'Broad Street'".

there on the street, bustling about were hundreds of supermodels.

Jonny realised that if this was actually just a dream he really needed to wake up out of it for the sake of his sanity

and so he slapped himself hard

and took a cold shower.

The cold shower revived him a little, although by now the rain was easing, delivering yellow sunshine to the grimy pavement

feeling rejuvinated, Jonny finished his bloody mary, nodded 'goodbye' to Clive and headed out onto the street.

which suddenly went hot...OUCH, turn that tap off he shouted

as for a moment he thought he was back in the shower

and made "hoppo" sound like "hippo", which was a shame.

but what was this? closer inspection of his digital watch revealed a set of co-ordinates inscribed on the back... the plot thickened...

... into a creamy paste which was quite tasty when mixed with cheese on crackers.

the spoon, i forgot the spoon he thought

then remembered he had a fork instead.

... which was attached to a pen knife that had a magnifying glass. With that, Jonny read the coordinates and was amazed to discover that...

they were the coordinates of his soon to be ex wifes home, the very place were she had shouted for all his friends & neighbors to hear...

you tried to nick a Sergio Tacchini shell suit when he was a teenager back in the 80's

and wondering if that "accident" in a time machine with a contraceptive had created as sort of inverse lagging effect

boots crunching in the gravel, a whiff of cigar smoke in the air, skin crawls

a man in a torn white coat appears

Jonny's portable sewing machine/ashtray combi and says "Can I borrow that?"

not knowing what else to do.. he hands to the man, who quickly...

relives himself taking a big sigh and cracking a smile as he does so..

revealing the cracked stined and uneven teeth of..

an ancient Beegee.

a life lived rough

He hated his gnashers, but always wanted to invent a toothpaste with the strapline of "say ta-ta to yer tartar" but never did. He saw...

the watch inscription, reminded of his quest... 52.038333,-4.578611 and hailed a passing cab

the power socket port openon his cheek

these damned butt cheek power sockets he thought

but was instantly reminded of their worth as he plugged in his ailing iPhone and watched the battery icon glow

and felt an uncontrollable urge to stick to his quest as though under control by some hidden hand or hands.

oh the glow... he smiled and...

took a deep breath as the cab driver asked 'where to mate?'

a realisation dropped into his head: twitter.com/wilstephens/...

but he brushed it off and replied 'head west'...

"That's probably for the best" said the cabbie.

It was then the sky opened up to reveal...

Jonny wondered whether this was the infamous rhyming cabbie of the west midlands and panicked as he remembered the stories...

of the scummy brummie

but then the hot air balloon that had appeared caught his attention... 'DON'T GO WEST, JONNY!' was being screamed through a megaphone

It was the beegee from earlier. It explained the high pitched scream...

go to MAAAAASACHUSETS!

Perhaps Boston? But there was something about Boston that bothered him...

The hot air balloon disappeared as quickly as it arrived. 'Take me to the airport' Jonny growled to the rhyming cabbie

"The airport?" said the Cabbie."Not to shabby."

As the metrocab slipped through the city streets towards the terminal, Jonny reflected on the last few hours...

the coordinates, Clive, the lack of coffee, 6 years missed, time travel? an uprising? the ring from Alabama State college, the beegee.

Jonny wondered what Boston might hold as the taxi pulled into the departures parking bay.

END OF CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO: www.plurk.com/p/4rnx