Ikea dining table
Six of us live in a narrow, pre-Victorian house. We weren’t the only residents. Voices in the walls. Playful ghosts making all iphones tune to defunct radio shows. Disappearing blood on the walls and staircase. Strange visages in mirrors. Lights turning on and off. What we expected when we signed the lease. House proved to be more creative and inventive than we realized.
Lounging around in the front room, too many glasses of wine consumed, we played “dinner party.” Laughing, with our glasses in danger of breaking, we discussed who we would invite to dinner – no limitations. Then pairings; what two people would be the most entertaining or enlightening? I grabbed my ever-present notebook and pen, scribbling down the ideas. Our discussion would make a lively blog post.
Sitting down to Sunday supper, the door bell rings. Jake gets the door, and comes back looking strange. “Louise,” he whispered, “remember you thought Karl and Groucho Marx would be good dinner companions. Well, we need two more plates and bowls, they’re waiting in the front room.” I thought I’d heard the intro to the Communist Manifesto being recited by someone with a German accent and the faint strains of “Hello, I must be going . . .I’m glad I came, but just the same, I must be going”
Karl had the iconic hair and a wicked sense of humour. Groucho the moustache, glasses and waving cigar. Sitting across the table, the two men instantly became entertaining.
G: Humour is reason gone mad. K: Reason has always existed, but not always in a reasonable form.
K: The last capitalist we hang shall be the one who sold us the rope G: If you’re not having fun, you’re doing something wrong.
Time for our guests to go. Groucho remarked, “I’ve had a perfectly wonderful evening, but this wasn’t it.” Karl bowed. We watched them disappear into the darkness.
We now knew House had the special talent of anabiosis as well as raising and re-animating the long dead. We suspected other abilities such as rematerializing, in our dinning room, any citizen of the cosmos. Or, placing on our door step any mythical creature or person. A very altruistic approach on House’s part.
We sat quietly in the front room, avoiding the dishes. I had picked up our agenda. With a twinge of anticipation I asked, “Who should we have over on March 1st?”
written for tale weaver #2: Guess Who’s Coming to Dinner (Mindlovemisery’s menagerie)